Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The gymnasium door slams open. Bonnie Rockwaller leads the group of four out into the hall, her brow a low line over her eyes. Behind her, Tara says something that makes her teeth grind.

“That was amazing, Kim! Wonderful!”

Bonnie doesn’t bother to look, but she knows Kim is being fawned over. She won't admit it but even she’s impressed. That routine was supposed to be impossible. Instead, it had been executed flawlessly.

Perfectly.

“How did you get that triple flip in the beginning? You were standing still.” Hope says.

When Kim smiles it makes the corners of her eyes crinkle. The thrill of making the team makes her cheeks flush. “It’s all in the legs. No big, really.” She’s a little prideful and a little shy.

“It’ll only get harder from here, K.” Says Bonnie, glancing coolly over her shoulder. A look she’d taken right out of Lonnie’s playbook. “So stay on your toes. If you can’t keep delivering, you can’t stay.”

“Obviously, B.” Kim grins right back at her. “I just hope you can keep up.”

If Bonnie rolled her eyes any harder, she could bowl with them. She was tired of looking at Kim’s stupid face. When Kim gets stopped by another girl, Bonnie keeps walking.

“Whatever, tin-teeth.” Is the last thing Kim hears before Bonnie turns the corner.

Finally, some peace and quiet-

“Did you make it?” Ange’s hand lands in Kim's. Their eyes meet, the only people like each other. Every detail noticed, every variable accounted for. Only, while Ange ponders, Kim acts.

Kim beams.

“I knew it!” Ange hugs Kim off her feet and twirls her until Kim starts laughing. “My sister, the cheerleader!”

“Oh, it was nothing.” Kim rubs her cheek against Ange’s until Ange lets her go. It takes a few more moments. Kim doesn’t mind. “Let's save the celebration for when I’m the head cheerleader.”

“That won't be long.” Ange says. If it were anyone else, Kim might have tried to be humble.

“Mom’s ready to take us home.” Ange gestures with her head towards the hall that leads to the parking lot. “Tell her to wait for a minute for me? I gotta take care of something.”

“Well, sure, but what is it?” Kim calls out to her. Ange has already disappeared around the corner. Most of the time, Kim was on the same wavelength as Ange. Sometimes they would surprise each other. Oh well, at least Kim could tell her mom the good news while they waited.

“Bonnie!”

Bonnie hears sneakers squeak on the linoleum floor approaching her. She turns and… It figures that the other Possible would come to annoy her too. Bonnie lets her eyelids fall halfway closed, unimpressed.

“This had better be good.” Bonnie doesn’t even bother to stop walking. “I’m kind of busy right now.”

“Oh, I’ll be quick then.” Ange catches up to her in easy strides. There’s a tilt of a smile on Ange’s face. To Bonnie's annoyance, Ange is a few inches taller than her. Simply unacceptable.

“Then spit it out-”

“You should be nicer to Kim.” That gets Bonnie to stop walking.

Ange takes one more step than necessary, letting herself into Bonnie’s personal space. Bonnie has to crane her neck up to meet Ange’s gaze, which is absolutely unacceptable.

She gives Ange a grin that’s all teeth. “Listen, bossy.” Bonnie takes a half step, bringing herself even closer to this nuisance. “I don’t have to be anything.” This close to her and Bonnie can see the subtle way Ange narrows her eyes - can feel her breath on her face. “And I’ll treat Kim however I want to.” Bonnie kept her nails long, and she made sure to press one against the underside of Ange’s jaw. Hard enough that it will leave a crescent.

“What are you going to do about it?” Says Bonnie, voice low and smirking.

Ange doesn’t stop smiling at her.

“...That’s what I thought.” Whatever, this wasn’t worth it.

---

“Angie,” The top of James Possible’s head peaks into view from the stairs leading to Ange’s and Kim’s attic room. “Your friend is here to see you.”

From the top bunk is a shuffle of noise. As Ange leans out over her bed, she catches a quirked eyebrow from Kim. Friends came in abundance to Ange, but none of them had been invited to her house before. Certainly, none have invited themselves over.

Ange gives Kim a grin.

“Be right there, papa.” Three years of track and field means flipping off the bed is no big. The landing is not as graceful as Kim would have made it. Ange decides to worry about that if she ever takes up the hero-ing business.

She follows her dad down the two sets of steps that lead to the front door.

Ange sees exactly who she expected to. Bonnie Rockwaller is tapping an impatient foot on her foyer. Her arms are crossed tightly over her chest. White sneakers, fitted white jeans, a turquoise blouse, big dark sunglasses, and a scarf wrapped fashionably around her head.

Ange makes sure to take notes. Her own style leans into sports casual. Normally that was fine, but… Bonnie looks Classy.

“Thank you, Mr. Possible.” Bonnie gives James a big smile. “Sorry again for dropping by unannounced.”

James returns it, dropping a big hand on Ange’s shoulder. “Oh, it’s alright. We’re used to people coming and going around here.” He gives it a squeeze, gives Ange a raise of an eyebrow. “Angie here’s never had someone over before, so it’s nice to meet one of her friends.”

Bonnie lowers her sunglasses to pierce Ange with her eyes. It’s a look that tells Ange Bonnie isn’t exactly surprised by this.

“Pops.” Ange says with a sigh. A parents duty to embarrass their child was a tradition James and Ann (and on occasion, Dolores) enjoyed to indulge. “Mind giving us a minute?”

“I’ll be in the lab if you need me.” James leaves, but not before ruffling Ange’s hair into an awkward mess. Any chance of looking remotely cool withers away.

“Angie,” Bonnie waits for the door to the basement (the lab?) to shut before addressing her. Her voice is saccharine. “My friend,” And sarcastic. “Could you please stop being an actual freak for a second and reverse this!”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.” Ange’s voice is dry. And sarcastic.

“You-” Bonnie actually stomps a foot at that. It’s adorable. Ange is certain if she said that out loud, Bonnie would have to figure out how to hide a body. “You know what you did, you weirdo!”

Ange just smiles at her. Bonnie actually growls, before reaching up and fishing a lock of hair out of her scarf.

“Wow.” Ange gives her an appraising look. “That color actually looks really nice on you.”

“Of course it does.” Says Bonnie with maybe a fraction less hostility. “Everything looks good on me.” She twirls a lock of neon yellow hair between her fingers before jabbing one at Ange. “But that doesn’t mean I want it. So reverse what you did, okay?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.”

“Oh my god!” Bonnie throws up her hands. “What do you want from me, Possible?” They freeze on the way down as it dawns on her. She throws an offended, horrified look at Ange. “...You’re going too far.” Bonnie’s voice drops low.

Ange smiles at her. “I haven’t the faintest-”

“Okay, I get it!” Bonnie cuts her off. “I…” She inhales, knowing what she’s about to say will take a maximum amount of effort. “I promise I won't be mean to Kim! There, I’m doing what you asked. Happy?”

“I said you should be nice to her.” Ange corrects her. Bonnie bristles. “But..” Ange runs a quick calculation in her head and decides it’s better to have mercy before Bonnie actually gets physical with her. “I’ll take what I can get.”

She hands Bonnie a vial from the pocket in her sweat pants. “Mix this into your shampoo and it’ll wash right out.”

Bonnie clutches it into her fist like it owes her money.

“Whatever, freakazoid.” Bonnie leaves the scene with a haughty huff and the slam of the front door.

“Ange,” Ange turns towards the steps. Kim’s head peaks out at her from the top of the steps. Green eyes look at Ange wetly. “Did you dye Bonnie’s hair neon yellow for me?”

“Please, Kim.” Ange grins at her with lidded eyes. “That would be wrong.”

Kim tackles her so hard, Ange’s feet leave the floor.

Chapter Text

"Alright class," Mr. Barkin's gravel voice quiets the noisy teens. "Mrs. Tomic is out sick for the rest of the week. I'll be in charge for the duration."

He sets both massive hands on the teacher's desk and glares out at the students until they shrink. "I won't be seeing any slacking or goofing off. Chemistry, unlike other subjects, can get dangerous." Satisfied that he had their attention, he picks up a clipboard. Presumably the class schedule.

Fifteen, awkward and gangly, Ange sits at the back of the class. Mrs. Tomic had sent her there hoping she could keep the troublemakers in line.

Ange couldn't, but she didn't mind.

From back here, she can watch the entire classroom. Ange observes her brethren nerds sitting in the first row, listening to Barkin start the lecture. The following rows are students who either care or don't. They certainly don't have the same passion as Ange does on the subject.

Movement at the corner of her eye makes Ange duck. A spitwad flies over her head and slaps into the wall beside her. Gross.

Ange looks at the offender. A boy bigger than most, wearing the Maddogs purple jersey grins at her. What was his name?

"Brick," A feminine voice, mocking and delighted, chimes in beside him. "You missed. Try again."

Right, Brick Flagg. Probably the future quarterback, once the senior one graduates out. Ange glances to his right. Normally, Brick is a nicer guy than this. But who could resist being egged on by a pretty girl.

Dwarfed by him and sitting like a queen is Bonnie. She's wearing the cheerleaders uniform proudly. The purple and yellow somehow enhance her skin tone. She's grinning at Ange. Glaring, really, but with a wide, perfect-teeth smile.

A pretty girl she certainly is.

Ange sees Brick inhale and sacrifices her notebook to block two more spitwads. Mega gross.

"FLAGG!" Barkin's roar makes everyone jump. "Don't think I can't see you in the back. Go see the principal." He shoves a finger towards the door.

Brick visibly droops. "Oh man." Under Barkin's gaze, he pathetically flops his things into his backpack and leaves the classroom.

Bonnie isn't smiling anymore as she glares at Ange. What Mr. Barkin says next gets Bonnie's - and everyone's attention.

"Mrs. Tomic has scheduled a group project."

Some people groan, others look at their best friends. Ange belongs to the former. Bonnie looks at Tara.

"And to ensure good grades, she's assigned partners." The entire classroom groans now. "I better not hear any whining. Mr. Atali your partner will be..."

Ange sighs and leans back into her seat. School time had a lot of pros in her book. Group projects were on the few cons list. There were always scheduling conflicts and a severe lack of passion from her peers. How was she supposed to work with someone who didn't even want to learn?

"Ms. Possible, you'll be working with Ms. Rockwaller this week."

Two sets of eyes snap to the front. "What?" Bonnie says incredulously. She stands up fast enough that her chair creaks on the ground. "You want me to work with-" Bonnie pauses to look at Ange. "That?"

A few of the students start snickering. Even though they were only sophomores, Bonnie had enough clout to influence who was it and who wasn't... It.

Ever since Ange had dyed Bonnie's hair as freshmen, Bonnie had never let her be it. She got the feeling Bonnie wouldn't have let her be it in the first place. Her last name was Possible.

"Yes, Ms. Rockwaller." Barkin fixes her with a stare until she sits back down. "You will be working with her.” He emphasizes the last word. “Unless you want to visit the principal too?"

Bonnie's chin falls onto a propped hand. "Fine." She surrenders. Ange sighs.

This is going to be a long week.

---

As students filter out of the classroom, Bonnie corners her.

"Possible." Bonnie's shorter than Ange by only an inch now. She must be going through a growth spurt.

"Listen up. I don't like repeating myself." Bonnie says as she takes a seat on top of Ange's desk. "I have cheer practice Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. We will meet on Tuesday and Thursday after school at the library and get this stupid project finished as fast as-" Bonnie blinks when she realizes what she's about to say. "Possible."

Ange lets her lip quirk once.

"I don't care how long we have to stay there, but we are going to be spending the least amount of time together, alright?" Bonnie has one leg crossed over the other. She starts examining her nails and doesn't look at Ange. "And if any problems arise, you can text me. I won't take your call. Got it?"

"I heard you." Ange says. Bonnie isn't looking at her, but she's looking at Bonnie. The way Bonnie holds herself fills up a room. If she could do that too, it might be useful one day.

"Good." Bonnie uncrosses her legs and steps onto the floor. "Then let's not talk until tomorrow."

"How can I text you?"

"What?" Bonnie finally looks at her, and she looks at her like she's stupid. Ange smiles, and it's full of mischief.

"I don't have a number to contact you."

A manicured hand holds out an open palm. "Phone."

Ange wonders if it's worth it to insist on manners. Probably not. She places a beat up flip phone into Bonnie's soft hand and watches as Bonnie starts to type her number in.

"I have club meetings on Tuesdays and Thursdays." Ange watches Bonnie's fingers pause. "Matheletes. It ends at four thirty." Bonnie actually cringes. Ange's smile turns into a grin.

"And the other days are reserved for my track and field meetings."

"Did you really have to choose the nerdiest sport too?" Bonnie shoves Ange's phone into her chest. Ange catches it before it can hit the floor.

"I'm compelled to be as nerdy as-" Ange's eyes crinkle with amusement. "Possible." Bonnie gags.

"So, let's meet up at my place instead. Tuesday and Thursday." Ange concedes. "Around six, maybe?"

"No way am I going to your place. We'll meet at mine." Bonnie flicks her eyes up and down Ange. A look that appraises everything wrong with Ange's appearance - from her wavey hair pulled into a messy bun, her shirt with a hole... singed? Into it, all the way down to her scuffed sneakers. "At five."

Bonnie turns towards the exit. "And wear something that's acceptable for public viewing or I won't let you in." She says right before she leaves the room.

Chapter Text

Ange is filtering her papers into her backpack fifteen minutes early. "Bye Donavan." She glances briefly at her friend as she zips up. "I wish I could stay longer, but.."

"Say no more, Angelus." Donavan pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He's a short boy, with messy blonde hair and a pocket protector in his breast pocket. Awkward, but practical. Ange couldn't fault him for it. "I understand the predicament you're in."

As the only two members of the matheletes club, cutting a meet short wasn't a big deal. It still made Ange's heart pang. She was just getting good at the speed rounds!

Scary girls had to take priority right now.

"I'll see you later." Ange hikes her pack over her shoulder and smiles warmly at Donavan. He gives her a grave nod.

"I'll await your return if you can survive Ms. Rockwaller."

"Ha!" Ange barks a laugh. "Bonnie isn't that bad.... well she is, but it feels mean saying it." Donavan exhales through his nose.

The parking lot is completely empty, save for the bike she took to school especially for this trip. Bonnie's house was in the opposite direction of her own. She didn't feel like walking the entire three and a half miles back.

Ange swings a leg over the seat and starts peddling.

Living at home, there wasn't much privacy. Of course, kim left every other day to finish some mission so Ange often had hours alone. She was just never certain when kim would return - or what state she'd be in. So, not a lot of privacy, and usually it was spent worrying about her favorite, hyper-competent as she was, sibling.

Maybe she should take up some sort of stealth training and join her once and a while. Ron was a very good boy. Ange didn't have confidence in him.

Peddling away from school and home, she finally has time that just belongs to her. It's nice. Ange feels the cold wind pull at her hair. She watches the clouds float around the sky. She reflects on the day she had.

A quick breakfast with the family. School, which was always enjoyable, had been extra nice since no one had paid attention to her. Sometimes, some of the girls in the halls would look at her and whisper to each other. Then they'd laugh. She wasn't sure why (she suspected Bonnie had something to do with it) they did that. It always left her with an awful heat in her gut. She ignored it.

At least no one shoved her in lockers. They did to Donavan. The janitor had started to get annoyed by how many times Donavan ended up in a locker, so Ange had learned to crack a lock this year. It spared them both the growled lecture.

Like it was their fault.

Speaking of Bonnie. The smile on Ange's face faded as she pulled up to the address. Bonnie, Bonnie. The source of half her problems. And now she'd have to spend an evening with her.

Bonnie really could decide who was it and who wasn't. It had been different in middle school, but then...

As a freshman, she'd sat at lunch with the chess club. The outcasts had welcomed her when the popular kids hadn't. Then, too many of the boys there had started looking at her, and the girls had started glaring. This year, Ange started eating in the library over a book instead.

If she asked, Kim would let her sit with her friends. Sometimes she did that, but it always highlighted how small her social circle was in comparison.

It's not like Ange really disliked Bonnie. She was funny, quick witted, and adorable when Ange could get under her skin. If she didn't spend her time making Ange's life miserable, Ange liked to think they could even be friends.

Unfortunately, Bonnie had decided that wouldn't be possible.

Ange chewed on the inside of her lip as she dismounted her bike. She wheeled it behind a hedge and then made her way to the front door.

A deep breath. A carefully neutral smile. A knock on the door.

---

The door opens.

A taller woman stares down at her. Her hair is blonde and coifed perfectly. Her eyes are the same shade of turquoise as Bonnie's. They even share the same look of contempt.

"Who are you?" Says the woman.

"I'm here to see Bonnie." Ange replies. "My name is An-"

"Whatever." The woman actually puts a hand in front of Ange's face to get her to stop talking. She leans back into the house and calls down the hallway.

"Bonnie, one of your-" the woman looks at Ange again, up and down. Ange realizes it's the same look Bonnie gave her yesterday at Chemistry. "Loser friends is here."

Damn.

Ange was wearing a red bolero jacket with a graphic tee underneath. Her pants were ripped and black, and her red sneakers were chunky. She'd tried today!

She hears feet pad down the hall. Bonnie comes into view by pushing away the woman. "Oh my God, she's not my friend."

"Huh. I thought you were losing your taste. It's the only good thing about you."

Ange catches a flash of something on Bonnie's face before Bonnie rolls her eyes. "Get lost, Lonnie. I'll take care of this."

Lonnie throws her hands up in the air and starts to walk away.

Her glare goes from Lonnie to Ange. Ange's outfit must be acceptable to her, since she steps back to let Ange into the house. "You couldn't have texted?"

"Sorry, I didn't know that was standard." Ange ignores the glare and accepts the silent invitation. "I wouldn't have met your mom if I'd texted, anyway." She adds, maintaining eye contact with Bonnie.

The sound of someone tripping and swearing floats over her shoulder.

Bonnie blinks at her.

"She's not my mom." Bonnie starts to lead Ange towards her room. "She's my sister. My way older sister."

Bonnie actually grins when Lonnie calls after them. "You're just jealous because I'm-" The door slams shut, muffling whatever came next. Bonnie leans on it and sighs, then stares at Ange. It's calculating.

Ange looks around. Bonnie's room is very neat and very pink. A bed that's been made perfectly, a desk with papers stacked aside. There's even a large bookcase that's filled completely. In the shelves are books that look worn from use.

The room smells pleasantly like Bonnie's perfume.

Ange makes herself at home by pulling up a chair at Bonnie's desk. She sits on it backwards for cool points. "For this project, I'm thinking we can experiment with-"

"Stop talking, Possible."

Ange stops talking.

Bonnie folds herself primly on her bed. She pulls her backpack onto her lap so she can pull out her chemistry notes and textbook. "I want to do something good this project. Not something stupid like a baking soda volcano."

Bonnie sneers. "Think you can manage that?"

"So you care about your grade?" Ange rests her chin on her forearms and watches Bonnie's attention snap to her.

"Of course I do!" Bonnie says. Her eyes rage. "I'm planning to get into a good college, Possible. I'm not stupid."

"I didn't think you were." Ange murmurs. It's not an apology, just a statement. She pulls out her own notebook (wiped and sanitized of all spitwads) and flips to the last page she'd written on. Notes are packed into each line with a messy scrawl. "Some people don't care about class, is all."

"Well I do." Bonnie supposes that if she's going to be stuck working with a loser, at least it's a loser that's willing to put in effort.

"Good. If we want a project that will impress Mrs. Tomic- er.. Barkin, I was thinking we could discover a new polymer. Bonus points if its actually useful." Ange points at a few molecular formulas. "I have a few that haven't been made that, in theory, could be, uh, made."

Bonnie stares at her like she's stupid. Ange is starting to get tired of being looked at that way.

"... well what's your idea?" Ange says helplessly. Her question blooms a complicated expression on Bonnie's face.

"Listen." Bonnie sets her things to the side. "I want a good project, and a good grade." There's a moment where Bonnie looks almost.. vulnerable? Then she schools herself and gives Ange a piercing stare.

It fascinates her.

"But I don't.. get it." Bonnie looks prepared to be challenged. "Who does, besides losers. It's chemistry."

Ah. "I don't think anyone understands chemistry, even experts." There's understanding in Ange's eyes. Bonnie looks away first. "If you get specific enough it blurs into physics, and no one understands that either. But physics can also become chemistry, which means the line is too blurry to quantify. We can use generalizations though, and that usually gets us far enough to make something interesting. Though I think it's better when those generalizations lead to something-"

"Ange, be quiet."

Ange stops talking.

"Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?"

There's an uncomfortable, lonely heat in Ange's chest. She pushes it to the side and changes the subject. "I can teach you about it." Ange offers tentatively. "For the project, I mean. Since you want a good grade."

She wasn't quick enough, Ange realizes. She can see Bonnie looking at her, mildly regretful. She's more observant than Ange had assumed.

"Okay, sure." The agreement is as close to an apology Bonnie is willing to give. "And, like, I want to chose the poly-whatever it is that we're going to make. I don't want you taking all the credit."

Ange smiles. The tension in the room lifts a little. "Then let's get started."

Chapter Text

On Wednesday Ange holds open the front door to school. She gives Ron a fist bump, Monique a smile, and Kim a kiss on her cheek as the trio make their way inside. Kim grins at her.

"See you after practice." Kim says over her shoulder. Ange hums her affirmation. Kim heads to the right, down the hall towards her locker. Ange hooks a left and makes her way to her own.

She pulls her English literature textbook out from behind her vials of xenon. She's saving those for the ion thruster she's assembling in the supply closet of the woodworking classroom. 

Mr. Palm had given her the only key after she'd gifted him a carbon laser to sharpen his equipment.

When she closes the door, Donovan's serious face is revealed. 

"Hey Donavan." He never lets anyone call him Don, and he always calls her-

"Angelus." Donavan greets her. "Pleasant morning. Did you read the paper Professor Haley and Dr. Estrella released last night?"

"You mean on converting anti-matter to matter and vice versa?" Donavan nods. Ange starts to walk to class. English is the only class she shares with Donavan (which is really a shame because they were a powerhouse in their science class freshmen year), so they'd started the tradition of escorting whoever came to school last from their locker. "It was brilliant, but they never addressed how they'd deal with the reality warping that comes with it."

Donavan adjusts the strap to his too large backpack. He likes to keep a full set of mathematical tools on him at all times. He had everything from a set square to a protractor in there. And a backup set just in case he lost anything. "It's all theory anyway." But he sighs, disappointed. He wanted theory implemented into reality as much as she did. 

"Still, it's a step closer." Donavan adds, eyes gleaming in delight behind his thick glasses. "Soon we will be able to alchemize our own elements. Hopefully."

"I don't know..." Ange holds the door to class for Donavan too. Donavan steps inside. "I'm still waiting for Professor Clavice and MIT to make a rebuttal-"

A foot tangles into Donavan's stride. His momentum is interrupted. The momentum of his backpack isn't. 

The yelp dies in his throat when Ange grabs the handle on Donavan's pack. 

"Max!" Ange simultaneously straightens Donavan out and glares at the boy who tripped her friend. 

Max Falcon sits so casually at his desk he practically melts into his chair. As the star running back- responsible for the winning touchdowns in the last three football games - nothing bothers him. 

"Why do you have to be so ferociously uncool?" 

Max lazily withdraws his foot and gives Ange. A. Look. It even manages to make Ange feel foolish, not that she would ever show him weakness. 

Broad shoulders, long legs, blue eyes and blonde hair that falls over said eyes just so, Max Falcon is anything but uncool. If all you care about is looks, Ange mentally corrects herself.

Unfortunately, this is high-school.

"Stop worrying so much." He yawns out. "I didn't do anything. Don's just clumsy."

"Donavan." Donavan mutters and Ange says.

That actually makes Max look briefly amused. "Did you see me do anything?" He calls over the shoulder to the posse surrounding him. A few boys from the football team, a few girls who are staring at Ange the way one might look at the rotting corpse of a mouse - with disgust and not worth their time. 

"We didn't see nothin'." Keon, one of the boys, smirks. "Have your boyfriend watch his step." A few of the girls giggle at Ange.

Donavan flushes behind Ange. "It's alright, Angelus-"

Ange looks at Donavan like he's crazy, then turns to Keon. "Don't say it like it's an insult. Any girl would be lucky to date Donavan." 

"So you two are dating." Max quips.

"Of course not. But I understand if you have trouble with the concept of fostering a relationship with the opposite sex without thinking with your..." Ange glances at him. Even Bonnie would be proud at the disdain Ange manages to put into the motion. "He's my friend, who is a boy. That's all." 

Keon mocks a wince, and bumps Max's shoulder with his fist. "Damn, Ange. That's fuckin harsh."

"Language." Ange mutters, eyes narrowing with disguised confusion. What did she do? 

"Angelus!" The tone in Donavan's voice gets her to look away from Max and at him. He looks like he's trying to stay composed. "Let's stop wasting our breath on these Neanderthals and sit down." 

"Hey!" Keon gets up from his chair fast enough it topples over. "Who're you calling a Neanderthal, bro." On his feet, he towers over Ange and Donavan. 

Donavan swallows. 

"You think I'm stupid?" Keon asks. 

There's a beat too long of silence before Donavan finds his voice. "I-I didn't mean it like that."

Ange's presence between Keon and Donavan is perhaps the only reason Donavan hasn't been hurt already. 

"What did you mean, huh?" 

She casts a helpless look towards Max. This sitch was spiraling out of control. Unfortunately, Max seems too amused to let this stop. He meets her gaze and pointedly leans back in his chair.

"I think he was calling us stupid, man."

That's right, Ange realizes. He's one of the many boys who makes a hobby of shoving Donavan into lockers. 

"Out of the way, Possible."

Keon takes a terrifying step towards Donavan - towards Ange who is standing in front of Donavan. He's not rough when he places a huge hand on Ange's shoulder and forcefully shoves her back towards the doorway.

He's not gentle either. 

If she was Kim, Keon's body would have been used to snap a desk in half. Let's be real. If she was Kim, he would have never had the guts to approach them in the first place.

She's not Kim.

"Hey-" Ange flails, starts to correct herself when she sees someone walk through the doorway.

Instinct takes over. 

She stutter steps to eat up the inertia. It's enough to stop herself from completely bowling over this unwitting victim. It's not enough to stop herself from hitting them - her, they're a girl, Ange notices. 

Ange crashes into her. Quickly, she wraps her hand up above the nape of the girl's slender neck and around the back of her head. She hisses when the back of that hand smashes into the doorframe. That doesn't stop Ange from using the other one to grab the other side of the doorframe and grab down hard. They've stopped.

Blue eyes lock onto turquoise.

Bonnie looks bewildered as she stares up at an equally flummoxed Ange.

She's only an inch shorter than Ange, the analytical part of Ange catalogues in the back of her mind. Her eyes are beautiful, a ridiculous part of her notes.

Those eyes look over Ange's shoulder, breaking whatever trance Ange has found herself in. "Keon!" Bonnie has gathered what has happened in an instant.

It's obvious when Keon has the collar of one of the school's biggest losers clenched in his hand. Keon's other fist freezes in place, inches from Donavan's face. 

The school's most popular cheerleader did not sound happy. 

"What the fuck are you doing!?" Bonnie somehow makes it sound ladylike. Ange steps back quickly, out of the way of Bonnie's rage. "You almost - put him down - killed me!" 

Keon's grip slackens enough for Donavan to scramble away. Ange meets up with him and guides him towards their desks. They're both staring as Bonnie starts to lay into the jock.

"We're practicing for nationals and I'm the top of the pyramid." Keon actually steps back when Bonnie stabs a finger into his chest. Ange knows from experience how sharp Bonnie keeps her nails. "I am not going to sit that out because you decide to throw some nobody at me!" 

Keon winces. Max and the others in his posse look on with wide eyes. 

"Because otherwise, I'll have to give that up to Possible. And if I have to step aside for Kim I will taze your balls so hard you can slap them on a plate and call them Colorado Mountain oysters. Do you understand? Nod if you understand." 

Keon nods.

Bonnie pulls her hand back to examine her nails. Satisfied that none are chipped, she gives Keon a smile that sends a chill down his spine. 

"Great." Her voice is overly sweet. Bonnie sits down besides Max. Surrounded by football players and pretty girls, she stands out like a swan among ducks. "Now you will not believe what I just heard Clara say about Phil." Everyone leans in to hear whatever gossip she's about to dish out.

Donavan falls into his chair. Ange slumps into hers right beside him and they both tune out the chatter. The look they share is of mutual understanding.

Popular people are scary. 

Chapter Text

Chemistry is Ange's last class of the day. Also her second favorite, right behind her AP trigonometry class. 

The room is buzzing with various conversations. Every student has a clique they belong to. Some are big and some are small. Bonnie, who is once again sitting on top of Ange's desk, is surrounded by the biggest. 

A group of six girls are crowded around Bonnie. Ange actually take a moment to marvel at the sight. She'd never thought she'd see her own desk surrounded by so many people.

As she approaches, Ange hears what they're talking about.

"I'm telling you, he's absolutely gorg." One of the girls says. "I think he's going to be the next quarterback as soon as Lucas graduates." Of course they're talking about boys.

"He's so tall, too." Tara, one of the girls Ange actually recognizes, adds. Tara bumps her shoulder against Bonnie's. "You two would look so good together."

"I'd look good with anyone." Bonnie smirks at her. "But... Brick is pretty cute. And tall." She agrees. "Maybe I'll have him ask me out." She pauses to think for a moment. "After he becomes quarterback." 

He was also dumber than dirt about anything that wasn't football. Ange wonders if that's a plus or minus when it comes to dating. 

"Hi girls." 

Seven pairs of eyes look at her. Ange can tell a few of them are surprised she even dared to interrupt. "Mind making some room?" She nods her head to the empty corner on Bonnie's right. "So I can sit?" 

Some of the girls turn to Bonnie for guidance. Tara smiles at her, which Ange returns. Bonnie just sighs and scoots back on the table so Ange has enough room to slide into her seat without touching her legs. 

Her turquoise eyes are calculating as she assesses Ange. Slowly, Bonnie's perfect lips shape into a smirk.

"Hey Ange." Bonnie leans her weight on her right arm, letting her head rest against the propped shoulder. She's lounging the way a big cat might. At least Ange thinks so. "Which of the boys do you like?" 

"Huh?" Ange looks at Bonnie in complete surprise. "Boys?" Ange realizes she's missing something when she catches the other girls gleefully observing her. Still, she takes a moment to consider.

"I haven't really thought about it." She concludes. Bonnie scoffs, a girl snorts. Tara just looks amused.

"C'mon Ange, no need to be embarrassed. There's gotta be someone." Tara says, though it's not unkind. "There's too many cute boys in this school not to like one."

"We heard how you friendzoned that one boy- Don? This morning." Another girl says, unkindly this time. "So if it isn't him, who is it?"

"Donavan is my friend." Ange corrects. She is definitely missing something. The way the girls are looking at her almost feels oppressive. She lets it wash off of her like water on a stone. The only way to get them off of this topic would be to answer their question.

"Well, if I had to pick," Ange taps a finger to her chin in thought. She misses the way Bonnie's eyes narrow. "I suppose Josh is rather handsome. I enjoyed his exhibit at the art festival last year."

"Josh?!" One of the girls laughs. "You have a crush on Josh Mankey?" 

The others start tittering. Bonnie raises an eyebrow. When she speaks, her voice is almost soothing. At least it would be if what she says isn't so harsh. 

"Ange, you have got to be kidding. He'd never date someone so low on the totem pole." 

Instead of looking offended like Bonnie expects her too, Ange looks even more bewildered with big blue eyes opened wide. Bonnie realizes that Ange is actually pretty under the subpar fashion sense and messy hair.

"Date him?" There's genuine confusion in Ange's voice. Either she's a very good actor, or she actually means it.

Unfortunately, this is high school. Gossip is more important than the truth. The girls are already huddling to whisper to each other. All except Bonnie, who is still watching her with that ponderous and calculating look.

She pulls out the other piece of information Ange had divulged. "You went to the art festival last year? That really doesn't seem like your scene."

Tara overhears, and throws a teasing look at Ange. "To see Josh's exhibit, remember?" She says as she rests her head against Bonnie's arm. The act of casual intimacy between the two girls reminds Ange that the only person she can do that with is Kim.

Ange ignores the lonely pit in her stomach to reply.

"Well, yeah." She agrees. "I went to see all the exhibits. Not everyone had a good showing... but I thought his paintings in particular were evocative, so I enjoyed them."

Tara smirks gently. "You really do like him."

"Uh," Ange hesitates as she formulates her response. That's enough for Tara to come to her own conclusions, and she turns back to join the other girls. Gossiping about her, no doubt.

What a wonderful feeling. Ange continues to empty air anyway. "I like his artwork. I don't know if that translates..." She sighs. Never mind. Being ignored just made her chest hurt more.

She's mercifully spared from wallowing in it when Mr. Barkin stomps in.

"Alright class." He hollers. The conversations die. "Let's get straight to it. I want you working on those projects. There had better be progress by the end of class." He sits down at Mrs. Tomic's desk and glares at the classroom. Ange thinks it makes him look like a gargoyle.

Bonnie slips off Ange's desk and into the empty chair beside her in one smooth motion. 

With the tabletop free, Ange opens a drawer underneath the desk and starts pulling out beakers of different shapes. Bonnie is content to let her set them up. She's more focused on Ange.

"What didn't you like?" Bonnie says as Ange hangs a beaker over an unlit bunsen burner. Ange's hands hesitate. She makes sure everything is secure before turning her attention towards Bonnie, thinking.

"You mean about the festival?" 

Bonnie nods. Ange wonders if Bonnie is checking to see if she has taste.

"Well, don't tell him... I've always thought Murphy's interactive art piece was uninspired." Ange says as she reaches into her desk again. She pulls out two safety goggles and hands one to Bonnie. "I admire the effort, but he could have done something more than hang a few lights up and blow bubbles all day." 

She snaps hers into place. "But on the other hand, it was certainly pretty. If that's all you want in a piece then I guess he accomplished it." Ange watches Bonnie until she puts her safety glasses on before she starts filling the beakers with chemicals.

"I thought it was dumb too." Bonnie can't believe she's agreeing with Ange, but she says it anyway. "Who wants to stare at a guy in an empty room blowing bubbles? He's not even hot." 

Ange feels her lips twitch upward. 

"Bonnie," Ange glances at her, side long. "Not everyone is lucky enough to be blessed with a beautiful face." Ange reminds her.

Bonnie latches onto that with a devilish smile. “But you think I'm lucky?” She reads between the lines. Bonnie expects Ange to shrink with embarrassment. 

Behind scratched goggles, Ange meets her gaze. “Yes.” She confirms. “you're very beautiful.” Bonnie marvels at how Ange could say something so embarrassing so casually. Ange isn't even paying attention anymore. Instead, she's rummaging through her desk for something else when she adds, “And you were beautiful at the exhibit too.” 

“What?” Bonnie hates herself a little for the way her voice wavers. 

“Your rendition of Giselle.” It was the dance Bonnie had performed during the opening night of the festival. Ange finds what she's looking for with a gleeful “ah-hah.” Before she continues her thought. “It was beautifully done.” She slides something along the desk surface until it stops in front of Bonnie. “I'm kind of a fan.” 

A red lighter rests in front of Bonnie. Ange nods at the bunsen burner. “Wanna light it?” 

Bonnie's face warms. 

Chapter Text

“This was an awful idea.” Bonnie snarls. In front of her, smoke fizzles out of a beaker. The flame of the bunsen burner licks the bottom of the glass. This as their sixth unsuccessful attempt and it was starting to look like a good object to throw at her desk mate. “You said making a polymer was simple!”

“I said making some polymers was simple.” Ange defends herself. “We’re creating something entirely new. It's not going to go perfectly the first time.”

“I’d like it if we didn't fail every time. Class is almost over and we haven't made any progress.” Bonnie looks more and more irate, before finally sliding her chair backwards. The more space between her, their failure of an experiment, and Ange, the less likely it would end up in Ange's face. 

“My time is too valuable to waste on this. Speed it up.” Bonnie orders Ange. “Aren't you supposed to be smart?” 

“I'm crazy smart.” Ange huffs. “And we aren't failing.” Ange continues. Bonnie deadpans at her, which just makes Ange puff out her chest. “We are gathering data points!” 

Bonnie throws her face into her open hands, gives the universe a withering sigh. “You are such a nerd, Possible.” 

“Yeah.” Ange lets out a dopey laugh, only because she knows it will make Bonnie cringe beside her. “I’ll tell you what. You write down what just happened and what variable we should change next, and I'll clean up.” 

“Are you telling me what to do, Ange?” Bonnie asks her sweetly. She grins when Ange shifts in discomfort.

“You can clean this up if you want to.” Ange finally offers.

“Augh, give me the notebook.”

Bonnie starts writing. Her letters are neat, beautiful, and actually legible compared to Ange’s chicken scratch. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Ange start the process of breaking down their station. 

When Ange hides a flinch, she puts down her pen. “Stop that.” Bonnie ignores the confused look Ange gives her and slides the notebook back towards Ange. “You write. I'll break it down.”

“...Really?”

Bonnie gives Ange an offended look. “I do know how to work my fair share, Possible.” Her expression softens to something less dangerous. “And you're hurt.” 

Ange's face carefully smooths of all emotion. “What are you talking about-” 

“This morning.” She cuts Ange off. “You saved my skull from introducing itself to a doorway.” 

“It was no big.” Ange says.

Bonnie reaches across the desk to stop Ange from hiding her left hand in her pocket. She pushes Ange's sleeve past her wrist and pulls Ange's hand in front of her face for a better look. There is a pattern of calluses along Ange’s palm that feels rough against Bonnie’s manicured fingertips. She clicks her tongue in disapproval. Didn’t this girl know about moisturizer? 

Bonnie flips her hand over to look at the back. An ugly line of discoloration blends into Ange’s brown skin.

“No big?” Bonnie quips dryly. 

“Nothings broken.” Ange offers. Bonnie's hand looks delicate, but her grip is surprisingly firm. Ange is bigger and stronger than her though. She gingerly extracts herself from the cheerleader’s hold. Her skin feels warm where Bonnie had been touching. Ange absentmindedly rubs at it. “I've already iced it. There's not much else I can do.” 

“You could not use it.” Bonnie points out. Then, before Ange can protest, she starts to put the beakers away. “So start writing, Einstein. This is important data.” 

Ange watches her move for a few moments longer before she picks up a pen and starts scribbling onto the page. 

“And make sure I can read it!” Bonnie snaps. Ange’s lettering becomes a bit more deliberate. 

—

Sweat drips into Ange's eyes. She ignores the stinging pain and keeps pumping her legs. She can feel herself displacing the air in front of her, and every impact her feet have on the ground. Faster, faster, she needs to run faster. 

She blows past the finish line. It takes several loping strides for her to slow down. She turns one hundred and eighty degrees and jogs back to the line.

“How’d I do, coach?” 

Coach was a tall, gruff man of little words. No one Ange had spoken to knew his name. The entire track and field team had been calling him coach long before Ange had entered highschool. He would probably be called coach until he retired. 

He glances at the stopwatch in his hand, then shows it to Ange with an approving nod. She grins in delight.

“I shaved off a second!” She jumps high into the air, whooping. 

From the other side of the field, a few of her teammates watch as they jog around the track. Philip can't help but let out an envious sigh. “What do you think they feed Possibles?” He says with steady breaths. “That makes them so athletic.” 

Elen, a girl with bangs and brown eyes runs up beside him. “I think it's a genetic experiment. Her mom is a doctor, right? Totally unfair.”

Phil laughs. “You know, I think that's Possible.”

Everyone in the group groans. Up front, the captain - Ian - speaks. “That's enough. If I have to hear another pun, I'm turning this car around.” 

“Whatever, Dad.” Elen rolls her eyes. 

They narrow as she watches Ange start running along the track. Sooner than she likes to admit, Ange is on the group's heels. A few more strides and Ange has slipped thoroughly into the group. 

“Hey guys.” Ange greets with a wide smile. She's only slightly winded. Definitely a genetic experiment, Elen concludes. “How many more laps are we doing?” 

“Just one.” Ian replies from the front. “Phil, you can do sprints with Coach now.” Philip groans, but doesn't protest. It wouldn't do any good anyway. As they loop around the track, Philip breaks off to join the coach. 

Ange adjusts her running to take his place. Side by side, Elen watches her with a smirk that takes a few moments for Ange to notice. 

“Hey Ange.” Elen says between puffs of air. She has a chance to embarrass Ange and she's not about to let it go to waste. “I heard you have a crush on Mankey.” 

Ange stumbles, but doesn't fall. “What- oh.” Gossip really travels at the speed of light. “I just like his art. That’s all.” 

Even Ian spares a second to look back at Ange, appraising. 

“...There’s nothing I can say that will convince you I don't have a crush on him, is there?” Ange concludes dryly.

Elen shakes her head as innocently as she can. “He is pretty cute.” She adds. “But like, good luck. You're gonna have to beat half the girls off of him with a stick. If he even chooses you, that is.”

“I just remembered,” Ange starts to speed up her pace. “I promised Kim I’d meet her after practice.” She starts to pass Ian in the front, and grimaces at the shit eating grin he gives her.

“You can't run from this, Angie.” He teases. 

Ange makes a point by running even faster. “Not a crush!” She calls back to the team. The team just stares knowingly into her back as she breaks from the track to sprint towards the gym.

“Maybe they're robots.” Olive, one of the other girls on the team muses. The entire team knows she’s weighing her options before- “...The possibilities are endless.” 

“That’s it.” Ian says. He makes a circular motion with his arm. “Double back everybody. We’re running another mile in the opposite direction.”

Chapter Text

Ange swings the gymnasium doors open. Inside, eight of the prettiest girls in school practice their choreography. Yellow pom-poms sway in the air, eight long legs kick high towards the ceiling, someone does a back flip. Then they move as one beautiful mass of handsprings and twirls to end up in a three tiered pyramid. 

She doesn't notice Ron walk up to her. Ange starts when he places a palm on her shoulder.

“They hypnotize me too.” Ron pretends to wipe a grateful tear from his eye. “But if you stare too long they’ll start yelling at you.”

“I think that's just you, Ron.” Ange does take his advice though, and turns to regard the boy. “Since you're a guy and all.” She points her thumb at herself smugly. “I'm a girl, and Kim is my sister. I get special privileges.” 

Ron double takes, then narrows his eyes with envy. “Lucky! Can’t you share some with me?”

Ange laughs. She pulls Ron’s hand off her shoulder and starts walking towards the bleachers for a seat. “I'm not going to help you stare at cheerleaders.” Ron sits next to her, pouting. “Even if it is a teenage boy's biggest dream.” 

“That's not a teenage boy's biggest dream.” Ron puts a hand on his chest and recites. “His biggest dream is to kiss-”

“Okay, TMI.” Ange pushes him from the shoulder. She has to bite her lip to keep in the snicker when he falls over with a crash. 

“Like, thank you, Ange.” Bonnie says. Unnoticed by Ange, the pyramid had been disassembled. The girls were talking amongst themselves now, though several of them were watching Ange and Ron with amusement. “Kim gets a stick up her ass whenever someone tries to correct him.”

“Language.” Kim and Ange say in unison. 

They don't even notice it, Bonnie realizes with bemusement, because Kim immediately continues. “Ron doesn't need correcting.” She defends. She pauses. She lets out a defeated sigh. “Most of the time.” 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, KP.” Ron says as he clambers off the floor. “I am mostly a well behaved young man.” 

Bonnie rolls her eyes. She must have decided this stupidity wasn't worth her time, since she wanders back towards the other girls. “Okay ladies, I think practice is officially over. Let's shower and change.”

Kim is the only one who hangs back, sitting on Ange's other side. “Club Banana?” Kim asks, resting an arm around Ange. She immediately recoils when she realizes how sweaty Ange is.

Ange smirks at her. Ron's eyes widen, pleading. “I wanna go to Bueno Nacho. I haven't eaten since lunch.” 

“Ron, you just had a protein bar.” Kim says, eyeing Ange. Ange inches a little closer to Kim.

“That doesn't count, KP! That's like, not even a snack.” He doesn't notice Kim scooching away, or Ange shuffling after her. “And I shared half with Rufus.” Hearing his name, Rufus pops his pink head out from Ron's pocket and nods.

“Mhm, mhm. Yum.” 

“So I'm starving here. Can we please go-”

Kim bolts off the bleachers with an explosive kick of her legs, just in time to dodge Ange's wet, sweaty hug. Ange hops to her feet with a laugh of delight and starts a dead sprint straight towards Kim. 

“Club Banana just launched their fall collection-” Kim springs up and clear over Ange's head, landing behind her with fluid grace. Ange reacts just as quickly, digging her foot against the wood floor to reverse her momentum. “And the mall has a food co- EEP!” Kim barely dodges Ange's tackle. She puts distance between herself and Ange.

Ange recovers with a roll that leaves a sweaty smear on the floor. If only she wasn't so gross right now, Kim could put her in a hold. 

“I'm kind of in the mood for some Chinese.” Ange throws her vote in. The mall had a Quickly Panda that served greasy orange chicken and too much rice. Her absolute favorite. 

Ron sighs. No Bueno Nacho today.

Ange makes another move for Kim, closing the distance as quickly as she can. It's not fast enough to beat Kim’s reflexes. 

Kim flips into a series of backsprings to keep Ange off of her tail. On the third landing, she pivots her body to the side and cartwheels out of Ange’s way. Ange, still headed in a straight line, realizes Kim has guided her into a wall.

Ange kicks off her back foot, slams her front one against the wall and jumps backwards. She eats up some of her inertia with a flip, then lands with only a small stumble. Ange scans the gymnasium for Kim and finds her at the top of the bleachers, smirking down at her. They both know Ange won't be able to close the distance this time. Game over.

“Club Banana it is.” Kim says as she starts down the bleachers in graceful, casual steps. “With a side of Chinese.” 

“You guys are so weird.” 

Kim and Ange both stop in surprise. Leaning against the doorframe, still in her cheerleader uniform, is Bonnie. She hadn't yet gone to shower. Despite the haughty disdain in her voice, there's hidden admiration. “Teach me how to do that.” 

Ange feels a thrill run down her spine. She didn't think she'd be able to impress Bonnie.

She straightens out of her crouch. Ange feels her wet shirt stick to her skin and shivers. Yeah, she was really gross. 

“Can I use the showers?”

---- 

The locker room was humid. Six of the cheerleaders were toweling themselves dry in front of their respective lockers. They spare the trio a glance when they walk in. Immediately, Jessica zeroes in on the last and tallest girl.

“Hey Ange.” Ange looks at her. “I heard you have a thing for Josh Mankey.” Ange sighs. This again?

Kim, the front of the three, trips and has to steady herself against a locker. She whirls around to stare at Ange with wide, incredulous eyes. “You have a crush on Josh Mankey?!” 

Well, if no one had heard Jessica, they definitely hear Kim yell out that embarrassing misunderstanding. 

Suddenly, eight pairs of eyes are staring her down. Ange suddenly feels like a steak in front of a hungry pack of wolves. She stops short, afraid to continue into the room. “I really don't.” Ange grins nervously. “I just like his art.” Honestly, there was something funny about being surrounded by several girls in various states of nakedness and still feeling like the most vulnerable one there.

She would analyze the humor of that later.

“It's alright, Ange.” A girl - Hope, Ange remembers, coos. “We aren't judging. Josh is absolutely yummy.” She unwraps her towel from her body to wrap her hair and start dressing.

Ange realizes that the ceiling is a very fascinating structure. 

“You can say that again.” Jessica chimes in. Ange can hear the smirk in it. “Artists are totally in right now.” 

“When aren't they?” Bonnie says to Ange's right. Ange glances at her, sees Bonnie about to remove her top and focuses on the ceiling again. The glimpse of Bonnie’s shoulder blades burn themselves forever into Ange’s mind.

Maybe she could get a PHD in ceiling studies. 

“Girls-” Kim turns to the others, then back to Ange, unable to make up her mind. “Josh Mankey? Seriously? Why didn't you tell me?”

“Seriously,” Ange sighs in defeat. With nothing else to do, she starts peeling her top off of her torso. “I do not have a crush on him. I would have told you if I did.” It might not be enough to convince the other girls, but she knows Kim will believe her.

And Kim does. Her nervous energy fades.

Hope, Tara, and Jessica all exchange a glance. Tara, the nicest of them, finally speaks up.

“Don't worry, Ange.” Her voice is soft and sweet. Lovely to listen to, really. “We won't tell anyone.”

“Oh, that's fine.” Ange hops out of her sweatpants. “The whole school probably knows by now anyway. I half expect Josh himself to show up and turn me down in person.” She finishes saying, voice dry enough to make up for the post shower humidity. Bonnie snickers to her right. Ange doesn't look at her. 

“Don't be like that, Angie.” Bonnie says. Kim frowns beside Bonnie, sensing the teasing behind it. “He probably doesn't even know you exist.” 

“Bonnie!” Kim glares now. Bonnie looks at her, innocent as a flower.

“I'm just telling the truth, K. Lay off. Ange isn't exactly Ms. Popular.”

Whose fault is that? Ange thinks. But she doesn't want a fist fight to happen between naked girls in the locker room, so she keeps it to herself. 

Or maybe she does? Ange swallows that thought down and locks it away. Something else to analyze later. 

“It's cool, Kim.” Ange starts heading towards the showers. Hopefully the steam will blind her. Or kill her. “I'm hoping he doesn't know I exist. Then we can all forget this ever happened.” She turns the lever and wills the hot water to wash away the memory of this conversation.

Chapter Text

Kim throws herself up the stairs. Each stride eats up three steps. By the time Ange reaches their room, she's already squished herself into her compression shirt and cargo pants. It's five in the afternoon and Professor Dementor is trying to take over the world.

Again. 

“Your ride is ten minutes out.” Wade's voice sounds from the Kimmunicator in Kim's hand. “They can get you to Brazil in a few hours.” 

“Thanks, Wade.” Kim grins at him. She's already slipping into mission mode, more focused and alert. She paces along the edge of the room, willing her ride to get here faster. Ange gives herself a moment to watch her sister before she turns around and descends back down the stairs. Kim blinks at the empty stairway. 

They had had to cut their mall visit short. Kim hopes Ange isn't too annoyed about it. Being pulled away from prior engagements was one of the bigger downsides to being a world saving teenage spy. Unfortunately, the world saving part was just too important. 

The house is just starting to rumble from an approaching jet when Ange scrambles back into the attic.

“You're still here!” Ange looks relieved. “Here, I made you something.” 

She places her fist into Kim's gloved hand and reveals…

“A pair of gloves?” Kim's voice raises in confusion. She gives Ange an unsure smile. “My gloves work just fine, Angie.”

“These are special gloves. Put them on.”

Kim decides against asking more questions. There’s not enough time. The rumbling from the jet is almost above them now. She pulls her own gloves off and slides her hand into Ange's pair. The material is less restrictive. She flexes her fingers. It's nice, but..

“Be careful.” Ange murmurs. “There's a laser in there. It won't pierce the gloves, but it's pierced everything else I’ve tested it on.”

“A laser?”

“You always complain about getting caught in traps.” Ange places her hand around Kim's. One by one, she folds Kim's finger into her palm. 

“Well, that's just how it goes.” Kim watches Ange work. She lets out a startled laugh when the laser finally activates, arching back on itself like blue lightning. Only an inch long, it crackles on the tip of Kim’s singularly extended middle finger. 

“Don't tell mom.” Ange grins. 

The jet shakes the house to its foundation. Out their attic window, a ladder falls into view. Kim slides the window open. 

“Come back.” Ange calls out to her sister. But her voice is drowned under the roar of a powerful engine. Kim grips the ladder and throws a thumbs up over her shoulder. She’s gone in seconds.

Ange's grin cracks. 

“Please come back.” 

---

Thursday is largely and thankfully uneventful for Ange. There was the sly glance on occasion, no doubt about the Mankey allegations. But one of the pros of being at the bottom of the social ladder was that no one really has her on their radar. Only the people that matter notice her.

Chemistry class is rowdy as she slips into the room. Only one more class until school was out. Only one more day until the weekend. The students are buzzing with anticipation.

Bonnie is sitting on Ange's desk, a long tanned leg crossed elegantly over the other. She's chatting with her girls. From behind, Ange can only just see the way Bonnie's cheeks bunch upwards. She's smiling.

Ange knows she's about to interrupt. She almost feels sorry for it.

As she makes her way towards her desk, Bonnie's head moves to the side, replying to something Tara says. Bonnie must catch her out of the corner of her eye, because she turns her torso a little and gives Ange an uninterested glance.

“There you are, Possible.” She scoots back a little so Ange can get into her seat. “Let's actually make this polymer today, alright? We've been dealing with these chemicals for so long, if I have to spend another period with them I'll strangle something.” 

“Alright.” Ange huffs a laugh. “Only because I feel like that something is going to be me.”

Bonnie smirks at her. “You learn quick.”

Mr. Barkin walks into the classroom. Bonnie hops off the desk to join Ange at a seat. Ange starts to set up their experiment. She places the first beaker on the table when Bonnie reaches over and grabs her hand. She flips it over, cataloging the bruise on the back. Its grown splotchy and yellow in the process of healing, but it was certainly healing. 

Satisfied, she lets Ange go. 

The darker complexion of Ange's skin only does so much to mask the way her ears have colored. Thankfully, Bonnie doesn't get the chance to notice. She's leaned over to gossip with Tara.

“I heard we're going to camp Wannaweep this year.” From the tone of her voice, Bonnie doesn't sound impressed. “If the name is anything to go by, I definitely have a bad feeling about it.”

“It can't be that bad.” Tara says. From the looks of it, her experiment has something to do with plants. Miserable plants, as most of them are withering away. “We're the cheer squad. There's no way Middleton would let us go to a dump.” 

That's right. Ange remembers Kim talking about the next cheer competition with the unfortunate name. That was coming up soon.

“Do you think they’ll give us our own cabins?” Tara says. Her expression grows alarmed. “Or like, make us sleep in tents?”

“I’ll actually go home if we’re assigned tents.” Bonnie sounds offended at the very thought. “All I know is that if I'm forced to bunk with Possible, one of us isn't going to make it out alive.” She remembers who she's sitting besides, and glances warily at Ange. “No offense.”

“None taken.” Ange slides a lighter towards Bonnie. “Kim wouldn't kill you. She might break one of your bones, though.” 

The lighter is snatched from the table. “Like I'd lose to her.” 

“Bonnie, I've seen Kim throw a grown man thirty feet. On a Tuesday.” 

Bonnie opens her mouth, then shuts it after a moment of thought. She lights the bunsen burner. “...How grown?” 

Ange’s only answer is an exasperated smile.

Chapter Text

Bonnie leaves the chemistry classroom with a satisfied sway in her steps. She clutches her notebook in one arm against her side. It's full of graphs and tables and all the other raw data that Ange had been adamant they record. It’s not science if it's not recorded. Is what Ange had said. Then it's just hoping something cool happens.

“What a dweeb.” Bonnie murmurs to herself. She notices how the corner of her lips tilt upwards, and grimaces. 

Sneakers squeak on linoleum. “Bonnie?” 

That dweeb jogs to catch up to her, then falls into step beside her. Bonnie looks at her with a scowl. Ange ignores it and smiles back at her.

“Do you still want me to come over tonight?” 

Something that Bonnie was starting to realize about Ange was that she was incredibly earnest. She's staring at Bonnie with big blue eyes, taking in Bonnie's expressions with laser like focus. It makes Bonnie feel seen.

It's uncomfortable.

“Why do you need to come over?” Bonnie asks, looking away first. “We succeeded.” She can see the vial of fresh polymer poking out of Ange's breast pocket.

Ange was wearing a white button up today, with black slacks and black sneakers. Nothing inspiring, but a far better outfit than the usual sweatpants and oversized t-shirt. She put that on because of what Bonnie had said on Monday, Bonnie realizes.

“We still need to write out the report.” Ange says. “If we finish that tonight, I figured we could finish our homework in class tomorrow. Then I can go and tinker in the lab and you can go and do, uh.” Ange looks ponderously at the shorter girl. “Whatever it is that popular girls do on the weekend.” 

Bonnie rolls her eyes. This time, she doesn't notice that she's smiling. Ange does, and she opens her mouth to say something when-

A thump makes them both pause. 

As a pair, they look towards the source of the noise. A gray and cold wall of lockers greets them.

“Angelus,” one of the lockers says, pitifully. “Is that you?”

“Donavan, oh no!” Ange hurries over. Donavan starts tapping the inside of the door so she knows which locker he's in. She gets to work immediately. A practiced ritual at this point.

Ange presses her ear against the cool metal door. Cracking a lock required a delicate touch that had taken a bit of practice to master. Her long and calloused fingers carefully tick at the dial until she hears a soft click. She reverses direction and repeats two more times. 

Once it's unlocked, Ange throws the door open. A ruffled mess of a boy falls out onto the floor. 

Ange reaches under his arms, picks him up, and places him on his feet. They both work together to wipe the dust from his clothes. Ange takes a moment to straighten out any wrinkles while Donavan fixes his glasses back onto his face. “Thank you, Angelus.” He says gruffly. “I guess the school day is over-”

Donavan stops short as he catches sight of something over Ange's shoulder. Ange turns to look.

Bonnie leans against the lockers with cool elegance. Her hand is placed delicately on a cocked hip. Her gaze is thoughtful as she appraises the pair. 

Appraises Ange, really. Donavan realizes this as he looks between the two girls. Ange is smiling at her. 

Bonnie parts her beautiful lips and says, “Meet me at my place at five.” She kicks off of the lockers casually and gracefully. As Bonnie walks down the hall towards the parking lot, she glances over her shoulder. “And text me when you get there!”

“Bye, Bonnie.” Ange calls after her warmly. Bonnie doesn't reply.

Donavan stares at Ange with a cocked eyebrow until she finally looks at him. Under his intense stare, she gradually flusters. 

“W-what? What is it?” She shuffles a foot against the ground nervously. 

“Since when did you become friends with Ms. Rockwaller?” 

“Oh.” Ange melts into a happy grin. “I'm still working on it.” 

---

Ange hides her bike behind the same hedge as last time and pulls out her scraped up flip phone. There is an embarrassingly small number of numbers in her contacts. Mom, Dad, Mama, Kim, and Donavan. The tweebs weren't old enough to have phones yet. Ange taps the newest addition to her list - Bonnie.

I'm out front. Ange hits send and waits by the front door.

The air is cool on her face, the sky full of dramatic clouds, birds chirp in the large trees surrounding the Rockwaller house. Ange admires the moment like a painting. An observer, separated and peaking in. 

She thinks about her day. 

Kim forgot to eat a lot. This morning, Ange had shoved a breakfast wrap into Kim’s grateful hands as she was halfway out the door. Ange had stuck around a little longer to watch the tweebs assemble a missile out of cutlery and pancake syrup. 

She left the moment it looked like it was about to explode. They could handle the clean up.

School was the same blend of monotony and knowledge. If she could have, she would have gone to college already. Her mama had insisted she stay in her age range so she could be properly socialized. She had pressed back at it at the time, but Ange had to admit it was an idea that has some merit to it.

She'd managed to snag a close friend in Donavan. Ange hears the door open behind her. Maybe she could catch another one.

Bonnie steps aside to let Ange in. As they pass through the kitchen to get to her room a woman looks up from the fridge. She has the same skin tone as Bonnie, darker blue eyes, hair that frames her face and neck in waves. There is also a look of disdain that Ange had gotten so used to seeing. Only this time, it's pointed at Bonnie.

“Bonnie.” She says, and Bonnie stops walking with a frustrated sigh. “You only bring friends around. When are you going to get a boyfriend.” The woman's face twists in a cruel grin. “If you can find a boy that wants you, I mean?” 

“Oh, shove off, Connie.” Bonnie masks the tiredness in her voice with venom. “I bring friends over because I actually have a social life.” She sniffs at Connie. “You should find one.” 

“Hm.” Connie dismisses the dig as she looks Ange up and down. “If this is what you call a social life, I'm not missing anything.” 

Ange can see the way Bonnie's shoulders tense as she prepares a reply. Before the situation escalates, Ange speaks.

“Is this one your mom?” 

Two sets of eyes blink at her. Ange smiles as innocently as she can manage. Connie’s face starts to transform into something angry, but Ange is only looking at Bonnie. She can see Bonnie bite the inside of her lower lip to maybe, hopefully, stop a smile. 

“Just who do you think you are-”

“She’s my other, way older sister.” Bonnie drowns her out and turns into the hallway. “C’mon. This paper isn't going to write itself.” 

Ange meets Connie’s glare head on as she follows Bonnie to her room.

Chapter Text

Bonnie's room is made up just as neatly as the last time Ange had been allowed in. A perfectly made bed, an organized bookcase, a clean desk. The papers that had been stacked on it on Tuesday were absent. 

There were other changes too. Bonnie's closet door was open. More clothes than Ange has ever owned in her entire life hung from hangers. All of them were curated to look well together. There were thousands of potential outfits in there that could be made with only a hundred or so garments. 

And the shoes. Heavens, the shoes. 

They had their own two tiered rack that spanned the entire bottom part of the closet. Some were high heels, others were sneakers, some sparkled, and some were matte and scuffed from use. All of them looked great.

She would be a high maintenance girlfriend, Ange mused. She felt a little sorry for Brick, then thought better of it. 

That would be part of the fun.

Bonnie had left her window open. A breeze swayed the curtains as it made its way inside. 

The room smelled like Bonnie's perfume. It a scent that is gently floral and spicy. Ange wouldn't be able to identify it in a thousand years.

Ange spots another change as she makes her way to Bonnie's desk. A second chair had been brought in. As Ange sets her backpack on the table, Bonnie settles into the seat. After Ange has pulled out her notebooks and pen, she's startled to meet turquoise eyes.

Bonnie is mulling something over. Ultimately, her curiosity overpowers her pride and she opens her mouth. “Why did you do that?”

“...you mean with Connie?” Ange says, seeking clarification. Bonnie nods slowly. “She was being mean.” 

Bonnie's mouth parts slightly. It takes her a few seconds to process her reply. “I'm mean.” It's a statement, but it carries more than one question. 

Ange answers the first one. “That's not how people who love each other speak to one another.” Something in Bonnie's eyes quivers, then steadies. Bonnie is not ready to show Ange any kind of weakness, Ange concludes. She lets Bonnie gather herself before continuing. “And I don't really care if you're mean to me.” Ange says with a shrug.

Bonnie's eyes narrow with thought. It raises an alarm in Ange's mind. “Er, sometimes it's even kind of fun? Depending on how, uh, you go about it. Does that make sense?” Ange adds quickly.

To her relief, that actually gets an amused snort out of Bonnie.

“Are you some kind of a masochist, Possible?” 

“There’s some sadism in there too.” Ange grins toothily at her. It only widens when Bonnie actually laughs, something disbelieving and breathless. “So, like, watch out. I bite.”

“You wish.” Bonnie opens up her own notebook, full of all the data gathered earlier in class. “I could take you in my sleep.” 

Fighting words. “Only if I let you.” Ange quips back. Ange's eyes catch Bonnie's soft hands against the pages, a portrait framed by white. She shivers. 

“Actually, let's not find out. Your nails could take out one of my eyes.” 

“Only one?” Bonnie smirks at her. It's likely why she kept them like that. Ange lets herself smile nervously and start to write.

The two girls work in tandem for an hour and a half before the evening air gets too cold to leave the window open. Bonnie leaves her seat and closes it with a quiet thud. The sounds from outside are immediately muffled. They're in their own world now.

Instead of returning to the desk, Bonnie watches the scenery.

It's the beginning of sunset. Pink starts to kiss the horizon. The clouds catch on fire in a vibrant orange. It is so bright that Ange can see it through the glass. 

Framed by celestial light, Ange watches Bonnie.

Bonnie turns suddenly. She catches Ange mid stare. It takes a split second for Ange to compose her features, but it’s enough. Bonnie’s eyes widen in surprise at what she saw on Ange’s face. 

Ange looks back at the page she's writing on and speaks like nothing ever happened. “When we’re done with this project, are we going to go back to what we used to be?” Ange has a smile on her face, but whatever she’s feeling underneath is unreadable. 

“Oh.”

Bonnie hadn't expected Ange to speak so plainly. Despite herself, a current of guilt flows through her chest. She didn’t want to be reminded of what her and Ange used to be. Finally, Bonnie lets herself admit that she found Ange… tolerable.

“No.” Bonnie makes her way back to her desk. She primly tucks her miniskirt under her legs as she sits. “I'll try to be meaner to you in the right ways this time.”

Ange throws her head back and laughs. 

---

“Oh my God, finally.” Bonnie stretches her arms over her head until she feels the satisfying crack of her spine popping. In front of the pair is a project summary that would make Mr. Barkin fall to his knees and weep with joy. 

It had better, considering how much work Bonnie had insisted they put into it. She was definitely getting an A Plus on this.

“You can say that again.” Ange lets herself fall forward in an exasperated heap. Though Bonnie didn't have her technical knowledge of science, her standards for writing were high and strict. Ange wasn't complaining. It was satisfying to work hard, even if it left her tired at the end of it. “I never want to pick up a pencil again.”

“Stop being a baby. It wasn't that bad.” Bonnie rolls her eyes even though she knows Ange can't see her. 

Ange tilts her head to the side just enough to be able to regard Bonnie. Ange's blue eyes peak out from behind her ruffled copper-brown bangs. She sticks out her tongue. “Don't wanna.” 

This time Ange does see Bonnie roll her eyes. 

 “Alright, baby.” Bonnie leans over to nudge Ange's side with her elbow. The movement causes Bonnie's bare leg to rest flush against Ange's. It's warm  - hot, burning - through the fabric of Ange's pants. The feeling makes her stomach do a disorientating flip. 

Oh.

Everything clicks into place.

“Go home and bother someone else.” Bonnie continues, not realizing Ange's entire world has flipped on its head. She doesn't notice the way Ange's hands tremble, or the quiet shaky breath that she takes. There's definitely something strange about Ange's smile. She doesn't get enough time to find out what that is before Ange stands up.

“I'll see you tomorrow, Bonnie.” Ange murmurs as she gathers her backpack. The sudden shift in tone makes Bonnie raise an eyebrow.  It makes Ange pause. She needs to cover this or else Bonnie might know.

“I gotta go get my bottle or I'll get cranky.” Ange jokes. 

Bonnie lets out a withering sigh. If her mouth twitches upwards ever so slightly, she'd never admit it. 

“See you tomorrow, Possible.” She looks outside at the night. The sky is black and inky. “Are you able to get home alright?” 

“Easy peasy.” Ange is already shrugging her backpack on. “Uh, lemon squeezy.” 

“... you are such a loser.” 

Ange giggles. 

---

Her ride home was spent in a daze. She doesn't register the cold, or the darkness. It is purely muscle memory that gets her there in one piece. Every other iota of energy needed to function was spent analyzing every single interaction she'd had in the last few days.

Bonnie cornering her in the chemistry classroom on Monday. Spending the evening with her on Tuesday. Wednesday, the locker room - Oh dear God, the locker room. So many beautiful and naked girls. The line of Bonnie’s slender back.

Tonight, not even an hour earlier, staring at Bonnie as she was framed by a sunset. Everything is recontextualized, and it feels right.

She wheels her bike into the garage. She enters the house and gives her parents an absentminded hello. She walks up the two flights of stairs to get to her room with a glazed stare.

Kim is reading a magazine on her bottom bunk. Laying on her stomach, her legs kick the air. At the sound of Ange walking up the steps, Kim looks up and gives her a smile that lights up the room.

“Hey, Angie.” She says. “Did you have a good time at Bonnie's?” Kim doesn't expect her to say yes, of course. She couldn't imagine an evening with Bonnie would be pleasant for anyone-

“Kim?” 

Ange's voice is so small in a way Kim has never heard before.

Something protective starts boiling in Kim's chest. Her hackles rise dangerously. What could Bonnie have done to cause Ange to act like this-

“I think I like girls.” 

…Oh. 

Chapter Text

Kim hops off the bed and lands without a sound. Ange is clutched in her arms only a moment later. Kim's always been the lankier of the two. It was hard to put on weight when half her time was spent traveling across the world and giving villains a bad day.

Ange was softer.

Kim feels it in the way Ange trembles, knows it when she hides her face against Kim's shoulder. She wraps around Kim’s boney torso with desperate strength. “Hey, it's okay.” Kim coos into her hair. She walks backwards until the back of her knees hit the mattress of her bed. She leans back and lets Ange collapse on top of her. “Liking girls is totally fine.” 

It comes out so awkwardly Kim winces. She was used to swinging in on a grappling hook and stopping a disaster with a punch. After all this time, the faces of the people she'd save started blending together. But the look in their eyes when she arrived - gratitude, awe, relief - was the same every time. She solves her problems with actions. It's not like she was bad at conversation, but.. it wasn't as natural.

“I'll always support you, Angie.” Kim says and is satisfied when the tension in Ange's frame starts unraveling. “No matter what, we stick together.” 

“Thanks, kim…”

She feels Ange smile against her shoulder.

They lay together for a while longer, Ange nestled against her side and Kim's arm around her. Sharing warmth and comfort. It's silent as they both think through this confession. 

When Kim is certain Ange is as comfortable as she can be, she voices her thoughts.

“So, like..” Kim sees Ange tilt curious blue eyes her way. “Of all the people to get a crush on, you had to choose Bonnie?”

“What-” Ange springs to her knees and shakes her hands back and forth fast enough that they blur. “A crush- who said anything about a crush?!” Ange’s cheeks radiate heat. Her blush is so fierce it starts creeping towards her neck. 

“You just came from her place.” Kim points out. She feels a grin form on her face when Ange twitches. Despite how unpleasant she found Bonnie, an opportunity to tease her sister was too good to pass up. 

“I-it's not- I mean I did just come back-” Ange’s voice raises two pitches higher than normal. “But it's not a crush! I just think she's ho- pretty!” There’s almost a hysterical quality added in at that slip up. “I think she's pretty! That’s all!” 

“Oh my god.” Kim bites her lip, but it doesn't stop the laughter from bubbling past. Ange glares at her. All of the sharpness is tempered by the redness staining her entire face. “Bonnie was your gay awakening.” 

Ange picks up Kim’s pillow and smothers her with it.

---

Friday arrives in glorious sunlight.

Ange holds the door to school open for Kim. Kim leaves Ange for her locker with a kiss on the cheek. It was a long standing tradition they'd kept from childhood that Ange hoped would never change. 

She grabs her literature textbook and heads over to Donavan’s locker to wait for him. As she loiters against a locker, a group of pretty girls walk past her down the hallway. Ange catches the last snippets of their conversation.

“...and when he took his jacket off, I saw his forearms. They were like, covered in veins.”

“Do you think he's stronger than Lucas?”

“Brick totally is. He even throws better - and he's taller…”

Their voices fade into the general buzz that haunted the high school hallways. It was the last day of the week, so everyone was especially excited. Ange was one of them. The upcoming weekend meant forty eight hours of  non-stop experimenting time (and caffeine. An obscene amount of caffeine). Tinkering in the lab was by far her favorite hobby. She might even finish installing the ionic thrusters for her project. 

A tiny thrill went through Ange’s spine at that thought, even as she pondered what she'd just heard. This would be her very first full twenty four hours of her girl liking life - And she had just heard something important. 

Girls liked strong and tall partners.

Ange was decently strong. 

Kim was stronger by far. She was full of dense muscle that she'd gotten from hours of fighting or training daily. She didn't, however, look particularly strong. Fit, definitely. Capable too, but also skinny and lanky. It was always funny seeing pictures of Kim on the news, standing next to the latest captured villain twice her size and with muscles bigger than her head. The caption underneath would declare her, Kim Possible, teenage girl, the victor in big bold letters.

Villains were supposed to have egos bigger than the planet they tried to conquer. How did they find it in them to try again, knowing they had been humiliated in front of the world.

Well, maybe that's exactly why they got back to it.

Ange, on the other hand, only spent her time lugging heavy machinery around the lab. It left her with some definition, at least she thought so. She looks down at her forearms and flexes her fist. 

No veins. She clicks her tongue.

The height on the other hand… Ange had stopped growing at thirteen. An even five feet and four inches, she was the perfect national average. In summary, not tall at all.

Donavan arrives as Ange mulls that over in her mind. 

She looks lost in thought. He notes. Because he's a gentleman, he lets her stay in the moment while he grabs his textbook. The click of his locker door pulls her out of it. When her eyes catch sight of him, she gives him a familiar, sweet smile. Comfort and safety are a promise in that smile. 

“Pleasant morning, Angelus.” He tucks his book into his oversized pack. They start towards the classroom together. “I see you managed to survive the evening at Ms. Rockwallers in one piece.” 

“Oh,” Ange adopts an ironic grin. “More than one piece.” She says mysteriously. Donavan quirks an eyebrow at her, but Ange just shakes her head.

She is not ready for that conversation yet.

Just in case Max decides to trip Donavan again, Ange decides to walk into the classroom first. It was unneeded. Max is too busy listening to his posse of friends. 

There in the middle, befitting her title of most popular cheerleader is Bonnie. She's lounging against the side of one of the girls, filing her nails. The girl has an arm casually draped over Bonnie's shoulder even while her attention is focused on the rest of the group.

Ange doesn't care about the group. 

She must have been watching too long, or at least long enough that Bonnie spots her when she lifts her hand to examine it in the light. Their eyes meet, turquoise and blue. Bonnie doesn't say anything, but she spares Ange a brief smile that has Ange floating all the way to her desk. 

Once she sits down, she lets her head fall onto the table. She liked girls so much it was embarrassing.

Chapter Text

Ange stops halfway to the library to stare at a newly showcased painting. It's something large and romantic. A figure standing at the bottom of a mountain, dwarfed by the vast landscape. It's executed with such skill that it looks out of place in the school hallways. 

“What do you think it means?” Someone asks Ange from behind her shoulder. 

“Well, art is always interpretive, isn't it?” She says, not looking away. “Someone could see a sense of adventure. That figure looks like the could be ready to conquer that mountain. Someone else might view it as the very opposite.” She drinks in as much detail as she can. “That nature is king, and should be handled with respect or else you'll get consumed by it.” 

“Cool.” The person walks up to stand to her right. “What do you think?”

Ange looks at the small smudge that is the figure. “I think it's melancholy.” She gestures towards it. “That person is the only one there. But they aren't alone, because the landscape itself is their companion. Uh, if that doesn't sound too pretentious.” The person beside her laughs. Ange turns to look at them and comes face to face with Josh Mankey.

She double takes. “Don't worry about stuff like that. It's only as pretentious as you make it out to be.” Josh says to her. 

“That's a good way of viewing it.” Ange says.

Josh is about six inches taller than her. His dyed blonde hair is styled coolly, his nose is crooked in a cute kind of way, and his eyes are a vibrant blue under the fluorescent lights. Ange can understand why half the girls in school want him. He's very handsome.

“Art puts in what you get out of it.” Ange continues.

That makes Josh grin lazily at her. “You get it.” He nods towards the piece. “Do you like it?” 

“It’s lovely. Your style is always so distinct.” 

“Ooh, you're flattering me.” It really wasn't flattery. Josh had a way with the brush that she hadn't seen anyone else have. He walks up to the wall and leans against it right next to his painting. It only highlights how confident and laid back he is. Truly worthy of the admiration of the female population. He looks her up and down for a moment before continuing. “You're Ange, right? The science kid?”

“Wow.” How interesting. She didn't know she had a reputation other than loser. “You’ve heard about me?” Ange blinks at him, innocent as a flower. “Only pay attention to the good rumors, okay?”

It makes him laugh. “Alright, noted. Only the good parts.” Ange can tell he's thinking about something from the way he tilts his chin. “Hey,” Josh says as he comes to his decision. What he says next sends something cold through Ange's veins. 

“There's a dance coming up.” 

Ange opens her mouth in surprise.

“I don't have a date yet.” Josh says. Many details flash through Ange's mind. The rumors that she likes him, her place on the social ladder. Most importantly, how nervous Kim had gotten in the locker room that Wednesday. Before he voices his next thought, Ange interjects.

“Have you heard of Kim Possible?” Josh blinks in surprise. “She likes art too.” It wasn't a lie, either. Kim didn't exactly have time to immerse herself in it, but she definitely enjoyed the pieces Ange had shown her…. Ange hopes. 

“Kim Possible?” It takes a moment for Josh to recover. To her surprise, he starts laughing again. “I saw her on the news the other day. She saved that ambassador. It was pretty cool.” 

Ange nods wisely. “Typical teenage girl stuff, y'know.”

“Ha!” Josh looks positively chuffed. “And she doesn't have a date to the dance?” 

Another wise and sagely nod.

“Alright, that's good to know.” He pushes off the wall. “Do you think I'm even on her radar, though? Since she's so busy doing… typical teenage girl things.” 

“You won't know unless you ask.” Ange says, wiser, sager, as learned as she can make it. Josh claps her on the shoulder as he walks off.

“It was nice meeting you, Possible.” 

Once he's out of view, Ange sets her lunch pack on the ground and throws a fist in the air. 

Kim was gonna owe her so much orange chicken for this.

---

“Deep breath, then take the plunge.” Kim says to herself, trying to gather courage. It doesn't work, but she was going to do it anyway. Josh Mankey is painting a flier for the dance in the gymnasium. Kim was totally going to ask him out.

Before she can step through the door, it slams shut. Kim follows the familiar slender hand of her high school rival all the way to her annoying, tanned face. Ange was right though, Kim thinks ruefully. 

Bonnie was hot.

“You don't mind if I watch, do you?” Bonnie says with her annoying, pretty lips. Kim feels her brows draw downward.

“Watch what?”

“You, Josh.” Bonnie stops leaning on the door to examine her nails. Obviously, they're perfect, so she smugly stares Kim down with the corners of her eyes. “It's so obvious that you're crushing on him.” 

“It is not!.” But Kim crosses her arms. That girl was always bad at lying.

“Oh yeah,” Bonnie scoffs. She'd seen the way Kim had acted in the locker room last practice and she wasn't about to let Kim off her hook. “Gonna ask him to the dance?” 

Kim narrows her green eyes. “Why?”

This back and forth was a familiar practice between them. One that Kim didn't enjoy, but Bonnie did. Really, if Kim wanted to get anywhere after her high school career, she was going to have to grow some teeth. Bonnie's practically doing her a favor, right? There’s no way anyone could fault her for that.

Bonnie thinks back to freshman year, to neon yellow hair, and she shivers. After all this time, she still couldn't figure out how Ange had done it. The only upside was that it had been a weekend when Ange had struck, so Bonnie had had time to track her down and demand the solution before anyone at school had seen her.

…Did Ange do that on purpose? Bonnie suddenly thinks. As blunt as she was, Ange could be just as tactful. It was a mix that threw Bonnie off her game. It meant that she never knew what Ange was thinking, or what her next steps would be.

Bonnie pivots her intentions just slightly. She'd promised Ange she wouldn't be mean to Kim. “I think it's great.” 

Kim raises a disbelieving eyebrow. “Do you?”

“Yeah.” Bonnie gives her a fake smile. “I mean, I don't see why he'd say yes. He's turned down girls higher on the food chain than you. But I think, it's like, totally brave.” She never said she would be nice either. Bonnie opens the door, once again revealing Josh's handsome form. “Go for it, K.” Bonnie's voice drops into a purr. “I'm rooting for you.”

“I will.” Kim declares, hesitates, and ultimately chickens out. “After practice.” That doesn't mean she would give up though. She could do anything and she wasn't about to let a really cute boy break that record-

“Hey Bonnie.” Neither girl had noticed Josh get up and make his way to the doorway. They both jump, surprised to be acknowledged so suddenly. 

Bonnie recovers quickly. “Oh, hi Josh.” She says, sweet as pie. He was the most wanted boy in school right now. It would be so satisfying to steal him right out from under Kim's nose. A win win in her book. Before she can continue, Josh turns to Kim.

“Hey Kim.” He leans against the metal doorframe with his arm and crosses a leg behind the other. Kim quivers. An alarm rings in Bonnie's mind. He's not...

“H-hey yourself-” At the very least, Bonnie gets the pleasure of seeing Kim cringe in real time. What a way with words that girl had. “Uhm, what's up?”

“Your sister told me you like art.” Josh says, amused by Kim's shyness. It was kind of cute. Two pairs of eyes widen with shock. When did Ange have time to talk to Josh Mankey? How did she get the time to talk to Josh Mankey?

“Did she?” Kim squeaks.

Josh nods and continues, not realizing the conclusions the two girls were drawing. “Since we have so much in common, I was wondering if you'd like to be my date for the dance next week.” 

Kim has to use all of her willpower to stop herself from taking an excited leap. That would be ferociously embarrassing. “Uh-huh.” Kim says - garbles out really. Just in case Josh doesn't understand her, she nods frantically too. He laughs a little at that.

“Great. I'll pick you up at seven the night of the dance.” He slides back into the gymnasium. The door clicks shut behind him. Bonnie stares at it with wide, disbelieving eyes.

“Oh my god.” Bonnie looks back at Kim in time to see her actually do an excited leap this time. She touches the ceiling and then lands as silent as a cat. “Did that just happen? Am I dreaming?” Kim forgets who she's talking to and turns to Bonnie with tiny hops. “Tell me if I'm dreaming-”

Bonnie is glaring at Kim through her annoying, beautiful lashes. Then the fight leaves her in one long-suffering sigh. Now she was going to have to find a guy hotter than Mankey for the dance. There was no one hotter than Mankey right now.

“Congrats on the date, Kim.” She says, defeated. A deep well of envy boils in her chest. It makes her heart hurt. “You have a pretty cool sister.” 

She starts walking to her next class. “Don't tell her I said that.” 

Kim grins at her back. Kim was totally going to tell her Bonnie said that.

Chapter Text

It's actually crazy when Ange walks into the chemistry classroom.

Brick, who was sitting in front because he got partnered with a nerd, was tossing a football to another jock across the room. Thankfully there were no exposed chemicals to knock over. Some of the more avante garde students were huddled in a circle, taking turns singing the newest single the Oh Boyz had dropped this morning. Some of them were even good at it. Ange sees more than one paper airplane flying around the classroom and she sighs.

It was the last class on Friday. What did she expect?

She heads to her desk. As usual, Bonnie is sitting on it. Ange feels a strange bubbling of pride. It was her desk. She shoves that into a chest in her mind and throws away the key. Also as usual, Bonnie is surrounded by those six girls. At this point, Ange had bothered to learn their names. Tara, Chelsea, Sasha, Leah, Madison, and Clover. All girls that belonged to more popular clubs or sports in the school, cheerleading obviously included. All of them were pretty too, in their own unique way. Ange's eyes are drawn back to her desk. 

Bonnie was the prettiest.

“Hi girls.” Ange greets them. She exchanges a smile with Tara. To her surprise, a few of the others smile a greeting too, which she returns. Familiarity bred friendship maybe, Ange muses. She turns her attention to Bonnie and finds herself face to face with a cold and unamused stare.

“How in the world did you get Mankey to ask Kim out to the dance?” 

The girls explode into gossiping whispers behind her. Ange slides past Bonnie and into her seat. 

“We were talking about his newest piece.” Ange says, attention more on settling her backpack somewhere safely. It held their vial of polymer and she wasn't going to let it get destroyed. Not until they could show Mr. Barkin their completed project. “It seemed like he was about to ask me out and I- uh, panicked?” Thankfully she was a quick thinker. 

Ange props her chin in her hand and slyly grins at an annoyed Bonnie. “It sounds like it worked out though. Yippie!” 

Bonnie looks like she's about to say something when Tara speaks up. “Josh was going to ask you out?” Her tone is curious, which Ange appreciates. Some of the girls would have probably been mean about it. “And you said no?”

“I didn't say no.” Ange says to an incredulous Tara. “I redirected him to a more suitable party before he could ask me.” seven pairs of eyes stare at her. Ange giggles. “I really wasn't lying when I said I liked his art, not his… him.” 

And despite herself, Bonnie feels the corner of her mouth twitch.

She hides it by directing a glare at her deskmate. “Well who am I going to go to the dance with now? I was planning on asking Josh myself.” It's accusatory, but it also doesn't have as much venom as it normally would have. 

She's not mad, Ange realizes. She's whining. It was adorable.

“You could find a boy you like and ask him.” Ange offers to her. 

Obviously she did not understand that boys were status symbols to elevate yourself. Bonnie stares at her deadpan, but it molds into something more thoughtful. Maybe she could teach Ange how it's done. If she was going to be seen with Bonnie, she would have to lose the loser status.

It would be a big if, Bonnie adds. They weren't friends yet.

“I'll keep my eyes open.” Bonnie says dryly. She lets Tara lean over her lap to grin at her.

“You should ask Tyler.” Tyler was the captain of the ice hockey team. Not a bad choice, but… “He's such a cutie.” Tara continues. 

Bonnie runs a hand through Tara's blonde curls until Tara sighs, content. Ange is suddenly reminded of a scene in a movie Ron had made her and Kim watch. “It's standard viewing for every American.” He'd said, a hand over his heart like he was swearing an oath. “The Godfather's influence can be felt in everything to this very day.” 

If her status as queen of the school was any indication, Bonnie would definitely make a good mob boss. Tara would make a wonderful kitten. 

“You should ask him.” Bonnie says to Tara sweetly. “I heard that he was thinking about you.” She knew Tara had been crushing on the boy for a while. There was no way Bonnie was going to touch him. Besides, he was missing a front tooth. She was not about to be seen with a boy that didn't have a full, pearly white smile.

Tara's eyes sparkle. 

“Do you really think so?” Tara wiggles. That was also adorable, Ange thinks. Girls are adorable. Bonnie nods at her, eliciting a little squeal of delight that makes Bonnie's eyes ever so slightly warm.

Ange wonders if Bonnie's edges are mostly reserved for Possibles. It would make sense. From the snippets of conversation Ange caught in the halls, Bonnie was genuinely liked by the majority of school. There would have to be some softness to accompany her razor wit. No, Ange muses. Those edges were definitely reserved for losers, too.

Mr. Barkin stomps into the classroom, taking Ange out of her thoughts. Tara heads back to her desk, Bonnie slides into her seat, Ange suppresses a shiver as Bonnie’s bare leg brushes against hers… Again. Those cheerleading outfits were both a blessing and a curse.

What an embarrassing way to realize she was gay. Kim was never going to give her a day of peace again.

While the rest of class starts working on their projects - some frantically finishing up the experiment parts, and others writing down their reports - Bonnie and Ange take out the homework assigned to them for the weekend. They work through each subject methodically. Half way through class, Bonnie's pen halts.

Ange notices the lack of movement out of the corner of her eye. She finishes up her last sentence and turns to look at what Bonnie is working on. A half finished equation - precalculus. Bonnie has resumed her calculation, but the pen strokes aren't as certain. 

There's a moment where Ange wonders if Bonnie's pride will make her bite at Ange… Well, it wasn't an unappealing concept. She places a fingertip three steps in front of Bonnie's pen. “There's a mistake here.” Ange murmurs so the others in class don't hear. So close together, Ange gets to once again admire how different their hands are. Calloused, rough, scraped skin contrasts against soft, carefully manicured beauty. Damn, she was gay. “Do you want me to explain it?” 

Bonnie opens her mouth. For a moment it looks like she's about to scold Ange for her audacity. The harsh furrow of her brows gives it away. Then - “Augh, no. Let me try again first.” 

Ange hums out her approval. 

---

Wet, greasy, delicious noodles slide into Ron's mouth and down his throat. Even as he was swallowing, he twirled his fork around more and shoved another bite into his gullet. Beside him, Rufus pulled out a particularly tasty noodle and slurped it in one long wet noise. Kim pokes at her sesame chicken, Monique refuses to watch, Ange stares in fascinated, disgusted horror. 

“Immf nomf bmfn nnchf” Ron says through a mouth full of Lo Mein. Kim rolls her eyes. 

“Make sure your mouth is empty before you speak, Ron.” She says dryly, trying not to look at him directly. Ron blinks at her over bulging cheeks. Then, he gulps everything in his mouth down his throat. Ange swears she can see it bulge his neck as it slides into his belly. 

She sets down her chopsticks.

Ron eating Mexican was gross. Ron eating Chinese food… It was another animal entirely. “It's not Bueno Nacho.” Ron says, mouth empty - thankfully. He's grinning like a sheepdog. There's a piece of spring onion sticking to his chin. “But Quickly Panda is kinda growing on me.” 

It's Saturday afternoon and the mall is crawling with people. Kim had snuck into the lab and physically dragged Ange upstairs into the world of normal citizenship (as if Kim would know what a normal person did). Ange only stopped struggling when Kim whispered seductions of orange chicken and spring rolls into her ear. A thank you for arranging the Mankey sitch.

Ange needed to get some mechanical components anyway.

How innocently she’d started her meal. When Monique just finished her shift at Club Banana, Kim invited her over. When Ron had messaged her on the kimmunicator, Kim happily told him where they were. Ange didn't think twice about welcoming them into the fold, and he’d joined shortly after. 

She was beginning to regret her life decisions. 

No amount of orange chicken was worth… the horror she'd just witnessed. She shoots Kim an inquiring stare. How do you eat next to this? Ange's eyes say. Kim sighs with exasperation.

I just ignore it. Kim stares back. 

How?!

Ron looks between the two of them nervously. “Monique, they're doing it again.” He slides back in his seat to put a bit more distance between him and the sisters. They shoot him twin glares that make him let out a small eep. “Monique- help me!”

“I think you're on your own for this one.” Monique says. Now that Ron wasn't eating, she found the appetite to finish her Mongolian beef. “Getting between those two is a hard no for me.” 

“Thank you, Monique.” Kim says warmly, even as she stares Ron down. He shrinks into his chair. “Your constant support is noted and appreciated.”

“Anytime, girl.” Monique says with a smile, not regretting her life decisions.

Ron stops sweating when Ange finally looks away. He could handle a Kim glare - he was building immunity to them. Ange was scarier. He didn’t hang out with her as much, and… 

Sometimes when she looked at him, it felt like she was imagining how best to dissect him.

Ange slides her meal towards Rufus, who lets out an excited squeak and a “Thanks!” before literally diving face first into chicken-y glory. It really was a shame Rufus wouldn't let her take a DNA sample. He was a fascinating specimen. 

Through the masses, a flash of familiar brown hair catches her attention.

“Girls, gentleman, Ron.” Ange ignores his soft hey! “As lovely as our time together was, I have a flying machine at home calling my name.” She nods her head towards the direction of Spades, the Hardware Location. “And I need some three hundred and twelve grade stainless steel, size seven over eight knuts.” 

Three pairs of eyes stare at her in confusion. Rufus is too busy eating more than his bodyweight in orange chicken to bother. Ange just smiles and stands up. “I'll see you all later.” She drops a kiss onto Kim's cheek before exiting the food court.

Once Ange is out of earshot, Monique turns to a pleased Kim. “Is your girl always like that?” 

Kim and Ron both nod.

Ange really wasn't lying when she said she was going to Spades. She just didn't tell the trio that she was making a small pitstop first. 

If she told Kim that she was going to go pester Bonnie… Well, Ange didn't want to deal with the teasing right at this moment. It would only fluster her. Her steps are quiet as she approaches the direction she'd seen Bonnie head towards. Ange wasn't nearly as stealthy as Kim yet, but she was starting to get the hang of it. How wonderful to be able to use this skill on one of her friends - she really hoped they were friends.

Bonnie is surrounded by a few of the girls on the cheerleading team. Ange picks a group of teenagers heading in their direction and trails instep behind them. The best way to hide was in plain sight, her Shifu had told her. As they pass the cheerleaders, Ange slows to a stop. She was finally within earshot.

“...I just think it's so amazing how Kim is able to keep her figure.” Bonnie says, tone saccharine. It wasn't mean, technically. The technically was doing a lot of heavy lifting. “She eats so much. Like, does saving the world really burn that many calories or does she keep slim some other way-” 

A hand drapes over one of Bonnie's shoulders. The movement is so natural Bonnie assumes it’s another cheerleader coming to join the circle. She feels an arm wrapped around her back, and she sees her fellow cheerleaders’ eyes widen.

Maybe not.

“Hi girls,” A voice sounds cheerfully beside Bonnie’s opposite ear. One that she's become familiar with over the past week. She stiffens under Ange’s arm. “I hope we’re all having a lovely weekend.” 

Bonnie turns towards the voice and is gifted with Ange’s profile - bangs that hang over her eyes, a curved nose, and lips that are naturally plump. Unfortunately, it was beautiful. 

Jessica is nice enough to grunt an agreement, even as the girls collectively take a step back from the pair. Bonnie was so going to kill them later. Ange surveys their actions with a steady gaze “Ange,” Bonnie adopts her haughtiest tone. “Are you stalking me or something? lay off.” Bonnie shifts, preparing to push Ange off of her. Quickly, she stops. That movement was enough for her to realize Ange has greater upper body strength than she does. 

Ange turns her attention towards Bonnie in a deliberate motion. She understands now why her girls didn't want to deal with what was about to happen. Ange's deep blue eyes were openly observing her with gentle warmth.

Danger. 

Underneath the softness of Ange’s eyes is the promise of danger. Bonnie’s mouth opens slightly in surprise, but it's Angelus that speaks.

“You look really beautiful today, Bonnie.” Her tone is soft and pleasant. Warm, even. Bonnie can feel her stomach drop. “Don't ever talk about Kim like that again.” 

Before Bonnie can think better of it, her natural stubbornness rears up a challenge. “Yeah?” For years, Bonnie had trained herself to never show weakness. A skill she was thankful to have in times like these. She doesn't need to find her courage to push back, it was just second nature. Her lips twist snidely. “What are you going to do about it, Possible?” If dyeing her hair was the worst Ange could do, there really was nothing to fear. 

Ange’s eyes crinkle. She tilts her head behind her, towards the large fountain that was the centerpiece of the entire mall. The movement lifts her chin, exposing a long neck. Ange gazes down at her over the bridge of her nose.

“I'll throw you in that fountain.”

Bonnie blinks once. “What?

Ange crouches, hooks an arm around Bonnie's stomach, and lifts her off of the ground in a swift, smooth action. Before Bonnie - or any of her friends - can react, Ange turns around and starts walking towards the fountain. Bonnie's gaze meets Jessica's stunned eyes before she recovers. 

 “Hey-HEY!” Bonnie calls out from over Ange's shoulder. She flails her legs and Ange adjusts her center of gravity to compensate. “Let me go, Possible!”

“Wow, Bonnie,” Ange says. To Bonnie's annoyance, she sounds amused. “How much do you weigh? Two pounds?” It's enough to make Bonnie preen, just for a split second.

“Well, yea-” She remembers the situation she's been forced into. “That doesn't matter, Ange!” Bonnie can feel her face heating up. By now, most of the mall has stopped to stare at the duo. This was not how Bonnie wanted to become the center of attention. “Let. Me. Go!” 

“Take it back.” 

“Possible!” Bonnie digs her nails as hard as she can into Ange's back. It elicits a satisfying shudder through Ange's frame, strong enough Bonnie can feel it underneath her. Good, she hoped it hurt. “You asshole! This is like, assault! I'll call the cops on you.”

“Language.” Still, Ange doesn't stop moving. “I hope your phone will still work after it's wet.” Bonnie freezes when she sees one of the planters that surrounds the fountain pass them by. Behind her, she can hear the rush of water. She needed to make a decision and she needed to do it now. If a part of her didn't know she kind of deserved this - the part of her she did not ever acknowledge - she would have resented Ange more for forcing her hand like this.

Damnit. “Okay! Okay, I take it back!” Bonnie surrenders, flopping into deadweight atop Ange's sturdy shoulder. “I'm sorry I said that about Kim! Now let me go!” 

Finally, thankfully, Bonnie feels Ange stop walking. Warm hands bracket her hips as Ange gently sets her feet on the floor. In a movement that echoes Thursday afternoon, Ange starts fussing over her - brushing out any wrinkles from her clothes. It would have been kind of sweet if Ange wasn't the cause of said wrinkles. Rage explodes behind Bonnie's eyes.

Bonnie grabs Ange's collar in her fists and shoves her closer, face to face. She can feel Ange's startled gasp brush against her cheeks. Bonnie’s promise hisses through her clenched teeth.

“I am going to ruin you.” 

She watches Ange swallow. A feeling of smug gratification warms her chest. 

All the excitement had knocked a few locks of her hair loose. Ange reaches out and gently smooths one down. 

“You really do look beautiful today.” 

Bonnie's grip slackens. Ange slips the rest of her way out of it, watching Bonnie with soft blue eyes. No longer was there danger behind them. But... maybe a bit of caution. Not for her, Bonnie realizes. It didn't make sense for her to treat Bonnie cautiously after Ange had just manhandled her. So what else could it be?

“See you Monday, Rockwaller.” 

And like nothing happened, Ange turns around and walks away.
 

Chapter Text

Ange tightens the last grade three hundred and twelve, size seven over eight, stainless steel knut with a wrench as long as her arm. It was the only way to ensure the proper tightness to be test flight ready. Her flying machine - she was still figuring out a name for it - just needed a nice paint job and it would finally, finally be done. She steps back and drinks in all its glory.

It's a smooth trapezoidal platform. Protruding from the top is a control panel that's covered in buttons and dials. Ange intended this to be a floating laboratory of sorts so she wouldn't have to worry about the tweebs getting into her more delicate experiments... Or finding her more secret builds. Unseen to the eye were storage compartments that lined the entire hull. At the bottom were the eight ionic thrusters that she'd been working so long on. Overkill, but redundancy reduced the chance of failure. 

She lets out a satisfied sigh.

“...” 

Now what? 

She promised Kim she'd wait for her before taking it out for a spin. Kim was off on a mission in Portugal right now. It would be several hours before Ange saw her again.

Maybe she should get something to eat. The last thing she remembered having was a few bites of orange chicken yesterday. Ange starts heading for the stairs. The mental image of Ron looking at her, noodles hanging out of his overstuffed mouth pops into her head. She stops in her tracks.

No, she wasn't hungry anymore.

The laboratory was the size of a medium hanger, split into five sections. Ange, the tweebs, James, and Ann all had access to a separate corner. In the middle was an encased fourteen by fourteen box. It was Kim's training room that Ange and the tweebs had collaborated on. The more practice her sister got, the safer she would be.

Ange turns away from it. A part of her hated that thing, even if it was theoretically badical. 

As she does, her gaze crosses over her mom's section of the lab. There's neatly organized medical equipment of every kind. Ange can see vials full of pig brains that Ann liked to mess around with. She couldn't fault her mom for wanting to stay sharp.

Engraved in the wall is a simple bookcase. Her mom had filled it with all of her medical textbooks from college, plus plenty of other medical texts that caught her interest. Ange walks over and picks one out of the wall. She knew some pretty serious first aid - again, a skill she picked up because of Kim's favorite hobby. But maybe she could learn something a bit more… advanced.

---

It's an hour before school starts and Bonnie is already on campus. Her mornings started at four, when she'd eat a quick breakfast and then escape her house for ballet practice. Every weekday, from four thirty to six thirty, her instructor would drill perfection into her bones. Grace, poise, and drive were the minimum of expectation. Bonnie had only seen her instructor smile once. Two years ago, when Bonnie had spent extra time learning a grand adage sequence specifically so she could display it perfectly on the first try. Otherwise, ballet was literal sweat, tears, and blood. 

She fucking loved it.

Good things could never last for very long. By seven, she made her way to campus. It was more convenient than going home for thirty minutes and risk seeing her sisters, just to end up on campus anyway. Usually, she'd spend the hour finishing up her homework. Usually, it was math, one of her weakest subjects - to her endless frustration. 

This Monday, she had no leftover homework to finish. Having nothing to do was an odd feeling. Bonnie walks the halls aimlessly, the quiet only amplifying her steps. Everything was liminal and empty. She looks up and finds herself at the doors of the most familiar place in school to her, the gymnasium. She steps inside.

Bonnie liked her life busy. Sometimes, that meant practicing cheer routines in her backyard. Sometimes, it was something as simple as talking with her girls at the mall.

The mall. 

After Ange had set her down and walked away, she had turned to see Jessica, that brat, smirking at her. She wasn't the only one, either. At least Tara had had the decency to look nervously amused. “You look a little dry, Bonnie.” Marcella had teased. Behind her, Bonnie could hear the sound of running water. “Maybe you need a bit of moisturizer?” To rub salt in the wound, Hope had patted her on the shoulder. 

“Do you think you could convince her to be part of the pyramid base?” she'd said, like Bonnie hadn't just experienced one of the most publicly humiliating events of her life. 

Bonnie was going to murder Ange.

She passes most of the hour in the gym, stretching out her sore muscles. Maintenance was non-negotiable. The cheerleading meet at Camp Wannaweep was next week. Bonnie refused to get injured and let Kim take the star position. That girl-scout had everything handed to her. Bonnie growls at nothing.

No she didn't. She admits to herself. Kim is just that good. That fact was even more frustrating to grapple with. Bonnie spent hours of her day navigating the hierarchy of high school. Always to stay at the top. Kim usually missed half the day to go to some place and waltzed back in as well-liked as ever. What was it about Kim that let her do that? 

Why couldn't she be good enough? 

The school starts to get louder as more students arrive. Bonnie takes a shuddering breath to compose herself. Her hour is almost up, and she knows exactly what she was going to do with it. Just after she exits the gymnasium door she sets her shoulders and marches. Teenagers part before her like Moses parting the red sea. The expression on her face meant violence. Out of the corner of her eye, she swears she sees Stoppable walking in her general direction, spot her, and do a complete one eighty back down the hall.

Ange is annoyingly absent from her locker. There, loitering beside it is that nerdy blonde boy she'd never bothered to get to know. He swallows nervously when he sees her. To her surprise, he still straightens his spine. 

“Ms. Rockwaller, is something the matter?”

Bonnie blinks, then gapes at him. He was way weirder than she'd assumed. What kind of taste did Ange have? She would have to correct that - if they were friends. And they were not friends. “Where's Ange?” She sneers at him. It only forges steel into the boy's spine. 

That was supposed to make him cower. Bonnie frowns.

Well, maybe it did. She can see his hand quiver when he adjusts his glasses. “What do you want with her?” He says, voice dropping an octave lower. Bonnie latches onto his weakness like a shark smelling blood.

“Oh, I'm sorry.” Bonnie looks down at her nails. She'd chipped one on Ange's back yesterday. It took an hour for her to file her entire hand down to a satisfactory level, lest it look awkward. Of course, she'd then taken another hour to even out her opposite hand. “I didn't realize you were Ange's handler. Do you schedule all of her appointments? Why don't you mark me down right after-” 

Bonnie slams a hand into the lockers so hard it makes the boy jump. 

“BUZZ OFF!” 

“I-I-” He stammers helplessly. Whatever mettle he'd gathered drains away as he takes several steps backwards. Bonnie walks after him, a slow chase of predator and pathetic, awkward prey. She makes sure to show off her incisors along with her smile.

“That's what I thought-” Bonnie stops short when a hand presses against a locker, coming between Bonnie and that disappointing excuse of masculinity. She turns her head, coming face to face with blue eyes. Ange quirks an eyebrow at her. 

“Good morning, Bonnie.” Not taking her eyes off the cheerleader, Ange addresses the boy. “Good morning, Donavan. You should go to class. I'll meet you there.” 

Donavan flees with his tail between his legs.

“Ange!” Bonnie hisses. Then she takes a moment to visibly calm herself down. When she opens her eyes again, storm clouds swirl beneath them. She haughtily tilts her chin at the taller girl. “I really wasn't lying when I said I'd ruin you.” Bonnie regards her the way a snake might regard a mouse.

A strange smile appears on Ange's face. “You came just to tell me this?”

“Oh, no way.” Bonnie scoffs. She leans against the lockers and watches Ange open hers. “I came for an apology. You, like, totally crossed a line.” Ange pulls out her English textbook before regarding Bonnie. “What comes after depends on how good it is.”

“You think you didn't cross a line?” The question makes Bonnie clench her teeth. Ange can see the way Bonnie’s neck flexes to compensate. 

“Maybe I did.” She finally admits. Some of the tension in Ange's chest uncoils. “But I already took it back. I'm not going to do it twice.” Ange stops to consider her. It wasn't a bad point, technically. The logic was sound, especially for a scientist like her. It's just… Ange wasn't logical when it came to Kim, or any of her people.

The locker door shuts with a soft click. “Bonnie?” Ange's tone catches her attention. There was a bit of vulnerability in it. “If we're going to be friends, you can't talk about the people I love like that.” 

The sharp part of her, and it was a large part of her, rears up in challenge. She thinks about how Ange has slighted her, neon hair and public humiliation. Ange wasn't close enough to make demands yet. “Friends?” Bonnie gives her a disbelieving smile. “You think we're going to be friends?” 

“A-Aren't we?” 

Bonnie starts laughing. “Angie,” her tone mocks the girl. “Did you wake up yesterday?” Before her, in real time, Ange's face smooths into unreadable glass. Something in her chest tightens, but she can't stop. “The only reason we even started talking is because of that stupid group project. The only reason we kept talking?” Why can't she stop? Instead, she reaches up and flicks Ange's shoulder. “Because you got me a good grade in chemistry. But let's be real,” She drops her voice, leans up onto her tip toes so she can deliver it into Ange's ear. “Who would want to be seen with a loser like you?” 

Stepping back onto her heels, Bonnie meets her cruel gaze against Ange's blue eyes. They give nothing away. Ange just… watches her for a few more moments. Then, just like Saturday, Ange turns around and walks away.

Chapter Text

Every day, Ange brought a packed lunch to school. The food the cafeteria served ranged from kind of good to scarily gross. She knew Wade took a sample of the mystery meat once. His warning had been enough to halt her own scientific curiosity. So, a packed lunch. Ange preferred knowing what she put inside of her body, and it let her take her lunches in an isolated corner of the library.

If only Donavan had the same lunch period as her. Then she'd have someone to share conversation with.

Today, Ange was heading towards the lunchroom. She swept through the busy hallways. It was getting easier to navigate the crowd with every lesson her Shifu taught her. Something, something, the flow of water. Intellectually she didn't understand it, but maybe something in her intuition did. 

And she really needed someone to talk to.

This morning… Bonnie had made herself clear. Ange could still feel the whisper of her breath against her ear. They weren't friends, and they wouldn't be friends.

Once, when her mama was on rare leave from her work, she had come home and told Ange a bit about the Kostrama side of her lineage. We're born with luck in our blood. She'd said to Ange. How well you use it I leave to you. Ange wasn't sure if that luck was good or bad. Dolores hadn't clarified when she'd asked her.

It certainly wasn't enough to change Bonnie's mind.

She steps through the heavy double doors into the cafeteria and scans the crowd. She sees a mane of familiar red hair. Then, she stops short. There's Monique, there's Ron, there's Kim, and sitting by her side, an arm thrown over her favorite sibling's shoulder is Josh Mankey. Ange lets herself smile. At least one of them was having a good time.

Pivoting, Ange turns back into the hallway and filters into the crowd. 

She'd eat at the library. 

---

Bonnie isn't sitting on her desk in chemistry class. She's besides Brick Flagg, just like she used to be. All of the students are back to where they used to be. Up front, by the whiteboard is Mrs. Tomic, about to start a lecture. 

Ange sits in her chair and spends the rest of class staring out the window. 

---

A harsh bell rings, signaling the end of the school day. Students eagerly squish their way through the classroom door and towards freedom. Ange watches them go, hanging back to avoid the rush. She can see Bonnie at the back of the pack, saying something to Tara. 

The feeling in Ange's chest is suddenly suffocating. She shakes her head and starts packing up, carefully putting her papers and textbook back into her bag. Unseen to her, as Bonnie approaches the exit, she turns her gaze to Ange. She’s a figure surrounded by empty desks. 

Bonnie’s out the door by the time Ange looks back up, none the wiser. She has cheerleading practice to get to. 

Suddenly, Ange realizes she is completely alone. Even Mrs. Tomic had left, most likely for the staff lounge. The silence of the classroom screams at her. Before last week, Ange had been okay with being alone. Only, she realizes that she wasn't okay back then. She was just ignoring it. Now that she'd spent an entire week with more than one person - even Tara had been nice to her - her defenses had eroded. It hurt. Her body hurt.

There's the sound of a sniffle. Ange shoves her feelings far, far away. If compartmentalizing was good enough then, it would have to be good enough now.

Ange has to get to track and field. 

Hiking her pack over her shoulder, Ange purses her lips in thought. If she was going to do what she was planning to do, it wouldn't be ethical of her to stay on the team anymore. Ange starts jogging towards the turf. If she was lucky, she could catch Ian before the others arrived.

---

Cheer practice was another satisfying part of Bonnie's day. It was a lot like dancing, except instead of jealous rivalries between classmates, she got to spend her time working with a team. As annoying as her girls (and Kim) could be, they were still her girls… And Kim. 

Bonnie was the vice head cheerleader. A title she'd had to wrestle from the annoying red head with more effort than she'd like to admit. A title she was still proud of, even if it was only half a title.  So, she didn't mind taking the time to go over choreography twice with Tara, or work Jessica through a double pike backspring that Kim had made look easy.

“You need to lift your legs higher.” She barks at Marcella with narrowed eyes. She still hasn't forgiven her for the teasing on Saturday. Bonnie also plainly enjoyed ordering people around, but that was really just a perk of the job. “And straighten them at the top. I need to see some better form if we're going to pass Regionals next week.” 

Camp Wannaweep hung over them like a guillotine. It was one of the big steps that would propel them towards Nationals. And at Nationals, the eyes of scouts capable of handing out juicy scholarships would be watching them. Bonnie knew she wasn't the only one pushing for the win. A few of her girls didn't have as impressive grades as they'd liked. They had to win. More than one future depended on it.

The double doors to the gym open. Bonnie feels herself bristle. Kim and her had agreed to ramp up their intensity the last few weeks. Bonnie had even gotten Kim to agree to keep Ron away from practice for this week (unfortunately not forever. Baby Steps.) That idiot was just too much of a distraction. 

She whirls on him and stops short. 

It's not Ron at the door. 

“Ian?” She makes eye contact with the captain of the track and field team. Ian wasn't the most popular boy ever. As a team captain, Bonnie still respected him. But he’d never shown up at their indoor gym before. This… wouldn't be good news. “Do you mind waiting?” Her tone is both harsh and fair. “We’re on a roll here.” 

“Sorry, Bonnie.” He scratches at the back of his neck. There's lines of sweat beading down his forehead from his practice. “I just need to talk to Kim, is it alright if I borrow her?” 

“Me?” A voice speaks out to Bonnie’s right, making her jump. Kim walked without noise. It was super creepy. “Well,” Kim looks at the girls, then Bonnie with confusion. There must be something in Bonnie's eyes, because Kim's narrow with thought. “Sure, Ian.” She finally says, trusting Bonnie enough to fully take over. It would have made Bonnie feel smug if she didn’t feel so anxious. Kim heads towards Ian and out the doors. Just before they close, Bonnie hears kim's stupidly annoying catchphrase. “What's the sitch?” 

Chapter Text

“Did, uh, something happen with Ange this weekend?” 

Ian leans against the wall beside the gym door. The worried furrow in his brow only serves to settle unease in Kim's chest. He's the captain of the track and field team. The only reason he'd come to see her is if something was up with Ange. She watches him worry at the inside of his cheek. 

Kim raises an eyebrow at him. Her protective instincts were already growling at her. His question only makes them roar. “Why?” Her tone is flat.

“Just-” Ian runs a hand through his hair. He kept it cropped short, but it was just starting to get a little scruffy. “She quit the team right before practice. She said she had personal reasons for doing it.” 

Kim takes a breath. “She did what?!” Oh yes, something was definitely, majorly wrong here. “For personal reasons?”

“Ange didn't elaborate.” To Kim's surprise, guilt weighs down Ian's face. “I just- maybe it was me? I know some of the girls on the team don't really get along with her.” He wasn't particularly close to Ange, but she was pleasant to be around. “I could have done more to mediate between them, I think.” Girls were a bit of a mystery to him. To his great shame, he'd let that stop him from reaching out. 

He sighs, lowering his head. “Tell her there's always a place for her on my team, is all.” Ian finishes lamely. He had told her already, but he really wanted to hammer in the point. Track and field was an individual kind of sport. Losing Ange wouldn't greatly impact the team. It still made him feel like he was lacking as a leader. He should have and could have done so much more.

“Don't worry about it.” Kim narrows her forest green eyes. Learning that some of the girls on the team didn't like Ange was news to her. Why hadn't Ange told her? Kim thinks back to the expression on Bonnie's face. “I don't think it was you. Let me talk to her first.” 

She reaches over and rubs Ian's shoulder, even if it was kind of gross and sweaty. He seems mollified by the comfort. “I'll get to the bottom of this sitch, Kay? I'm sure it's nothing too serious.” 

Ian nods. “See you around, Kim.” He still had to make sure his team wasn't slacking on the endurance run he'd sent them on. Kim watches him jog down the hallway. 

It takes all of her willpower not to rip down the doors as she pushes her way back into the gymnasium. When she catches sight of Bonnie, she digs really, really deep to not throttle her on the spot. Kim didn't want to act until she knew exactly what was going on. She still couldn't forget that look on Bonnie's face.

“Hey girls,” She calls out. It comes out as a cold and dreadful order. Practice was over in five minutes anyway. “Hit the showers.” Her eyes stay trained on Bonnie as she walks towards her. To her immense satisfaction, Bonnie actually shifts uncomfortably. She must look really scary right now. 

The girls give Bonnie sympathetic looks as they filter into the locker rooms. Only after the last girl has stepped out and the thunk of the door closing in the gymnasium does Kim speak.

“If you had anything to do with this,” Kim murmurs to Bonnie, voice so low and cold it surprises even herself. “Well,” She smiles like a poisoned knife. Bonnie swallows, but it's the only weakness she shows. “You don't want to know what I'll do.” 

Kim turns and stalks towards the locker room.

“I don't even know what happened.” Bonnie finds her voice. Her face falls into the familiar comfort of disdain. “But seriously, if whatever happened is because of me?” She crosses her arms, meets the glare Kim throws over her shoulder head on. “Then your sister is more pathetic than I thought.” 

Bonnie smirks when she sees Kim visibly take a calming breath. 

She pretends not to worry.

---

Kim jumps down the entire flight of stairs, landing fluidly into a graceful crouch. As expected, she spots her target hunched over a workbench, tinkering over.. She wasn't really sure. It almost looks like it could be one of Drakken's contraptions.

Something the approximate shape of a microscope, but covered in electrodes and with a sharp point at the end.

As soon as she had left practice, Kim had sent Ange a text - where are you? Ange hadn't answered her, which meant either she was in trouble, or more likely, she was in the lab. 

She pads over quietly and curiously. Ange lacked the frantic energy the tweebs had when building. She was more like their father, methodically organized. There was some of mama in their too. Ange is very deliberate with her movements. Kim grins to herself as she waits. Ange picks up a delicate looking vial.

“Whatcha working on?”

“-AAH!” 

Ange jumps clear into the air. Biting her cheek to stop her laughter, Kim is kind enough to catch the vial that Ange had thrown in her excitement. She looks it over, and almost drops it herself.

It is filled with blood.

Ange snatches it from her hand. “Kimberly!” She chastises, but it has no heat to it. More than likely, Ange found it funny too. “We've talked about this.” Quickly, Ange clicks the vial into place at the top of her microscope thing. “You're not allowed to sneak up on me while I'm experimenting!” Every other time was fair game though. 

“Sorry.” Kim says, not sounding sorry at all. She eyes the vial, then looks at her sister. Kim takes in every micro expression she can before Ange notices herself being analyzed. Then, Ange closes herself off, becoming nothing but an unreadable smile. “I talked to Ian this afternoon.” Kim starts. She'd seen nervousness on Ange's face. Nervousness and sadness and some flavor of forlorn. Now, she just sees Ange observing her back. Kim hated when Ange did that. 

“Oh, right.” Ange reaches over, pressing a button so her machine powers on. “I quit the track and field team today.” 

“He told me that, yeah.” Kim leans her hip against the cold stainless steel (grade three hundred and four) countertop. “He said you quit for personal reasons.” Her eyes narrow when Ange doesn't immediately answer. She just watches her vial of blood start spinning around.

“Angie?” Ange finally looks at her. Kim only calls her that when it's important - or when she was feeling especially mushy. That was important in its own way, too. “Did… Bonnie say something to you?” 

Ange goes still.

Bingo. 

“I'm so going to kill her!” Kim snarls. She pushes off of the table. Already she's planning on how to break into Bonnie's house. It wouldn't be hard. Ange did it freshman year. “That stuck up, overcompensating, trashy-” 

A hand grips her wrist.

The only reason Kim doesn't throw her over her shoulder and across the room is because she knows it's Ange. 

She whirls on Ange. Green eyes lock onto blue, searching.

“You're misunderstanding.” Ange mutters. Kim waits for her to clarify. The silence is only broken by the whirr of the centrifugal machine. “She did say something to me. It's not why I quit the team. They're separate incidents.” 

It takes a moment for Kim to decide which one is more important. “What did Bonnie say?” Kim's voice is soft, gentle. She watches Ange's lips tremble. She feels the way Ange's hand shakes on her wrist. 

“I was just being stupid.” Ange lets her go, turns back to her work. Kim follows her. “She doesn't want to be my friend, is all.” Her tone is dismissive, but her spine is too rigid, posture too perfect. “No big.” 

Strong arms pull Ange into a hug. 

“Her loss.” To her relief, Ange wraps her arms around Kim. “You're the best friend anyone could ask for. I would know.” Ange sniffles into Kim's shoulder. Kim considers breaking her no killing rule. 

“Thanks, sis.” A whisper that cracks half way through. She was definitely going to break that rule.

The centrifuge slows to a stop. Ange gently pushes herself out of the embrace to press a few buttons on the body of the machine. She regards it and Kim regards her. 

Then she looks at the vial of blood.

“Ange?” Kim frowns at the machine. “If it wasn't Bonnie… Why exactly did you quit the team?”

“...I don't wanna say.” 

“No secrets, Angie.” 

Ange presses her lips together. Kim can see the struggle her sister is going through as she figures out how to word her thoughts. Kim hated that, too. If Ange thought too much, she could think of an explanation for almost anything. 

“Okay, I'll tell you.” Ange sighs in defeat. Kim lets out a sigh of relief. “It wouldn't be ethical for me to enter competitive sports.” 

“Huh?” Genuine confusion distracts Kim just enough. 

Ange shoves her hand under the machine. It reacts instantly, a needle pierces her skin and the vial of blood empties itself into the back of her hand just as quickly. A body slams into her side.

For one blissful moment, Ange is weightless. It was vertigo and freedom. And it doesn't last long. She crashes into the ground with a grunt, shoulders digging the hard concrete. Kim pins her hands above her head, straddling her in place. 

“ANGE-” Ange winces. Kim's voice has an overtone of panic. She didn't mean to scare her so badly. “WHAT did you just do to yourself?” 

“It’s alright!” She clarifies, not bothering to struggle free. There was no way she could break out of one of Kim’s holds unless Kim let her. “I already did all the testing. It's safe.” It would be more accurate to say that it was as safe as she could make it. Ange kept that to herself. There was no need to worry Kim more.

“But what did you do?!”

Warmth spread through Ange’s body. Despite the situation, it was really touching knowing someone cared about her so much.

“I just edited my genome a little bit.” It does nothing to calm the frenzied panic of the girl on top of her. “Uhm, to make myself taller.. and a little stronger? Though If I went too extreme with the strength, the simulations get really messy.”  

“You experimented on yourself?!” Kim sounds ever so slightly hysterical. Ange gives her what she hopes is a gentle, reassuring smile. It just makes Kim’s eyes widen, then narrow.

“I'm telling mom!” 

Shit.

Chapter Text

When Ange had been a younger child, her mama had taken her to her grandfather's ancestral home. At least, it was as much of an ancestral home as it could get, considering how many Kostramas ended up as vagabonds.

“We wander until we find a place to put down roots.” Dolores had said to her, voice velveted with accent. “And then our children do the same.” Ange wasn't sure how the urge to travel could be genetic. It, in theory, would help keep their bloodline diverse, so she didn't rule it out inherently. It also explained the restlessness that whispered at the back of her mind. She usually silenced it by building.

Mama had taken her to a province in Southern China, to a large elegant compound that housed more uncles and aunties than she could remember the names of. It was the only time Dolores had let her meet her grandfather. A familial obligation fulfilled once and only once. He was a man who did bad things, she had told Ange. 

She only remembered how he had bounced her on his knee.

Dolores had taught her many things during that time. How to observe, how to delegate, how to lead, and most importantly, how to respect her parents.

This is how she found herself sitting on her heels, kneeling in front of her mother and father. Kim is sitting on the couch, watching the show with an unamused frown. Ann is glaring at her, fists resting on either hip as Ange sinks further and further into the carpet of the living room. James hovers behind her, looking nervously between three of the four most important women in his life. In his breast pocket is a phone turned on speaker. 

Ann lets the silence hang in the air until she sees Ange shift uncomfortably. “Do you realize how dangerous what you did is?” Her voice makes everyone shiver. Ange refuses to look up from the carpet. Her head bobs a nod. “Angelus,” Ann doesn't yell at her, which is somehow worse. “Explain to me why you did this. Help me understand why you would risk your life like that.”

There is an audible swallow. It was going to sound stupid when Ange said it out loud. “So,” Ange squeezes her fingers against each other. “I was, uh.. observing the girls at school, right?” Ann raises an eyebrow. Kim blinks in surprise, putting the pieces together even as Ange continues. “They were talking about… how they preferred partners that were taller than them.” When Ange dares to peak up from underneath her brow and messy bangs, she sees Ann's mouth drop open. She looks back down very quickly. “A-and stronger than them. Uh.. yeah.” She trails off with a pitiful shrug. 

There's more silence as everyone processes this new information. Almost all of them. James clears his throat. “Well, Angie, you already exercise plenty. Why do you need to be stronger?” He frowns in thought. “And why do you want to be taller just because some girls say so-”

“That's enough, James.” Ann interjects with a fond eye roll. Her attention diverts back to her younger daughter. “Ange, dear,” She lets her tone warm. “I know how important it feels to be liked.” She reaches down and runs her fingers against copper waves. “But you shouldn't have to change yourself to get there.” 

Ange blinks up at her. “It certainly helps.”

Her mom deflates in front of her. “Dolly.” She calls out, more than a little frustrated. “A little assistance, please?” From James’ chest pocket is a rolling chuckle.

“Doing stupid things to impress women is a family tradition.” Even through the electronic crackle of the speaker phone, Dolores’ voice drifts like smoke. “Sunshine?” She addresses Ange with her childhood nickname. 

“Yes, mama?”

“It would destroy me if you hurt yourself.”

Ange visibly flinches.

“Are you safe, my love?” Dolores continues. Ange takes a shuddering and composing breath.

“Yes, Mama.” Ange says, noticeably guilty. Ann squeezes Ange's head against her side.

“Good.” Then, Dolores delivers her verdict like a final blow. “No laboratory time for the next week.” Even Kim winces with sympathy.

“WHAT-” Ange almost jumps to her feet. Only discipline and Ann's hand keeps her kneeling. “That's not fair! I’ve got so much to build this week. I'll be so behind schedule.”

“It can wait. You will use this time to reflect on your actions.” Though Ange can't see her, she can hear the edge of steel in Dolores’ voice. “Promise me.” 

“... Okay, Mama. I promise.” 

“Excellent." Dolores sounds pleased. "James, sweetheart, pass the phone to Kim.” Kim visibly perks up. She's on her feet and by James’ side in a second. Dolores was in a similar line of work as her, except Dolores had more experience. As cagey as she was with what exactly it is she did - Bad shit to bad people. I will not elaborate. - it was always nice for Kim to be able to talk to Dolores about her own adventures.

Ange stares with her biggest, wettest, puppy dog look as Kim takes Dolores off speaker and disappears up the stairs to their room. The hand resting on her head slides down to clutch her cheek. Light blue eyes meets dark blue. Ann leans down to kiss her forehead. 

“Liking girls doesn't mean I'll ever stop loving you.” 

Ange throws her arms around her mom's waist and squeezes as tight as a vice.

--- 

The bags are heavy under Ange's eyes as she makes her way into Middleton High. Last night, she could feel the edits to her genome starting to affect her. She had eaten three plates of her mom’s brainloaf. An ache in her bones kept her awake all night. She couldn't even pass the time in the basement over her machines, so she'd spent it staring at the ceiling.

The changes in her strength meant she would have to add twelve more grams of protein to her diet every day. Ange chews on a protein bar as she watches Kim walk down the hall to her locker.

She had programmed her DNA to take an entire year to grow six inches - an incredible growth rate that required fifty percent more nutrients than she was currently consuming. 

Kim is humming a tune. She has a date with Josh tonight. At least one of them is happy.

No one is at her locker, so she grabs her book and waits at Donavan's. Ange rests her head against the cool locker door. Students pass her by in groups. She closes her eyes, not feeling up for people watching today.

“Who are you going with?” Ange hears a girl say a few lockers down. She could not turn off her ears, unfortunately.

“I don't know… No one has asked me yet.” Another one sighs. They're talking about the dance. “How about you?”

“No. I hear Penelope doesn't have a date either.” Last year, Ange had spent all the school dances at the lab. That kind of stuff was more Kim's thing anyway. 

“I'll tell you what,” says the girl. “If none of us have dates by Wednesday, let's just all go together.”

Now that Ange was barred from the laboratory though…

“Deal.”

“Are you alright, Angelus?” Donavan's voice is a calming balm. She opens her eyes and smiles at him. Messy hair, thick glasses, pocket protector, and an oversized backpack. Donavan kept things consistent and it was definitely appreciated.

“I was just thinking.” She kicks off the wall. 

He regards her with a little smile and opens his locker. “What about?”

“What I should wear to the dance.” 

Donavan's arm pauses mid-movement. He blinks at Ange with an astonished look. “I thought you didn't enjoy those.” He finally says as he places his English literature book in his backpack. 

“I've never actually been to one, so I really don't know.” She shrugs. As a pair, they make their way to class. “Thought I'd give it a go this time. For science.” 

“For science.” Donavan looks vaguely amused. “Are…” He looks her up and down, “..you going with anyone?”

“I wish.” Ange ruefully smiles. “who'd wanna be seen with a loser like me?” That makes Donavan frown. Dryly, he raises an eyebrow at her. He doesn't even need to say anything before Ange starts chuckling. “Besides you! You know what I mean.”

“I'm not sure I do.” But he gives her enough grace to drop it. Ange can tell he's thinking about something as they approach the classroom door. Well, she couldn't blame him. Self depreciation wasn't exactly standard for her. 

“Angelus?” He calls out to her. Ange looks back at him as she steps into the classroom. He follows behind her, hesitant. “If you're-” 

Max Falcon is sitting at his desk, surrounded by his usual group of friends. A few girls Ange can't name, a few jocks like Keon, and surrounded by all of them, is Bonnie. The human eye is capable of processing color and shades of light and dark. What it was by far the best at detecting was movement. It is so superior in this regard that Ange's Shifu had told her, depending on her positioning, that it was better to freeze in place out in the open than to scramble for cover. Ange entering the classroom must have caught Bonnie's attention, because she looks up and their gazes meet.

Bonnie stares at her for a few seconds. Then she rolls her eyes and turns away. Ange continues to the desk she shares besides Donavan with only a small misstep.

“Sorry, I didn't catch that. Did you want to ask me something?” She says as Donavan sits beside her. He looks around at all the people in the classroom.

“It's nothing."

Chapter Text

Brick Flagg is a mountain of a man. Sturdy, immovable muscle and an arm that must have been blessed by the football gods themselves. He is destined for the big leagues, and most importantly, is definitely going to be the next quarterback for the Middleton maddogs.

It is exactly why Bonnie had chosen to sit next to him in the one class they share. His status is rising every day. Having him on her arm would only help her in the long run.

He is also dumber than dirt. But she could ignore that.

She is dwarfed by him, even sitting. It is a benefit right now. It means she doesn't have to look at Ange, who only sits one desk away from her. This morning, Bonnie had come to school determined not to care about her - because she really doesn't care about Ange. She's succeeded, too.

Ignoring her is a breeze. Ange keeps her hair messy, wears clothes that have never even seen a season, and has dirt under her fingernails - a worrying amount of scrapes, too. That isn't Bonnie's problem now, is it? Ange is, in summary, the easiest kind of person to ignore. Bonnie's eyes just float over her like she's part of the landscape. Maybe a lamppost.

Or a trash can.

So, Bonnie had come to school and pretended Ange didn't exist. When their eyes met in their shared morning English literature class, she was sure to look away first. It saved her from analyzing the bags under Ange's eyes.

Bonnie is succeeding in ignoring her now, too. She's too focused on Mrs. Tomic's fascinatingly boring lecture. The information is just flowing into her… and out the other ear. She chews at her lip in frustration. It was numbers, right? They were supposed to be easy. Numbers were logical. Yet, no matter how hard she tries, Bonnie doesn't understand the rules. She only memorizes them. It is absolutely infuriating.

Chemistry was sort of like physics, says an unbidden memory. Not even experts really understand it.

Her pen creaks under her grip. As she pushes the memory away, another one takes its place.

Ange had looked so tired this morning.

It doesn't matter. Mrs. Tomic references a chapter in the textbook. Bonnie puts her pen to the page and furiously starts calculating. If Ange gets all twisted because Bonnie isn't going to be her friend, that was her ish. And a pathetic one, at that.

At least there wasn't cheerleading practice until tomorrow. Bonnie just knew Kim was going to freak on her about this. 

Let her. It isn't Bonnie’s fault Ange is losing sleep over her. 

A deep breath resets her. Okay, clearly chemistry is an awful thing to try and focus on right now. Bonnie pulls out a new sheet of paper. She would plan for Regionals at Wannaweep. An activity that was actually fun.

Her pen strokes start gliding across the page. Liz, Crystal, Marcella, and Jessica would be best at opening for them. They knew how to work a crowd. She would give the best tumbling moves to Hope and Tara. 

As (vice) head cheerleader, it's her job to make sure everyone on the team has the time to shine. That meant the harder stunts and jumping would go to Kim and herself. As much as she hates to admit it, they shared the title for a reason. They are solidly the two best cheerleaders on the team. 

She stares down at her paper in satisfaction. Assigning specific moves would be something to work on later.

Rustling next to her brings her out of her thoughts. Just like that, class has ended and students are leaving. All the better-

Bonnie looks up from her desk just in time to see Ange walk by, rumpled clothes and all. No doubt she's on her way to - Bonnie shudders - matheletes. There's a slump in her shoulders Bonnie hadn't seen the entire week they worked on their polymer. When Ange turns to leave the room, Bonnie glimpses her tired, beautiful profile. 

Bonnie looks back down at her paper. Ange isn't her responsibility.

Whatever is going on isn't her fault.

---

It's the end of their matheletes session and Donavan hasn't stopped acting off since this morning. He's good at hiding it. Naturally reserved, a little shy, Donavan always came off as hard to read and more than a little weird to anyone he met.

But he isn't supposed to be like that with her.

Ange packs up her notes, staring at him thoughtfully. She knows he feels her gaze drilling a hole into his back because he starts fidgeting. He only plays with the strap of his backpack like that when he's nervous. At least some things never change. Donavan waits for her to finish packing up so they can leave together.

“Do you think Upperton has a chance?” Ange starts, as they leave the trigonometry classroom that has been lent to them.

“Please,” Donavan smirks a little, and Ange lets herself relax. “We will crush them under our cold, uncaring boots.” Saturday morning, an hour after sunrise, would be the first head to head of the season. Ange giggles.

“May they beg for mercy.” She says, eliciting an actual evil chuckle from Donavan. This late in the day means that the hallways were empty. Even with a companion, the school felt liminal. Their footsteps echo. Using the corner of her eye, she observes him. He's got that brooding, stormy look on his face that he only gets when he's thinking hard. Ange turns her body to face him fully, leaning in closer.

She stays like that as they walk down the hallways until he finally notices her.

Donavan looks up to see big blue eyes staring into his very soul. “Wha-” He startles, feet tangling over his own legs. Ange yanks him steady by the handle of his backpack before he can learn what the floor tastes like. “A-Angelus! Don't do that.”

Her giggles answer him. “Sorry, you looked so serious.” Ange lets him go and places her hands behind her back in an attempt to look more innocent. “Is something the matter?” 

“Oh,” Sometimes, Ange was so observant it was scary. Or maybe he was just obvious. “I…” Donavan wonders how to say this, before deciding on something else. “You've been acting strange lately.” Ange's eyes widen. “Did something happen?”

What a nice boy. Ange takes a moment to be thankful he's her friend. “...Ha…” She also wonders what to say first. The simplest thing to explain and she'd go from there. “Well… Bonnie and I aren't really friends anymore.” Ange drops her voice. “If we ever were.” It is pathetic. All this time spent trying to accept what had happened and some part of her still misses Bonnie. Why did Mrs. Tomic decide to partner them together? When Bonnie wasn't so… Bonnie, they'd even gotten along! Why couldn't Ange forget that?

“Good.” Donavan's voice almost makes Ange trip this time. She focuses all of her attention on him and is startled to find him glaring at the floor. “She is absolutely awful to you, Angelus.” He's a gentleman, so he opens the large double doors leading outside. “You weren't acting like yourself last week.” Ange raises an eyebrow at him, giving Donavan the benefit of the doubt before she decides to chew his head off. “You couldn't focus!” He clarifies. “I don't know what horrible things Ms. Rockwaller might have said or did, but you were somewhere else, Angelus.”

It's hard for her to swallow. Why did Ange still want to defend her?

“So, I guess it's nice to have you back again?” Donavan finishes timidly. A nervous smile stretches across his ruddy cheeks. “Even if you still look, uh…. Really tired.” 

“It's fine with me, but in general don't comment on a lady’s appearance.” Ange points out dryly. It is a good cover as she tries to wrestle with these overwhelming feelings clawing on the inside of her ribcage. Donavan notes it down. Girls mystified him, even his best friend. He walks her all the way to her bike. Since Ange was forbidden from the lab, she was going to spend more time around the city.  “Hey, Donavan?” She swings a leg over her bike and regards him. 

He watches her behind his thick glasses. Ange sighs. She’s a coward. And she is definitely not ready for that conversation. “I'll see you tomorrow.” She finally says. He returns her goodbye and watches Ange pedal away. For some reason, it feels like something more than Ange was leaving with her.

Chapter Text

“And then he went in for a kiss and I sneezed on him!” 

Kim and Ange are sitting on the bottom bunk in their attic room. Ange has a sympathetic hand on Kim's shoulder. Kim is curled up against the wall, staring up at the ceiling like it holds the answers to her ferociously awful date with Josh Mankey. How could she wrestle a shark with her bare hands and win… and fail so spectacularly at dating a boy.

“Look at the bright side.” Ange says, trying to be helpful. The glare Kim shoots her suggests maybe it isn't. Ange grins, trying to placate her dangerous sister. She couldn't escape Kim's holds no matter how hard she tried. “He's still your date to the dance, right?” Kim nods, but it's like looking at a kicked puppy going through the motions. Ange coos, giving in to her urge to pull Kim onto her lap. “So, even though you totally embarrassed yourself and will probably remember those moments every time you go to sleep,”

Kim is closer now. When she glares, it's eye to eye. Ange suspects Kim is glaring at her like she is one of Kim’s villains because it's actually kind of scary. 

“He must really like you!” Ange finishes quickly. To her great relief, Kim softens. More like flops boneless-ly onto Ange with a groan. 

“At least there's that.” Kim admits. It was kind of sweet, if she looked past her mind numbing embarrassment. “Thanks, Angie.” Kim props her chin atop Ange's shoulder. She was totally not going to be able to look past her embarrassment for like, ten years. 

She feels Ange take an extra long exhale against her. “...” Green eyes narrow. “You can laugh now.” 

Ange falls backwards and starts cackling. “A whoopie cushion?!” Kim is able to make out between breaths. “A-and, you covered him in ketchup!” Ange starts hiccuping. Tears form at the corners of her eyes. Her cheeks start hurting. Kim gives her a deadpan stare.

“...yeah.” Kim feels her lips twitch. She holds it in until Ange lets out a particularly loud wheeze that dissolves into coughs. “It is pretty funny.” Kim giggles, though it's more at Ange than her own expense. 

After a few more minutes, when their sides hurt too much, they finally calm down. 

“I know what can take your mind off this.” Ange announces. Kim has her head propped against Ange's stomach now, and she turns it towards her sister inquisitively. It would have to be something big to be able to distract her. “I've never shopped for a dress before.” 

Kim physically perks up.

“Mind helping me pick something out?”

“You're going to the dance Friday!?” Kim squeals. When Ange nods, Kim grips both of her shoulders and starts shaking her. “Oh my god, you hate those! This is spankin! Do you have a date?” Ange is too focused on surviving Kim to reply to Kim. Kim checks the time on her Kimmunicator. “Club Banana closes in an hour and a half. We gotta go now before all the good dresses are gone!”

Kim flips off the bed and onto her feet in one graceful motion. Like a general leading men into battle, she starts downstairs. “Let's go, go, go! Hurry up, slowpoke!”

Just like that, she's gone. Ange stares at the stairway apprehensively. Did she…. Bite off more than she can chew?

---

Club Banana is a gladiatorial arena. 

Teenage girls fill up the square footage, clawing and scraping and biting over every inch of fabric available. Ange swears she sees two girls playing tug of war for a dress. One of them falls to the ground. The other climbs up on a rack, double taps her elbow, and drops on the loser. Ange winces at the agony. Yet it is only one of the many horrors that the walls of Club Banana would be bearing witness to this night.

Ange watches all of this from the entrance of the store with wide eyes. Fear cools her blood. Besides her, Kim takes a deep, relaxing breath and smiles.

“God, I love this place.”

Before Ange even has time to gape at Kim, Kim grabs her hand and marches them right into the fray.

---

Ange arrives to school a broken woman. 

Up until now, Ange had assumed only Kim was capable of such ferocity. But last night… folly, oh the folly. Never again would she come between a girl and her dress. And she definitely was NOT going to be shopping with Kim until it was the next off season. The nightmares Ange had last night had woken her up early. Since she couldn't tinker in the lab until next Monday, Ange had fixed up breakfast for her, Kim, and the tweebs and then she'd walked to school.

There is no one in the halls. Except, without Donavan by her side, it feels especially eerie.

Thankfully, Ange knows of a wonderfully magical place to escape this environment. She navigates a familiar route until she's in front of familiar doors. Some life returns to her eyes as she pushes through into the library. They drift closed and she inhales, enjoying the pleasantly gentle scent of paper, florals and spice.

Blue eyes snap wide open.

Sitting at a large desk facing the entrance is Bonnie. She's staring at Ange like she's stupid. For once, Ange feels like she is, too. Her face smooths into composure. 

Ange doesn't want to show Bonnie weakness. She knows what Bonnie will do with it.

Turning on her heel, Ange presses her hand to the door handle. The door barely clicks open when a voice stops her.

“Possible.” Bonnie is excellent at masking her emotions. Her tone of voice is neutrally annoyed. That, or she really doesn't care about Ange at all. It sends a pang through Ange’s chest that Ange hates herself for. She gazes at Bonnie from over her shoulder, waiting for the girl to continue. “Did you seriously quit the track and field team?”

That raises an eyebrow on Ange's face. So Bonnie had heard of that. “Do you care?” She says, turning fully towards Bonnie now.

Bonnie scoffs. “As if.” She turns a page in her notebook. Likely homework, if the mathematics textbook is any indication. “I know it's, like, a loser sport.  But it's still better than no sport.” Bonnie starts writing in her beautiful handwriting. “I guess I was just surprised that you could fall further down the social ladder.”

“I'm full of surprises.” Ange quips back. She's too tired to put any heat into it. “And I did quit the team, if you're really that curious.” 

She feels Bonnie's eyes staring at her from under Bonnie's long lashes. “Why?” Bonnie demands from her. Ange purses her lips, thinking of where she wants to take this conversation.

“...Some personal reasons.” She was definitely too tired for a confrontation.

“They must be pretty serious. You look awful.” Bonnie isn't, apparently.

“Thanks, Bonnie." Ange sighs in defeat. "You look stunning as always.” Oops, she hadn't meant to say the last part out loud. “It’s only because I made the mistake of going into Club Banana last night.” At least Ange found a good outfit, though it wasn't what Kim or Ange originally intended.

To her credit, Bonnie actually winces in sympathy. “You should buy a dress two weeks out, next time.” 

“I'll keep that in mind.” What to make of this. Having an even somewhat civil conversation with Bonnie at seven forty five in the morning wasn't a scenario Ange had seen coming. Not after Monday. Anything is possible for a Possible, she supposes. “If I ever feel like going to another dance.”

Bonnie smirks at her. “It really doesn't feel like your scene.”

Ange answers her with a snort. “Glad to know I'll be missed.” The sounds of other students starting to fill the hallways filters in from behind Ange. This sitch is too confusing for her to deal with right now. Ange didn't want to think about why they couldn't be friends, but trading barbs was acceptable. She leans against the door until it opens. She misses the way Bonnie's face falls. “Bye, Rockwaller.” 

Ange slips out of the library and misses the way Bonnie lets her head fall onto her desk with a thump.

Chapter Text

sweat drips down Ange's face. She takes deep, controlled breaths and tries not to think about how much her arms and legs hurt. Her shifu circles her as slowly and methodically as a lion might circle an antelope with a broken limb. It's Thursday afternoon and Ange has been holding horse stance for an hour and fourteen minutes. Her shifu steps in front of her, moving with an almost supernatural grace. Eyes as bright as the setting sun at golden hour analyze her.

Her shifu reaches over and adjusts one of the teacups balanced on Ange's wrist. The jasmine has long since cooled. Ange hasn't spilled a single drop - much better than her first attempt.

“Do you want to learn yet?” Her shifu says. She's a tall, intimidating stick of a woman. Not once had she offered her name to Ange. It wasn't important to her training. So Ange called her Shifu, which she does now.

“No, Shifu.” Ange replies, as disciplined as a soldier. Staring straight ahead, she can see the way Shifu's back tenses in frustration.

“I don't understand it.” Shifu runs a big hand through her long, straight hair. “Don't you want to protect those close to you?”

If there wasn't a wood block on top of Ange's head and a teapot on top of that, she would have nodded. Instead, Ange says, “Yes, Shifu.” Ange hears the woman click her tongue and has to smother a smile.

“Then let me teach you more than stealth.” Shifu’s voice crackles with frustration. “Why don't you want to fight?!”

A drop of sweat breaches Ange's jawline and slides down her neck. With her best and widest puppy dog eyes, she blinks innocently up at the older woman.

“It's really scary.”

Her Shifu facepalms.

----

Bonnie slams the door in Lonnie's stupid ugly face. It's the only way she can stop herself from mauling her stupid, way older sister. From behind the door, she can hear Lonnie’s voice. 

“Say whatever you want, Bon-Bon.” This entire situation was stupid. It was a fight over the remote! A stupid, innocuous remote and who got to watch what. But all their fights start over small, unimportant things. “It isn't going to change the fact that you're a fucking accident.” Unbidden, tears spring to her eyes.

She doesn't let them fall.

Her mom loved all of them more than life itself, but that didn't mean Lonnie was wrong. She wasn't stupid. Bonnie could put the pieces together even if it hadn't been pointed out to her. She was definitely a a huge, miserable accident. Maybe that's why her mom always refused to pick a side 

Why couldn't she pick her?

Lonnie must get bored, because Bonnie can hear her walk away through the door. She deflates, sliding down the wood until she's a pile on the floor. This Thursday sucked. No, this entire week was just one huge pile of suck. From her idiot sisters to homework she didn't understand, Monday onward was all awful.

Stop avoiding it, Bonnibel. Some traitorous part of her reminds. You are the cause of all of your problems.

Bonnie swallows thickly. Ange hadn't spoken to her since their chance encounter in the library yesterday morning. Bonnie couldn't even blame Ange. She was the reason Ange avoided her. Bonnie's inability to keep her mouth shut - to not be a massive bitch, really, was the cause of all her problems. 

A shuddering, choking breath escapes her. Still, she doesn't let the tears fall.

It's not like she couldn't be nice. The reason she was at the top of the ladder is because she could be nice. But every time she was, it was her putting on another skin. Deep down, in a place she couldn't hide from, Bonnie knew she was just a miserable fucking accident.

That's not how people who love each other speak to one another. Ange says to her from a m emory . Bonnie shoves her face against her knees to muffle her sobs.

Why couldn't anyone pick her?

---

If last Friday was chaos, this one is pandemonium. Ange can sense it even before she enters the school doors.

Music thumps on the speakers, students run down the halls with streamers, glitter, everything that's needed for a shindig of epic proportion. Ange is pretty sure she'd heard Ron describe it like that. Even some of the teachers wandering the halls have adopted the school spirit. Ange sees more than one purple sparkly ornament as she walks to her locker.

Donavan is waiting for her already. He presses himself into the lockers, trying his best not to get run over by the groups of excited, roving students. The poor boy drips anxiety. Ange gives him her best smile as she opens her locker door.

“P-pleasant morning, Angelus.” He looks away from her quickly to dodge an untied, overfilled balloon. It whizzes by in a loud shriek. Ange watches it shoot down the hall in amusement. Today was going to be insane.

“Good morning, Donavan.” She grabs her book and shoves it in her pack. “Happy Friday! Let's hope we make it to the weekend in one piece.” 

“Yes, happy friday.” He mutters.

Ange turns to lead them to class. Quickly, he reaches out and grasps her wrist before she can make the first step. Ange looks at him curiously. “I was- would it be possible to discuss that?” He says, voice cracking.

“Well, of course, Donavan.” Ange leans on the wall. It would give her a chance to finish up her protein bar. She was ravenous. “What's the sitch?” She asks, trying to figure out what that could be while simultaneously fishing her snack from her sweatpants pocket.

It takes a moment for the boy to gather his thoughts. “Well,” he adjusts his thick glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I was wondering what times you would be at the dance.” Ange's hands, which had been folding back the wrapper on her bar, freeze in place. Donavan sees this and shakes his hand. “I'm just worried about the meet on Saturday.” He clarifies. “It's very early. You're brilliant, Angelus, but I would still like you to be in top form.”

“Ooh.” Angelus grins toothily. “Don't worry. I'll be there from eight to ten at the latest.” She rips off a little piece of her snack. “I definitely plan on kicking mathematical butt tomorrow morning.” Ange pops it into her mouth, chewing happily. Food tastes way better when she's hungry.

Donavan smiles at the quip. “Then I have nothing to worry about.” 

The pair head to English. Ange spares Bonnie a brief glance, who is draped over one of the girls in a casual embrace. She's braiding Bonnie's hair. And Bonnie... looks perfect, as usual. Ange heads to her desk so she doesn't end up staring. Being distracted by beauty, even on someone who probably hates her, is absolutely infuriating. Surely she was more than her impulses. 

She doesn't see Bonnie look back at her.

Chapter Text

Kim paces the entire length of their room. Her flaming hair is pulled into a cute ponytail, her makeup is impeccably applied, and a purple dress is clinging to her curves. Kim was the very picture of beauty. Even more so in motion. Kim moved through space like a song through time. Years and years of training combined with naturally unnatural reflexes came together as elegant, smooth movements. 

“Stop worrying.” Ange says, lounging on Kim's bottom bunk. She's watching her older sister (by five minutes!) wear a line into their carpet. “Or you're going to make me worry.” 

“Sorry!” Kim stops in place. Instead, she makes wide nervous gestures with her arms. “It's just- what if he doesn't come. Or a heel snaps. O-or my hair looks ugly. Be honest, do I look ugly?” Ange smiles fondly.

If she wasn't looking at Ange with such worry, Ange would start laughing at her. “Kim.” She gets up from the bed and towards her sister. Ange clutches Kim's jaw gently in a hand and tilts Kim's head from side to side. She appraises Kim so carefully because she knows this is the only way Kim will believe her. “You are just about the most beautiful person I've ever seen in my life.” To her delight, Kim's face colors ever so slightly. Ange decides not to tell her that she thinks Bonnie is just as beautiful, but in a different way. It wouldn't go down well. 

She likes girls so much it makes her look stupid, Ange correctly concludes.

Kim gives Ange a radiant smile. “You think so?” Ange's nod is all the answer she needs. Kim leans up and kisses her cheek. “Thanks, Angie.” Kim says sweetly. On a backstep, she takes a moment to give Ange a once over. “You clean up nicely yourself.” Ange's hair falls around her shoulders in tidy copper waves. The contrast makes her eyes a deeper blue.

Ange adjusts her collar with a smirk. “Oh, I know.”

“Kimmie-cub.” Their fathers voice calls from down the stairs. Kim and Ange share another look. They both know what it means. Ange fusses over Kim one last time, making sure her hair is perfect and her dress is wrinkle free. 

“Knock ‘em dead.” Ange says with the gravity of someone giving away their daughter at the alter. Kim takes a deep breath, nods, and then scampers down stairs.

Mankey's voice filters through the floorboards. Ange can hear her mom cooing at Kim. She can hear James stern tone, too. No doubt telling Josh which exact black hole James would send him into if he hurt Kim. From the sound of it, Mankey takes the threat in stride. That guy is just plainly cool. 

To let Kim have her moment, Ange waits until she hears Mankey's car drive off before she heads downstairs. She walks into her parents' eager gazes. A flash signals the start of Ann's photo session. James looks at her with pride. 

She feels warm.

“Are you going to be okay getting there?” Ann asks. She's typing on her phone, likely sending her photos to mama. Ange rocks back and forth in her oxfords. 

“Don't worry about it mom. I'm taking the bike.” Ann still looks worried, but she wouldn't be Ann if she wasn't. In Ange's pocket, her phone buzzes. A text from her mama. Nice. is all it says, and it brings out an ear to ear grin.

James drops a big hand on her shoulder. “Now Angie, you should know to always bring a condom or two. If you're going to be spending the night with any girls, let us know.” Ange blinks at him. James blinks back. At least James believes in her enough to use the plural form of girl. 

“I think you're giving me the talk you're saving for the Tweebs, dad.” James nods thoughtfully. He definitely mixed up the talks.

“In that case, as long as you're mindful of STI's, sleep with as many girls as-” James is thankfully silenced by Ann's hand over his mouth. Ange gives her a grateful smile, willing her cheeks to cool down.

“What he means to say,” Ann shoots a fond glare at her husband. “Is to not do anything stupid. And to have fun, Angie.”

“Don't worry, mom.” Ange hugs both of them. “Tonight's gonna be spankin.”

---

For the first time since middle school, Ange steps into the throes of a party. It actually looks like a good one, too. A group of pretty girls scamper in front of her, giggling. Ange lets her eyes follow them. A great party, even. On complete impulse, she decides to see where they're going. She continues to watch the undulating masses on the dance floor from the corner of her eye.

Bass shakes the floor. The entire gymnasium is covered in purple and red lights. A disco ball shoots glitter over every single surface - tiny specks of starlight.

Not that she would know, but the entire atmosphere seems to be going for a dance club vibe. On the floor are couples getting there, uh, boogie on. Ange makes a mental note to ignore her father's slang. In the middle of the crowd, she spots Kim and Josh dancing with bright smiles. Ange grins.

The girls take her to a table full of snacks and a big bowl of punch. Someone had dropped a giant cube of dry ice in it. The mist that coils around the floor underneath it only adds to the atmosphere. 

Ange fills up a solo cup and a plate.

First, she'd eat. Then, she'd dance. Maybe, she could find a nice girl to talk to. 

As Ange makes her way to the outskirts of the crowd, she finds another familiar face. “Hi Ron.” She breaks into a smile as he double takes. 

“Ange? Woah, I didn't know you were coming!” Ange is kind enough to offer a snack from her plate. Ron takes her entire set of crackers in one fistful. When Rufus pops his head out of his breast pocket and Ron drops him a treat, Ange decides to forgive him. Ron shoves the rest in his mouth, looking her up and down slowly. Ange lets him, watching over the lip of her cup as she takes her first sip of punch. To her amusement, his face twists in pain. “This is so not fair,” Ron whines through a full mouth. “Why do you look better in a suit than I do?”

Her three piece suit is all black. Black button up, black vest, and a black jacket. Ange is like a shade, only broken up by a splash of red from her tie and the handkerchief she'd folded into her front pocket. Not to brag - well, maybe she would brag this once, but she looks positively eye-catching.

Her clever gaze catches more than one person glancing her way. Some of them are even girls.

“Well, Ron, a good tailor goes a long way.” Ange had spent an entire evening getting the outfit fitted perfectly. Money well spent, in her opinion. “And.. uh, to not wear a suit that was provided by your grandmother.” 

Ron slumps in his baby blue, with too many ruffles, suit. “Next dance, please help me.” He begs at her. With his big eyes and adorable freckles, he looks kind of cute. “I can't get any honeys looking like this!”

Ange snorts. That was a funny way to call women. But… “If it keeps me out of Club Banana, you got yourself a deal.” Ron gives her a relieved fist bump. 

“Boo-yah.” He says, stretching out the syllables. Ange rolls her eyes, continuing her surveying of the room. Monique managed to snag a date. Ange sees her in the arms of a real hunk of a man. Good for her. Kim and Josh are circling each other. Ange can just make out the movement of their lips.

She looks away, letting them have their moment

“So-” Ron coughs into a fist. “This is, like, totally platonical,” Ange side-eyes him. “But do you wanna dance with me?” She could admire his moxy, at the very least. Then she takes a moment to really look at him.

He's about an inch or two taller than her. Warm brown eyes, a nice goofy smile, she knows he's funny too. If she was into men, and he wasn't Kim's best friend, she might have considered it.

“I wouldn't want to give the girls the wrong idea.” Ange finally replies. “But maybe I can wingman if I'm not busy later.” Ron looks excited at the thought. Girls understood girls, he thinks, not realizing Ange barely understood them herself.

“Wait, does that mean you’re g-”

“Donavan?” Ange’s eyes widen at who she sees standing awkwardly on the other side of the room, right by the punch bowl. Without looking away, Ange places her plate in Ron's hands. Ron, surprised but always adaptable, takes it thankfully. “Sorry, Ron. I gotta go. Have a fun dance.” 

“Sure thing, boss.” He calls out, not looking up from his new snacks. “Boo-yah, Rufus. We didn't even have to wait in line!” 

Ange walks right into the crowd. She falls back onto the teachings of her Shifu and lets her intuition take over. Like sand filtering through a fist, Ange dodges the dancing students and their errant elbows to make her way to the other end of the gym. She's proud to say she only got bumped into once. Donavan is there, scanning the crowd with a solo cup in each hand. Most importantly, he doesn't see her. Ange smirks.

She slides around the snack table. Ange was getting better at moving without noise, not that it matters when the music pulses a heavy rabbit beat into the gym. When she finally walks up behind his back, Ange leans in a little. “Hi Donavan!” 

“AH!” Donavan jumps. Ange reaches over his shoulders and catches the cups of punch as he scrambles his landing. Donavan whirls towards her, still clutching his chest. “Angelus!” He yells helplessly. “Why!?”

A giggle is his only reply. Ange takes a drink from one of the cups, pushing the other into Donavan’s hand. Not knowing what yet to say, he starts draining it. Blue eyes narrow thoughtfully.

Why was her boy so nervous? Maybe the new environment. The noise was a little overwhelming.

“I didn't know you were coming.” Ange finally says over her empty cup. “You should have told me! We could have come together.” That makes Donavan swallow a little too hard and he starts to cough. 

No, not the environment then. Something to do with her.

Ange reaches over and pats his back. The gymnasium was getting really warm. All these bodies moving together was generating a lot of heat. Absentmindedly, Ange calculates how much heat could be generated from this many people. Donavan recovers.

“About that.” He says, rubbing at a stain he'd accidentally spilled on himself. Donavan was dressed very nicely. A classic suit with a pretty, blue corsage bouquet pinned to his lapel. A corsage that he then fiddles with.

Ange goes very still.

“I was actually hoping we could go together.” Donavan unpins the flowers. Details she's noticed the last few weeks start to fit into place like puzzle pieces. Details she had brushed off as nothing. With flaming cheeks and shaking hands, he offers it to her. Reverent. “A-as more than friends, I mean.” There's a hopeful little smile on his crooked lips. One that she knows she's about to kill. “Because.. I-I mean, I've been trying to work up the nerve all week. Then I f-figured, why not do it here. Angelus,”

A cold wind flows through Ange’s veins. She respects Donavan too much to interrupt him, but she doesn't want to hear what he's about to say. She knows what he's going to say.

“I really li-like you.” 

Ange swallows. Hard.

“...Donavan?” Her voice can barely be heard over the pop dance music. Maybe it's her tone, or maybe it's the forlorn surprise that's expressed on her face, but it's enough. She can see the way Donavan’s expression starts to break. “I… I’m so sorry-”

“It's okay!” Donavan yells. 

He looks as startled at the volume as Ange does. A few of the students glance at them. He must sense their gazes, because he starts looking around in mild panic. “I get it- you don't.” The panic grows. “You don't need to s-say it.” He pulls his hands back like they've been burned. “I just-” Are those tears in his eyes? Ange can't tell under the glittering light. “I need to go.” Donavan turns around and sprints out of the gymnasium, corsage crushed in one of his fists. 

Ange hates herself for not being able to follow him. She looks around and sees eyes on her, and she suddenly understands Donavan's panic.

Another lesson her Shifu taught her. Angelus falls into the shadows and disappears from sight.

Chapter Text

It's a mad dash. A desperate, primal need she can only express by the movement of her legs. By pounding her feet on linoleum, then concrete, then the familiar turf field she used to show up to three times a week. Anything to get away from the pounding music and piercing stares of her peers. Anything to get away from the memory of Donavan's breaking smile. 

Because the thing Ange had always, always, always been best at is running away.

She pants, each gasp choking up through the thickness in her throat. Was it sweat that ran down her face or were those tears? For once, Ange didn't know.

She felt numb, and more than a little dizzy.

Finally, she slows down to a walk. Ange had to gather herself. Keeping herself together was important. She was not about to have a breakdown on the night of the school dance. Eventually, Ange stops and rests her hands on her knees. The first step is always to breathe evenly. Feel air in your lungs, feel oxygen run through your blood and into your limbs. Clear your mind and focus only on sensation. 

Fall was just starting its full swing. The air nips cold on her skin. The night sky was dark, empty of moon and stars. Only the light pollution of the downtown area miles away had let Ange navigate here. The season's last crickets were singing their death knell. Next summer, their children would hatch from their eggs as orphans.

Ange furrows her brow. What else could she hear? She stands back up. Something rhythmic, but it wasn't music. Turning her head towards the noise all she sees is the school bleachers.

It takes her a moment, then her face flushes bright red. She turns on her heels and decides to find somewhere else to hide.

---

Bonnie arrives to the dance hanging off one of Brick's massive arms, fashionably late. He's in a black and white tux, she's in a little red dress, and together they make a beautiful pair. Which, like, was kind of the point. The party is in full swing when they walk through the doors. Decent, she concludes as she assesses the decorations. The song playing was actually kind of nice, too. 

When she looks at Brick, he's scanning the crowd with a dopey grin. There really was nothing going on behind that boy's eyes. 

“Hey, Bonnie.” He nods towards the punch. “Want anything to drink?” 

Bonnie considers this for a second. “Yes.” She withdraws her hand from Brick's arm. “Get me one of those antipasto skewers too.” 

“I didn't know they were serving noodles!” Brick jogs off with a laugh. Bonnie just stares blankly at his retreating figure. Absolutely nothing going on behind his eyes.

She goes back to what's important and starts picking people out of the crowd. There's Tara, dancing in Tyler's arms. Good, they were cute together. Jessica, Marcella, and Hope are passing the time with their favorite hobby. Bonnie can't see which poor boy they're teasing, but she would let it be. And, augh. Bonnie stops her eyes from rolling. Kim and Josh, dancing on the floor. Her eyes narrow when she notices an important detail. They aren't as close as they could be. She was totally going to drill Kim about that later.

Ange is distinctly absent, which is weird. Didn't she mention buying a dress at Club Banana? Not that Bonnie is looking particularly hard, of course. Ange wasn't even on her radar.

“Here you go, Bons!” A solo cup is shoved in front of her. Brick looks a little sad. “I couldn't find the pasta, sorry. I got you a banana, though.” Bonnie sighs.

“Don't call me that.” She takes her offerings, though. After a long sip from her cup, she finally relaxes. The familiar warmth of alcohol spreads through her body. Murphy isn't the best artist, but he's always reliable when it came to spiking the punch. 

“Woah, okay.” Brick chuckles sheepishly. “Then, uh,” he points at the dance floor, “wanna boogie?” 

Bonnie feels herself cringe before she can stop it. Did Brick get his slang from his parents or something? Still, she needed to be seen by more people. “Don't you dare step on my feet.” She takes Brick's massive hand and lets him lead her to the dance floor.

---

The roof of Middleton High was approximately forty feet above ground floor. Climbing onto it is a breeze. Ange muscles up the last ledge and rolls onto her back. The vast black sky watches her back. It makes the world wobble under her. She wonders which one will blink first.

How long had Donavan liked her? Ange grimaces. Why hadn't she noticed it? The gravel starts poking into her back at too sharp an angle. With a frustrated sigh, she sits up. The first one to blink is her.

“Next time, I'll win,” Ange pouts to the sky.

Her answer is a soft breeze.

This could have been avoided if she'd just told him about liking girls earlier. Yeah, Ange thinks, bitterly sarcastic. Then, Donavan could have spent who knows how long keeping his feelings to himself. It was better that he told her. Now it was all in the open. Ange hops to her feet with a frustrated growl.

What did it mean for their friendship? Her chest starts hurting at that thought, so Ange paces the length of the building. Could they still be friends? Would Donavan be able to look at her and not be reminded of how she ripped his heart apart. Ange sniffles.

Tonight was definitely not spankin’.

The thought brings a watery smile to Ange's lips. It was that or she would start crying, and she hates crying. Her mama never cries. Or maybe she does. It's not like Ange would know if Dolores did. She doesn’t stick around long enough for Ange to find out. Ange hops onto the ledge of the building and stares out at the city. The city her mama could only visit once or twice a year. Her job took her to far away places. 

We wander until we find a place to put down roots, Dolores had told her once. Could that really be true? Then why wasn't she here? Why couldn't Ange be enough for her to stay? 

Another sniffle. Even though she feels dizzy, she desperately starts walking along the ledge like a balance beam. Ange didn't fear heights anyway. She knew how to land on her feet.

Her blue eyes take the outline of distant buildings. All those lights represented a society brimming with people. How many people in her life stayed? Kim, the tweebs, two of three of her parents. Those didn't count, they had to stay (and even then, one still left). Not Donavan, apparently. Her eyes start to water. It wasn't fair to think about him like that. Not yet.

But.. that was it, wasn't it? That was her list. Not even enough people to fill up both hands. A drop falls onto her palm. Ange pretends it's rain, though none was forecast tonight. 

Ange turns her head back up to the night sky. This time she wouldn't blink.

---

The side exit to the gymnasium swings open and Bonnie steps into the empty hallway. She leans on the wall, feeling the thump of music against her back. She clutches a red solo cup against her chest. They had danced for fifteen minutes. Brick had tripped over her feet four times. The only reason Bonnie tolerated it is because she needed to make sure the school saw them together having a good time. Thankfully, Brick was easily distracted. All Bonnie had to do was point him in the direction of his football buddies and he was out of her hair. She was done with all of this now.

By god did she need some air. Bonnie takes a sip of her drink, more for the alcohol than the punch, and makes her way to a forgotten stairway.

She knew of two places on campus that were private. One was behind the bleachers, just out of the way enough that couples would sneak off and use it for a quickie. It was an unwritten rule to avoid the place otherwise. 

The other was completely private because it hadn’t been discovered yet. Or ever, if Bonnie has her way. 

Bonnie didn’t like going home. She spent a lot of time on campus avoiding home. Usually, studying. Once, she had gotten restless. Instead of going through exercises in the gym - she had been too tired for exercises - she had gone exploring. That’s how, tucked behind an ignorable maintenance hall she'd stumbled upon this stairway. Her heels click against the steps as she climbs. A familiar doorway greets her. This place is so remote the janitor doesn't even bother locking the door. Finally able to relax, Bonnie lazily pushes it open. 

Cool fall air brushes against her face. It brings a smile to her face. Bonnie steps onto the tallest roof of Middleton High with a pleased sigh. 

A forest view is to her right, too dark to enjoy right now. She turns to the left, towards the city lights and a skyline she’s seen hundreds of times since she’s discovered this place. Her blood turns to ice.

Someone is standing on the ledge.

Bonnie reacts without thinking. Her cup drops onto the gravel floor, forgotten. She’s already sprinting towards them. Only luck and a solid month practicing her high heel walk to perfection keep her upright. Desperately, she reaches out with both hands.

Maybe the sound of gravel crunching catches their attention, because they turn. In the casted light of the city, their eyes meet, turquoise and blue. 

The next second, Bonnie has her arms wrapped around Ange’s waist. Fueled with adrenaline strength she leans back and heaves Ange towards the safety of the roof.

Together, they fall backwards.

Half way down, Ange plants the ball of her foot against the edge of the ledge and flips their positioning. They both fall in a messy crash against the gravel floor, Bonnie on top of Ange. Bonnie’s eyes open wide in surprise. Her shaking hands plant themselves on Ange’s shoulders and she props herself up to meet equally surprised eyes.

A beat of silence, then-

“What the fuck are you doing, Possible!?” Bonnie lets her face twist in rage. It hides her fear. “I know your life is shitty, but you aren’t allowed to just waltz off a ledge and kill yourself!” Blue, puffy (has Ange been crying?) eyes stare dazedly at her, which just infuriates Bonnie even more. She grabs Ange by her tie and pulls their faces closer. “Don't you realize what that does to people?!” Her voice cracks. For once, Bonnie can’t find it in herself to care. “You selfish idiot! I thought you were smarter than that-”

Warm hands bracket her hips. Somehow, in the face of all of her yelling, Ange’s face has softened. Bonnie’s hands tremble with rage. She takes a breath to continue her onslaught when Ange finally speaks. “I wasn’t jumping, Bonnie. I was just enjoying the view.”

The fight in Bonnie stumbles. “W-what?” She drops Ange’s tie. It falls on Ange’s chest, wrinkled and red.

Underneath her, Ange puffs out her cheeks. “And- why do you even care, you liar!”

Bonnie gapes, reeling from one emotional extreme to the other. “What- Liar?!” True anger heats her voice. She props her knees against the gravel on either side of Ange’s hips so she can sit back properly. “Did you just call me a fucking liar!”

It doesn’t quell Ange. Instead, Ange glares up at her. It might have even been a little intimidating, but all of the sharpness was dulled by tears starting to form in Ange’s big blue eyes. “You totally are! You said you’d be mean to me in a fun way!”

What? Is all Bonnie can think. Her normally sharp mind goes completely blank, unsure how to process... Whatever was happening.

“Then you were mean to me in the mean way!” A big wet tear falls down Ange’s flushed cheeks. “And then! - And then! You said we wouldn’t go back to how it was, but you don’t want to be my friend!” Ange sniffles, glares again, and then hiccups. “Why don’t you want to be my friend?! We got along!” The dam breaks. Ange dissolves into tears underneath her.

Glossed lips hang open. It was another first. Bonnie felt completely out of her element.

“Why doesn’t anyone want to be my friend?” Ange’s quiet and broken voice calls out from underneath her. Bonnie snaps herself out of it to actually look at the girl. A flushed, tear streaked face. An actually pretty nice suit. Most importantly, dazed and unfocused eyes. Bonnie glances at the solo cup she’d dropped earlier.

“...Did you have any of the punch, Possible?”

She can feel Ange’s hands on her hips tighten with annoyance. “Yeah! So what!? It’s a free country.”

“Oh my god.” Bonnie laughs a little with disbelief. Ange gifts her with a look of betrayal. “Ange, there’s alcohol in that.” To her amusement, she gets to watch Ange’s face morph into something akin to shock. “You’re drunk.”

Chapter Text

Drunk?

She couldn’t be drunk! That would be bad. Her parents were totally going to ground her. A second time! Ange couldn’t live with two weeks of no lab time. This was awful - This was like, so the drama. 

“Oh noooooo.” Ange breathes more than she says. There’s a low chuckle above her.

Ange has no choice but to think her way out of this.

Being drunk does put into context some really important details. Like why the world feels dizzy. Or why she was particularly pensive this evening. Or why the filter between her mind and tongue was failing her.  “Bonnie?” Ange calls up to the girl on her lap. Gosh, Bonnie was so pretty it was distracting. This was probably the first time Ange has seen her wearing a dress. There's a choker tied around her neck that Ange finds particularly fascinating. She resists the urge to untie it using her teeth. Ange sees Bonnie quirk an eyebrow at her and realizes Bonnie is probably waiting for her to continue.

“Don’t tell Kim, please? Or my dad.. Or my mom!” 

Has she ever seen Bonnie smile like that? Maybe once at Tara, that one time in chemistry. Ange feels her fingertips go warm. That could be because she was still holding Bonnie in place by her hips. “I don’t know.” Bonnie drawls out. Ange squirms. “Asking me to keep secrets from your family is kind of evil, Angie.” A valid point. She would have to think a bit more.

Ange comes to a conclusion after a small pause. “Don’t care.” It gets Bonnie to huff out some more laughter. Good, that girl is seriously too serious. 

“Alright, Possible.” Slender fingers pick out the red handkerchief from her breast pocket and start wiping at her tears. Ange lets her eyes close to better enjoy the sensation. Was Bonnie being soft because she was inebriated? Ange feels a slight tremor against her cheek. Or was it because Ange had scared her just now? “I’ll keep your secret. Does that make you feel better?”

“Mhm.” Ange presses her cheek into Bonnie’s hand, then frowns when Bonnie pulls away. Ange opens her eyes back up in frustration. She’s greeted by the sight of Bonnie folding the cloth back up and tucking it back into her breast pocket. The movement brings a hint of florals and spice. Ange closes them again and lets Bonnie fuss. She’ll say something stupid if she keeps staring at Bonnie. She misses the pensive look Bonnie gives her.

“Do you really want to be my friend?” Was there.. Vulnerability in there, or was Ange just imagining it. “I was awful to you, Ange.” That tone was more familiar. Deadpan, because Bonnie is pointing out the obvious. 

A snort. Ange tilts her chin up stubbornly and demands, “Then make it up to me!” It’s the wrong thing to say. Immediately, Bonnie tenses above her. Ange feels Bonnie shift her weight to get up. Ange lets one blue eye slide open to assess her and finds a caged frown on perfect lips. 

That wont do at all.

Ange sits up to wrap her arms around Bonnie’s graceful torso. “I want hugs.” She clarifies. Bonnie freezes in place. It takes a second longer than Ange would like to restart her own brain. Never in a million years would she have thought Bonnie would let her get this close. Not without violence. “Like, a hundred hugs.” To her relief, Bonnie actually starts relaxing. “Maybe more.” 

Ange hears a sigh and hopes it’s a fond one. “Is that seriously all it takes?” Ange feels Bonnie rest her chin atop her own head. It elicits a hum of approval.

“Promise to be fun mean.” Ange adds. This time Bonnie huffs. That was definitely a fond huff, right? It’s hard to gauge Bonnie’s emotions with her head buried against Bonnie’s perfect shoulder. 

“Anything else?” 

“You smell nice.” Ange murmurs. This time she freezes. “...Forget I said that.” Bonnie’s torso vibrates in silent laughter.

“No.” 

Bonnie must be able to feel the way Ange pouts against her skin. She relents, just a little. “I can do the other two if it’s that important to you.”  

“But seriously, Possible,” In Ange’s lap, since she’s so hellbent on being clingy, Bonnie adjusts herself to a more comfortable position. Instead of straddling Ange, Bonnie folds her legs beneath her torso and lets Ange’s arms keep her upright. Unfortunately, it brings Ange’s face away from Bonnie’s shoulder. Fortunately, Ange can see her again. “I was a real bitch to you,” Bonnie ignores Ange’s whispered ‘language’ with an eyeroll. “And… I’m sorry about that.”

Ange smiles. Comfort and safety are a promise in that smile. “I forgive you.” Ange says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Bonnie rests her head against Ange’s shoulder and relaxes completely.

---

Kim is already in her room by the time Ange gets home, sitting on one of the two chairs by their shared desk. There’s a mirror propped up against the window that has Kim’s attention. Ange catches her just in time to see Kim pulling her hair out of her adorable ponytail. Ah well, their mom would probably have some photos mounted on the wall by Sunday. 

“Hey Angie,” Kim greets from over her shoulder with a smile. “Welcome back.” Ange crinkles her eyes at Kim the way a cat does to show affection.

“Did you have a good time with Josh?” Ange teases, expecting Kim’s cheeks to redden into a blush. Instead, Kim starts laughing. What did she say that was so funny?

“I did, actually.” Kim cards a hand through her red hair, straightening out any tangles. “We broke up!” Ange pauses mid step and focuses all of her attention onto her sister. Kim has always been worse at hiding her emotions. Only once Ange is satisfied that there isn’t anything hidden behind Kim’s smile does she tilt her head inquisitively. “Well, we don’t actually have much in common.” Kim continues. “And having a relationship just based off of, uhm, physical attraction isn’t sustainable.”

“...Did you go behind the bleachers?” Ange says, once she’s found the courage to ask. Thankfully, Kim just gives her a confused stare. 

“No? Why?” 

“Don’t worry about it.” She walks over and plants a kiss on Kim’s cheek. “I’m not sure if I should say sorry or congratulate you over Josh.” 

To her great amusement, Kim starts giggling at her through the mirror, light as bells. “A congratulations, please and thank you. I think I’m going to be able to be a lot smoother talking to the next person I get a crush on.” The look on Ange’s face makes Kim flick at her cheek. “I will! Seriously.” 

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Is all Ange says at that. Kim sticks her tongue out at Ange.

“What about you?” Kim turns in her seat to give Ange her full attention. Her forest green eyes can be just as focused as Ange’s. “Did you like your first ever dance?”

Ange sees Kim frown pensively at whatever flashes over her face. This time, though, Ange doesn’t want to hide it. She thinks about Donavan, his confession and how he ran from it. She thinks about how she ran from it too. “It was… kind of awful.” She thinks about Bonnie resting her head against her own shoulder. “I would be willing to do another.” Ange adds, to Kim’s bemusement. 

“You’re gonna have to elaborate on that.” Kim says, deadpan. It makes Ange chuckle wryly. Then, Kim suddenly notices another detail. She narrows her eyes at her sister suspiciously. 

“Hey, what happened to your coat?”

---

Bonnie closes the front door of her house with a quiet thud. Looking around, either no one is home or her sisters are asleep. Considering it was only midnight on a Friday, she was likely all alone. Good. She lets her guard drop on her way to her bedroom. In front of the mirror of her vanity, Bonnie wipes away her makeup. Surprisingly, even after all her concealer and primer have been stripped away, her skin still glows. She smiles at herself.

It feels real.

Before she takes off her dress and put on her pajamas, Bonnie makes sure to carefully hang a black suit jacket that’s one size too big up on her closet door.

Chapter Text

The matheletes meet against Upperton high is in a windowless room of the Middleton convention center at seven in the morning on the dot. Ange and Donavan wipe the floor with them. Each round brings a victory that drains a little of the light from their opponents. Ange can’t even bring herself to enjoy it. Donavan doesn’t look at her the entire time. When the pair exit as champions, Donavan slips down the hallway without a word. Ange freezes in place, unsure if she should go after him or give him space. 

By the time she comes to a conclusion, he’s gone.

She really was a coward.

Ange shoves her hands into her sweatpants pockets and meanders towards the exit. By now, they should have been tucked away in some breakfast diner eating pancakes with too much syrup. Instead, Ange was in a depressing, empty hallway and her only companions were her thoughts. They were really horrible companions.  

Just then, the scraped up and abused rectangle of metal she calls a phone buzzes against her fist. She’d just gotten a text.

”Are you up, Possible?”

A grin involuntarily spreads on her face. Bonnie’s name blinks across the top of her grainy LED screen. Quickly, Ange presses her thumbs to the buttons on her phone.

”Good morning, Bonnie. Unfortunately, I am. How can I help you?”

”You type like my grandma.” Ange snickers. It wouldn’t be Bonnie if there wasn’t some snark. ”Meet me at the mall in an hour.” Or some demands. Ah well, Ange signed up for this.

”How could I say no. What do you want to do?”

”I’m going to teach you what popular girls do on the weekend,” is Bonnie’s final reply.

Ange stares at the message, feeling her heart do a pleasant flip in her chest. She places her phone back in her pocket. Then, she crouches low, only to jump high in the air. Her extended fist just barely brushes the ceiling.

“Yippieee!”

---

Nine in the morning on a Saturday at the Middleton mall was a tranquil affair. Most of the stores are open, but few people are about to enjoy them. Bonnie is sitting at an outdoor table in one of the cafes, sipping on something chocolatey and sweet when she spots Ange walking down the street. Bonnie clicks her tongue. Ange was wearing some old sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. The only thing remotely interesting about her outfit was the chunky red sneakers. Bonnie would have to change that if Ange was going to be seen around her.

To her mild surprise, after scanning the small crowd, Ange spots her as well. A sunny smile breaks out on her face that Bonnie refuses to let affect her. Not many people reacted like that specifically when they had to hang out with her.

Ange enters the cafe. After a five minute wait, she exits with two steaming to-go cups and settles in the chair beside Bonnie.

“Hi Bonnie,” Ange says, putting down a cup of tea. Bonnie watches in mild fascination when Ange tilts her head back and starts chugging the cup of... it smells like coffee, until there’s nothing left. She puts the empty container down with a grimace. “Sorry, I’m not really a morning person.” 

“Really.” Bonnie looks her up and down, deadpan. “I never would have guessed.” Compared to Ange’s awful outfit and messy hair, Bonnie was cleanly dressed in a simple black shirt and her favorite fitted white pants. Despite the sarcasm, Ange just gives her a lazy grin and a once over.

Bonnie lets her draw her own conclusions.

“Of course you would be, huh,” Ange says, pulling the bag of tea from her second cup. The tag says white jasmine with orange blossom. “Gimme a break this once, I was drunk last night.” That makes Bonnie raise an eyebrow. So they would be acknowledging last night, then. 

“Not a chance, Possible.” Bonnie lifts her chin haughtily, eyeing Ange over the bridge of her nose. “I don’t lower my standards for anyone. Besides, you want me to be mean to you.” To her satisfaction, Ange flusters. The blush on her cheeks can’t be hidden, even if Ange lets her hair fall in front of her face.

Ange takes a sip of her tea to recover. “...Only in the fun way,” she finally says, and Bonnie laughs her first laugh of the day. “So, you wanted to show me what popular girls do?” 

Good, Ange knew how to focus. Bonnie smirks her evilest smirk. “Oh yes. You’re going to need a lot of mentoring if you’re going to hang around me, Angie.” Bonnie points one of her slender fingers at the girl and waves it up and down. “But first, we need to fix all of… this.”

“You just gestured at all of me- oh.” Ange places a rueful chin onto a rueful palm. “Fine, I’ll play along for now.”

---

Ange fidgets besides her at the entrance of Club Banana. Bonnie does her best to ignore it but eventually she reaches over and flicks Ange on her shoulder. “It is not that bad.”

“I think I saw someone die here, Bonnie,” Ange says gravely. Bonnie rolls her turquoise eyes. What a drama queen.

“So what, people die every day. You’re not special.” Tired of the situation, Bonnie heads inside. As expected, Ange follows after her. Maybe this is what having a puppy was like. She glances back to see Ange hunched over and twitchy. Or like, a pet rabbit? Whatever. “Now, Angie,” Bonnie gestures to all of the racks, a sweet and sarcastic smile on her face. “Show me what you should grab first.” 

At least Ange realizes she’s being tested. After regarding Bonnie with narrowed eyes, Ange starts looking around until she spots a stack of neatly folded sweatpants. Bonnie smacks the back of her hand lightly before Ange can grab one. 

“I didn’t say show me what you grab first,” Bonnie says, her other hand on her hip. “I said show me what you should grab first.” 

Ange gives her an amused look. “Forgive me for the transgression,” she says, and Bonnie ignores the sarcasm in it. “How about this, then.” Ange walks over and picks up a pair of navy bowknot pencil pants. Not a bad choice. Bonnie leans on her back leg in surprise.

“Wow, Possible.” Bonnie grabs a sleeveless blouse and walks over. “I didn’t think you had it in you.” She holds the shirt against Ange’s torso. “Or maybe it was a lucky guess,” Bonnie says dryly.

“Hey.” Ange adopts an offended look she doesn’t mean. “I do have an eye for fashion, Rockwaller.” Still, she lets Bonnie grab another shirt and compare the two against her frame.

“Then why do you dress like a bum?” Bonnie sets the halter top down. The blouse would be better. 

“I spend most of my time in the lab.” The lab, again. This nerd really needed to get a life. Fortunately, Bonnie was kind enough to act as a guardian angel right now. “There’s chemicals, fire, and a lot of heavy machinery down there. There’s no point in wearing nice clothes.” 

Bonnie heads towards the changing room. When she throws an unamused look over her shoulder, she’s pleased to find Ange once again obediently following her. Bonnie could get used to it. “Let me rephrase, then.” Shoving the outfit against Ange’s chest, she nods at a changing room. “Why do you dress like a bum in public.”

“If I don’t have to change out of my clothes before heading to the lab, I get more time to experiment.” 

“Omg, Ange, you are such a dork,” Bonnie says. Spits out, really. Ange just smirks at her over one of the changing room doors. Bonnie can just see the hint of well defined shoulders as Ange pulls her ratty t-shirt off.

“And yet, you’re here hanging out with me, said dork,” Ange counters, rustling on her new clothes. “So what does that make you?”

“A good samaritan,” Bonnie says. She hears laughter from behind the door. It makes Bonnie grin. Finally, the door opens and Ange steps out in the bowknot pants she picked and the sleeveless blouse that Bonnie chose. A really good samaritan, apparently. Last night, Bonnie hadn’t had the chance to get a proper look at Ange. It was hard when Ange refused to let Bonnie get out of her lap. Ange had said something about her being too cute and small to let go, and the only reason Bonnie had let that go is because Ange had been drunk.

And right, technically.

Now that Ange was sober - and more obedient - Bonnie could actually give her a proper assessment. Very obedient, because when Bonnie makes a twirling motion with a finger, Ange does a slow turn around. Ange had some long legs, lovely hips, and a slim waist. Now that she wasn’t wearing a t-shirt that was too big for her, Bonnie could actually see some definition in her chest. Certainly, Ange was more gifted than Kim in that regard. Before she thinks better of it, Bonnie reaches over and grips one of Ange’s arms. 

“Huh.” Well balanced, slim, and dense muscles corded up Ange’s forearms and upper arms. She knew Ange worked out but the results were far better than expected. “Ange, if you ever wear a shitty t-shirt in front of me again I’ll kill you.” 

Bonnie sees Ange nod out of the corner of her eye. When she looks up, Ange has turned away. Through a part in Ange’s hair, Bonnie can see a bright red ear. Maybe she wasn’t used to being touched? “Noted,” Ange says. It sounds like she’s choking, though. 

Interesting. 

Chapter Text

“We just picked out a perfectly acceptable outfit, Possible!” Bonnie’s voice goes shrill. Somehow, Ange is able to ignore it as she browses through the racks of Club Banana. Folded over her arm are two sets of joggers in black and white. Her other arm is busy sifting through a row of hanging t-shirts. “You were just convincing me you had taste. Why do you have to ruin a good thing?” 

Ange sees a scowl of deep judgment on Bonnie’s pretty face when she finally looks up. It makes Ange smirk. It would definitely destroy their budding friendship if she said it out loud, but Ange thought Bonnie’s annoyed face was cute.

Or, she likes girls so much it makes her stupid. It’s probably the second option. 

“Don’t worry.” Ange pulls out a t-shirt to examine the printed design. “I am definitely planning to wear the beautiful Bonnie approved outfit to school sometime.” No, it was too loud for her. Instead, she pulls out a few plain shirts of varying colors. They would look good with the red bolero jacket she had hung up on her - really small - side of the closet she shared with Kim at home. “But, and I know you’ve noticed, it doesn’t go with my sneakers.” Ange needs something more sporty to match her - equally small - shoe collection.

“And what exactly is wrong with the beautiful Bonnie approved shoes I kindly, and graciously picked out for you?” Bonnie says, voice colored by impatience. “I don’t do this for just anyone, Angie.” The glare she sends Ange could strip paint. Ange stares at the navy blue pumps Bonnie had set aside for her.

“Heels scare me,” Ange admits with apprehension. Bonnie rolls her eyes.

“They’re one inch heels. Don’t be such a baby.” 

“And,” Ange says, continuing her thought. “I am truly grateful you’re going to such lengths for a pauper like me.” Arms finally full of clothes that probably wouldn’t make Bonnie throw up - her t-shirts would actually fit properly, for one - Ange starts towards the checkout counter. “But I’m kind of an active person.” Ange pointedly motions to the joggers she’d picked out. “So, I’m getting something that’s active, but looks good. You know, like a compromise. You do know what a compromise is, right?” When Bonnie’s nostrils flare Ange bites down on her tongue. 

She’s pretty sure if Bonnie sees her smile right now, Bonnie will take out one of her eyes. Or both - likely both.

Ange sets her armful of clothes and one pair of one inch pumps as neatly as she can onto the counter. Monique stares at Ange from behind it. Her brown eyes dart between the unlikely pair, mouth hanging open with shock. Bonnie finally notices the delay, and turns her glare towards Monique. 

“What is your ish? Start checking us out, please.” Bonnie says, crossing her arms. “Or are we going to have to wait until the next century?” Monique glares right back, but she does start scanning Ange’s clothes into the system. Ange makes a mental note to socialize Bonnie more.

“Girl, tell me if she’s got you at gunpoint, alright? I’ll get Kim on it stat.” Monique doesn’t stop staring Bonnie down as she speaks to Ange. Ange smiles graciously back.

“Thank you and good morning, Monique. I hope you’re having a lovely day.” It’s always best to lead by example.

“It was,” Monique says, dry as the Sahara. Bonnie rolls her eyes as hard as she can. Seriously, they were getting a workout. Before Bonnie can make what will certainly be a scathing retort, Ange is sure to interrupt her. 

“You know, Bonnie, if you’re nice to people who are on the job, they give you better service.” 

“They’re paid to give me good service anyway.” Bonnie points out the obvious. Ange and Monique share a glance of mutual understanding. If Ange was going to do this right then it was time to pull out the big guns.

“If you’re nicer to Monique, I’ll let you pick out my outfits for next week.”

Turquoise eyes regard Ange with deep suspicion. “I’m going to be at Wannaweep next week.”

“Oh, is that so?” Ange says lightly. As Monique finishes ringing her up, Ange pulls her wallet out to pay. “What a coincidence.” She sees the corner of Monique’s lip twitches upwards. Handling Bonnie like this was probably amusing for any bystander.

“I get to choose what you wear for four weeks,” Bonnie says, upping the stakes as punishment. “And you’re paying for our lunch later.” 

“Two weeks,” Ange counters, taking her bag that’s bursting with fashion. When she sees Bonnie bristle, she throws in another offer. “I’ll also let you put makeup on me.” It makes Bonnie stop short. Ange does her best not to shrink when Bonnie leans a little closer to stare at her face. Bonnie’s perfume teases her senses and she has to pretend her mouth hasn’t gone completely dry. Ange can see the curlers and mascaras and… Whatever else is associated with makeup dancing across Bonnie’s mind already.

“Deal,” Bonnie finally says. For some reason, Ange feels like she signed a death warrant. 

---

Bonnie walks out of the spa with long, relaxed strides. A full body seaweed wrap, a mani-pedi, and a facial scrub left her absolutely glowing. Behind her, Ange follows her more wound up than when she had entered. Ange stares at her baby soft hands with forlorn, wet eyes. Her callouses! Those monsters had filed off her callouses. They were going to take a week to form back up. At least her nails were pretty. Bonnie had picked out a dark ocean blue that would bring out her eyes. Bonnie’s words, not hers. 

Ange ignores the giddy feeling bubbling at the base of her throat. Just because Bonnie noticed her eye color doesn’t mean she should get excited. Ange notices Bonnie’s eye color, like, all the time.

“Can we eat now?” Ange says, trying to pull her train of thought off of those particular rails. Bonnie glances at her from over her shoulder. That train stays on its rails. “I’m starving.” She finishes, rubbing at her pitifully empty belly. Maybe altering her own genome wasn’t her brightest idea ever. Her hand rubs against the hard plain of developing abs. 

Nope, Ange didn’t regret it at all.

“As long as you’re still paying.” Bonnie reminds her. It was starting to approach noon and the mall had noticeably more people in it. If they waited too long, they would have to brave the lunch rush. Ange walks up next to her, wiggling her shoulders in excitement. Orange chicken! Spring rolls! Bonnie looks mildly embarrassed to be associated with her. Ange isn't sure if she imagines the hint of fondness too. It's probably wishful thinking.

In a deliberately casual movement, Ange drapes one of her hands over Bonnie’s shoulder and starts guiding them towards the food court. Bonnie freezes for a moment, then relaxes underneath her arm. Good, Bonnie doesn’t seem to be holding the fountain incident against her anymore.

“Duh, we have a deal, don’t we?” 

Turquoise eyes roll. Bonnie couldn’t figure out why Ange gave all her favors away for other people. In the middle of its roll, something catches her eye. Bonnie pauses mid step. 

Ange mirrors her instantaneously. She follows Bonnie’s line of sight from Bonnie’s lovely face towards a tucked away record shop. The Oh Boyz hadn’t dropped anything new in the last few days, nor was there anything from MC Honey that Ange had heard about. That was about the extent of Ange’s mainstream music knowledge, though. But she didn’t actually know what kind of music Bonnie preferred, did she? On the display window is a poster for a band she’s never heard of. A dark background with a burst of color on the lower right. 

Ange looks back at Bonnie thoughtfully. “Do you wanna go check it out?” Ange says.

“No, let's eat.” With her wrist hanging on Bonnie’s shoulder, Ange can feel how Bonnie tenses slightly. Should she press for details?

Before Ange can make a decision, her stomach lets out a deep, rumbling gurgle. Ange looks at her stomach with wide eyes. Bonnie looks at her stomach with wide eyes. Ange is pretty certain a few passerbys also look at her stomach with wide eyes. When Bonnie turns her astonished gaze up at Ange’s face, Ange can only give her a sheepish smile. 

“Please, and thank you.”

---

Half way through their meal, part of the cheer squad and several boys and girls Ange remembers seeing walking around the school pull up to their table. They must have finally woken up after sleeping in for the weekend. A much more reasonable option than the painfully early hour Ange had been forced to get up at. An hour that Bonnie got up at willingly, somehow. 

Bonnie’s posture goes from a relaxed, sort of lazy elegance to her usual haughty better-than-thou demeanor instantly. Even her smile seamlessly melts into a fox-like smirk. Ange watches the change in fascination.

Tara smiles at Ange, having taken the spot on Bonnie’s other side. Like she’s done it a million times, she rests her chin on Bonnie’s shoulder. Instead of speaking, Ange gives Tara a little nod back. Her mouth is full. Unlike Ron, she has excellent manners. 

“We missed you late Friday night, Bonnie.” Tara says, mouth bobbing on Bonnie’s shoulder. A chorus of agreement follows from the others. “Where’d you run off to?” Thankfully, Ange is still chewing. It helps hide the amused smirk growing on her face.

Bonnie shoots a withering look at Ange. “I had to do some last minute babysitting.” She finally says as she pokes at her grilled Teriyaki Chicken.

Tara lets out a disappointed little cluck. “That is such a bummer! Murphy ate shit doing a keg stand at the afterparty. You would have loved it.” 

“Language.” Ange murmurs impulsively, then stiffens. The entire group is looking at her. Bonnie palms her face. “Uh, but it sounds like the party got pretty crazy.” She says, trying to recover.

The smile Tara gives her is both pitying and sweet. “Not really. That’s just how those things go.” Where had Ange heard that before? 

Tara’s gaze turns into something curious. “I heard you had a fight with, uh, what’s his name? Dominic? At the dance last night. Is everything okay?” At the hint of drama, the rest of the group leans further in.  It’s a genuine question, Ange decides to conclude. Tara wasn’t mean in that kind of way. Besides Ange, Bonnie shifts to better watch her.

“His name is Donavan.” Even though they weren’t… talking right now - she hoped it was a ‘right now’ and not an ‘anymore’ - Ange still didn’t want to air their dirty laundry to the group. “We, uh.. Had a disagreement about math. Addition, division. Stuff like that.” 

“Do you have to be such a nerd all the time, Ange?” Bonnie snarks carefully, which makes the smile on Ange’s face a little more real. Ange shoots her a grateful glance before she gazes around at all the people assessing her. She assesses them right back. Amusement, suspicion, curiosity, uninterest. A whole rainbow of opinion. How nice. She should move this along before their judgements get too off the rails. 

“Then what does constitute a crazy party?” To her relief, one of the boys starts laughing.

“Oh man, remember when Max jumped from the roof into the pool at Lucas’? The one where we shaved that llama!” It draws out more laughter from the people around him. “Now that was a crazy party.” 

Ange lets the others pick up the conversation, only half listening. The steadily shrinking pile of chicken in her takeout carton was much more interesting. On her next bite, she looks up to find Bonnie still watching her. There’s a question on her face. But more interestingly, there’s calculation behind those turquoise eyes. Bonnie is looking at Ange like she’s figuring out how to best dissect her. It fills Ange’s chest with a warm rush of emotion.

After she swallows, Ange wipes her mouth with a neatly folded napkin and gives Bonnie a blue eyed wink. 

Chapter Text

A large bus idles in the Middleton High parking lot. It’s five in the morning on a Monday and the air is trying to decide if it should be brisk or chilly. A few of Bonnie's girls are standing around, blinking sleepily at nothing in particular. They were too tired to make conversation right now, which is just fine by her. Bonnie likes her morning quiet. Usually with a little more activity, but she can make an exception for Regionals. 

Bonnie is leaning against a light pole. She wills the rest of her girls to arrive sooner. The drive to camp would take more than half the day, and that’s if traffic is good. 

Her girls were wonderful. Being stuck in a bus with them for six to eight hours would get annoying for all of them.

The ring of a bell catches her attention. There’s a glowing light from the other end of the lot that glides towards the bus. 

Bonnie watches the arrival of two very polarizing people. There was Ange, pedaling away on a heavy, old mountain bike that had probably seen better days. Hopefully soon, Bonnie would figure out why she had such a penchant for subpar equipment. Then there was Kim, sitting with her, admittedly nice, legs crossed over the other on the back rack that was installed above the bike wheel. She has an arm wrapped around Ange’s waist for balance and an annoyingly content smile on her face. 

“Tch.” Bonnie makes a small noise of disapproval. It would be more tolerable if she could trade Kim for Ange. At the very least, Ange obeyed her. Bonnie thinks about the fountain incident. Most of the time.

Bonnie can see them talking about something, but doesn’t get to hear what until they’re close enough.

“-m sure it’ll go by in a flash.” Kim’s voice fades in. “You’ve always been good at passing the time, anyway.”

“I do have access to the lab again…” Ange says thoughtfully. Bonnie raises an eyebrow at that detail. “School’s gonna suck though,” she adds with a sigh.

It makes Bonnie frown. No matter how much she had needled Ange on Saturday, Ange hadn’t spilled the beans on what happened between her and Donavan at the dance. Bonnie suspected what it could be of course. A dance, a boy and a girl, a fight, the clues were kind of obvious. 

She just didn’t know Ange well enough yet to read her properly. It was a skill she was hoping to refine after Regionals were over and done with. Ange could speak in as many layers as she did. Figuring out when Ange was doing it was the fun part. It was a refreshing change of pace. Most of Bonnie’s usual group could get a little...basic. 

All she knew was that Ange would probably be spending this week very alone.

Whose fault is that, Bonnibel? Bonnie shoves that thought back into its cage.

The familiar sound of Ron’s janky and broken down moped drags her from her reverie. There he is, puttering up to the parking lot. There were some suitcases strapped to his awful vehicle. Likely his and Kim’s. Unfortunately, the Maddog mascot got to come along to this retreat too.

Turquoise eyes continue to observe them. Kim hops off of the bike. Ange props open the kickstand and swings her leg over the metal body. She sweeps Kim in an over the top hug that takes the redhead off of her feet. Bonnie can hear muffled giggles against Ange’s shoulder. It turns into full blown laughter when Ange starts spinning her in circles. Two sisters making a fool of themselves before the sun even rises.

That’s how sisters were meant to be. 

A sudden and overwhelming pang of grief. 

Bonnie rips her attention away, blinking rapidly to cut away the sting in her eyes. She pushes herself off of the light pole and away from the group. It’s easier to gather herself in the dark anyway. Her breathing is shaking, but focused. After counting backwards from twenty, she’s whole again. 

When she turns around, Ange has put Kim down and is heading in her direction. Bonnie makes sure her face gives nothing away.

“Possible,” Bonnie says, tone grumpier than she intended.

“Good morning, Bonnie.” Ange beams, ignoring it. She posts up under the light pole, where Bonnie had just been. “Are you excited for Camp Wannaweep?”

“Camp Wannaweep, no. Winning Regionals, oh yes.” Her voice falls into familiar arrogance. Her hip cocks to the side with confidence. This was more her style. “If you ask nicely, I’ll let you hold the trophy.” 

It makes Ange laugh. “Aww, Bonnie. You’ll spoil me.” Ange makes a beckoning motion with her hand and before Bonnie can think better of it, Bonnie walks towards her. It makes Bonnie’s reason stutter with surprise. Thankfully, Ange is too busy fishing something out of her nicer looking jogger pants pocket to notice. “Do you have a Upod?”

“Who do you think I am?” Bonnie rests a hand on the swell of her hip and scorns Ange with her gaze. For some reason, Ange smiles indulgently in the face of it. “Of course I do,” Bonnie says.

Ange holds her hand up to show Bonnie her prize.

In Ange’s finally manicured palm is something that looks a bit like a flash drive. One that was modified, maybe. “You’re right. It was silly of me to assume the queen of the school wouldn’t have the latest in technology.” 

Bonnie scoffs at the nickname, then wonders if she could convince Ange to call her ‘your Majesty.’ She probably could.

“Can I please see it?” Ange says. 

“I’ll actually kill you if you fuck it up right before this bus ride,” Bonnie says, dutifully ignoring Ange’s murmured ‘language’. Instead, she places her rose gold Upod into Ange’s warm palm. She watches Ange press a button on the modified flash drive and plug it into her device. The screen flashes on and off for several seconds. Bonnie doesn’t panic only because Ange still has that little smile she likes to wear on her face. “What are you doing with it, anyway?”

“Oh.” Interestingly, Ange looks ever so slightly flustered. Bonnie shifts all of her focus onto Ange’s facial expressions. “Uhm, I kind of made you a playlist.” Ange scratches the back of her neck awkwardly. Now why in the world would Ange react like that? “I thought it’d be nice to have something to listen to, since you kind of have a long ride ahead of you.” The Upod gives a little beep, and Ange presses the button of the flash drive again before pulling it free. “Feel free to tell me if I chose wrong, though.”

Ange hands it back to Bonnie, rocking back and forth on her heels. Was she hiding shyness? Bonnie gives her a long, assessing look. When Ange starts fidgeting in place, Bonnie finally looks away. 

Her Upod clicks on. Bonnie slides her finger against the wheel until she finds the newest fileset that Ange had titled ‘4Bonnie’.

The first thing she sees is a picture of a black poster that has color splashed all over the bottom right corner. Her breath catches, just slightly, with surprise. It was the same poster that had been pasted onto the window of the record shop they’d passed on Saturday. The poster for a band that none of her friends had heard of, from a genre Bonnie didn’t care to show them. When it came to music, pop and hip-hop were the safest subjects to talk about with her peers. 

She scrolls the wheel down. The rest of the songs, save a special few, are from bands she doesn’t recognize. There are a lot of them too. Bonnie looks at the size of the playlist and this time she doesn’t even try to hide her surprise. “You made me a seven hour long playlist?” 

“It’s six hours and fifty five minutes, actually,” Ange corrects. Of course Ange is a big enough nerd to memorize that. “Since, uh, the bus ride is going to take between six and eight hours, I figured I’d split the difference… Approximately.” 

Bonnie looks up from her Upod to analyze Ange a second time. Ange has a nervous grin on her face, but her eyes are watching Bonnie just as intently, trying to capture every microexpression. They both realize what they’re doing at the same time. Where Bonnie raises an eyebrow, Ange lets her nervous grin twitch into a little smirk. It’s all either of them are willing to acknowledge.

“You don’t have to like the music,” Ange finally says, reaching over to drape her hand over Bonnie’s shoulder. Her arm is warm and sturdy against Bonnie’s back. “And I only had one data point to go off of, but I tried to choose songs I thought would suit your taste.”

Last Friday, Ange had pressed her face into Bonnie’s shoulder and told her she smelled nice. Which, of course she did. Bonnie had spent a lot of time experimenting with scents to find the one that suited her best - Bart Maurant’s Everything Nice, Series No. 8. A delicate mix of jasmine, orchid flower, and saffron, chilli spice that she dabbed just behind each ear every morning. Bonnie would never say it out loud, but Ange’s scent was quite pleasant too. It was some kind of chocolatey, caramel sweet, and deeply spicy mix that barely rested on Ange’s skin. When Bonnie was this close to Ange, an occasional tantalizing thread of it would brush up against her nose.

She takes a deep breath and smiles. 

“I’ll save my judgement for the road.” Bonnie goes back to scrolling the playlist, familiarizing herself with the cover art of each song. Maybe Ange had a lot of time to listen to music down in that lab. “And I’m totally going chew you out if you just filled my Upod up with crap, Ange.” She pokes her finger into Ange’s (very solid) side, but it’s not a harsh movement at all. “Pray you did good.” 

Ange sighs. “Thanks Bonnie. I totally wanted to spend the next five days wondering if you’ll let me live on Friday,” she admits. Bonnie laughs at it.

“Girls.” Kim’s voice calls out to them from a few feet away. There’s a strange look on her face. It quickly morphs into a raised eyebrow pointed at Ange. “We’re almost ready to go.” During their conversation, the other cheerleaders must have arrived and settled in. “Are you ready, Bonnie?” Her green eyes focus on Bonnie’s Upod.

Moment broken, Bonnie slides out from under Ange’s arm. “Of course I am, K. I was the first one here.” She lifts a haughty chin as she walks by the redhead. “I just hope you’re ready. I don’t want to have to carry any deadweight at Regionals.” Bonnie catches Kim rolling her eyes to the sky out of the corner of her vision.

As she makes her way towards the bus, she hears Kim and Ange talking behind her.

“You made her a playlist? You didn’t make me a playlist!”

“You already have the entire Oh Boyz and MC Honey discography on your Kimmunicator!”

“It’s the thought that counts, Angie!”

“Well, maybe if you ask nicely, Bonnie will share.”

Bonnie climbs up into the bus with a cat-like smile on her face.

Chapter Text

Donavan is waiting by her locker when she gets there. Ange’s stride pauses for a half second before she continues with a quicker pace. When he spots her, he looks away immediately. The budding hope in her chest withers away. 

This time would be different. She wasn’t going to passively wait for life to flow around her. Ange was going to grab it by the horns. “Donavan?” Despite the determination, her voice still comes out wet. “About the dance, I-” He holds a hand up, silently asking her for a moment. Ange gives it to him.

“I still want to be your friend.” Donavan’s voice is just as watery. Ange can tell he’s trying to keep it together as much as she is. “B-but, I need.. I just need a bit of space to get over this.” Finally, he turns to look at her. Heartbreak is all she can see. “When I’m ready, I’ll come find you.” Donavan waits for her to nod a shaky nod. Then, he walks to their English Literature class and lets her gather her textbook by herself.

She opens the door numbly, looking at the insides. A textbook for each class, a portable toolkit, a carbon laser cutter, five smoke bombs, and a grappling hook stare back at her. Ange places her textbook in her bag.

Bonnie wouldn’t be here. Donavan wasn’t talking to her for now. Thank god it was only for now. The tweebs were fun to build with, but only in small doses. Most of the day, her parents had more important things to do than tinker in the downstairs laboratory. There was no way she could interrupt them just to pass the time. Kim would be away all week for Regionals. Ange knew how much that meant to her.

Angelus closes her locker door and makes a decision.

Cracking the code to Kim’s locker is only a little harder than the others. It would be tougher for someone with less knowledge on Kim’s security system. Automatically, the computer built into the cage turns on. Ange takes a second to study the two mugshots Kim has taped to her door before she’s greeted with the sight of Wade typing furiously onto his computer. He has a wireless headset on and he’s barking orders at his mic.

“I need another healer on our tank, guys. This is just sloppy!” Ange hears the sound of some kind of explosion, maybe a roar too? If she had to bet money on it, Ange is certain Ron would know what Wade was playing by sound alone. “No, don’t stop pushing on the right si- Stop saying LEROY JENKINS!” Ange hears another, muffled voice shouting leeeeeeeeeeroy jeeeeeeeenkins out of Wade’s headset immediately afterwards. There’s another explosion that has Wade falling back into his chair, smushing his hand into his face. He lets out one exhausted “Auuuuuuugh,” before he catches sight of her. 

“Ange?!” Wade jumps, then glares at the slightly amused smile Ange shoots him. His look morphs into concern. “What are you doing here? Is everything alright with Kim?” 

“Just peachy.” Ange says. She winces at how much sarcasm is in it. “I was just thinking about something, and I was hoping you could work with me on it.” Wade raises a curious eyebrow at her. “Kim’s away kicking cheerleader butt right now.” He nods, taking a sip from his big gulp. “And it’s really important for her to be able to focus on that, right?” Another nod, though it’s slower. 

Good, he was putting it together. Smart people were always so nice to talk to.

“Let me take over her missions.” Ange says. “Just for this week.” She adds quickly. Ange gives him more points for not denying her immediately. She watches him think about it before speaking. 

“I don’t know, Ange.. Some of her missions can get really dangerous.”

“I’ve already considered that.” Ange says, then points out with severe gravity. “But Kim is trying to win Regionals.” 

Wade gives her another pensive stare, then a thoughtful nod. “That is a really good point…” Ange can pinpoint the moment Wade gives in. He turns to one of the keyboards on his desk and types away at a speed she didn’t realize was possible. “How about this, let's do a trial run.” 

Gathering data. Ange wiggles a little with delight. 

The printer attached to the locker’s computer starts spitting out a sheaf of paper. “A dam broke in Southern Oregon. They could use some assistance with search and rescue.”

Ange tears it out and reads the details over. “When’s my ride arriving?” 

“I’m calling in a favor from a pilot in California. He should be able to get to you in about an hour.” 

Ange purses her lips. Then, they break into a grin. She’s made another decision. “Reroute it to the house, Wade.” Ange feels her eyes narrow with determination. “I need to change.” 

---

Ange spends the entire ride to Oregon memorizing the Search and Rescue Tips and Tricks pamphlet Wade had printed out for her. She’s wearing ratty sweatpants, a fitted t-shirt, her red bolero jacket, some chunky sneakers, along with Kim’s usual mission kit, and two power bars. She ate the third before she took off.

---

Her parachute is still billowing when she touches ground. Ange uses the buoyancy to stuff it back in its pack, ensuring it can’t tangle on anything hidden under the icy flood water. It’s up to her knees, but she knows it’s worse farther to the north. Wade was kind enough to gift her an inflatable raft that springs to life as soon as it touches the water. She hops onto it and starts right into the fray.

The first… thing… she sees is a corpse, bloated and floating face down in muddy water. She paddles past it. Ange isn’t looking for things. 

She sees exactly ninety five of them during her search anyway.

It is best to continue. Ange pulls seventy two different people out from deep water and broken attics. 

They’re scared, cold, and blank with grief. And yet, she gets a desperate, iron-tight hug here. Someone slips a piece of candy into her pocket there. Its wrapper is covered in dried, flaking mud, but the artificial orange flavor bursts vibrantly on her tongue. Another person lets her pet their dog. Three waterlogged cats guard a mother and her infant. A withered old man gives her a smile so grateful Ange sees it every time she closes her eyes. Ange shares one of her power bars with a young orphan. He gives her a tiny little toy soldier that Ange buries deep into her backpack.

It’s four solid hours of non-stop movement before the area is declared clear. She eats her last bar on the train ride home, dripping stinky flood water onto the metal cargo floor. 

In her pocket, the Kimmunicator Wade had shipped to her beeps four times.

“Well, how’d it go?” He asks, studying her reaction carefully.

Ange thinks about every single person she met today and smiles.

“Spankin’.” 

---

It’s super late when she gets home. 

Ange goes in through the bedroom window so she doesn’t wake up her parents. She showers, changes into her pajamas, and wonders why she’s able to go to sleep so easily. 

In the morning, the tiny toy soldier she’d placed on her side of the desk catches her eye. Ange stops wondering.

---

When Ange walks into her English Lit class on Tuesday morning she discovers that Donavan has switched his seat with someone else. Another nerd that shoots her a suspicious look and refuses to speak to her. 

Ange forgets how much it stings an hour later, when Wade calls her about an earthquake in El Salvador.

---

She makes it until Friday before Wade calls her on another mission. She used the downtime to invent drones that detect human heartbeats through most solid objects. They were accurate up to sixty five feet, but it really depends on the density they had to work through. The Kimmunicator goes off in the middle of the library, right before she’s about to take her first bite of her sandwich. The only reason the librarian doesn’t give her a dirty look is because Ange has always been a very good girl up until now. Still, she shoves all of her food back in her lunch pack and scrambles out of the heavy double doors.

“Sitch me, Wade.” Ange says, trying not to drop a loose apple slice. 

“I can’t get into contact with Kim.” Wade says. It falls to the floor with a wet thud. A deep and bone chillingly cold something starts uncoiling somewhere in the depths of her chest. Before she can figure out what that is, Wade says something else that makes her clench her teeth. “But it gets worse. I just got reading on Drakken and Shego’s movements. They have a lair in Utah, and it looks like Drakken has been building something big.”

“How big?” Please let it be something I can ignore, Ange prays. The look Wade is giving her isn’t promising. 

“Like, rip the earth in two, big.”

“...Do you know how long until it’s operational?” 

Wade’s jaw drops open in surprise. “This is the end of the world we’re talking about!” 

It surprises Ange that what she says next surprises her so little. “Kim is more important.” She does her best to ignore how Wade’s face shifts into something disappointed and closed off. Instead, Ange pushes her point forward. “There’s no way Drakken would set it off without a few hours of threatening and posturing, right?”

“I’m worried about her too.” Wade actually turns away from his screen to look at her head on. “But she’s Kim Possible, Ange. She knows how to take care of herself. Not to mention, she has Ron and Rufus to watch her back.” Honestly, if the world wasn’t at stake, Wade would think it was kind of touching that that didn’t seem to convince Ange to drop it. “I’m also sending people to her location as we speak. If she really needs help, she’ll get it.”

Logically, it makes sense. 

Ange wasn’t logical when it came to her people. “Wade, I need to know if she needs help-”

A flashing light on Wade’s side of the Kimmunicator draws their attention. Whatever it is makes him start typing frantically on his keyboard. “Your timer just started.” He pulls a screen up on Ange’s Kimmunicator. A muted and grainy video of an evil, raving man strutting around a large machine starts playing. “Drakken just sent this video to every government head in the world.” Drakken caresses the metal hull, staring directly into the camera. Wade’s voice speaks over whatever he’s saying. “If they don’t surrender to him in four hours,” In the video, Drakken stands up to his full height - scarred, broad shouldered and grinning wide enough to show off his canines. Slowly, he stalks towards the camera. “He’s going to destroy the whole world.”

The last thing Ange sees before the video goes black are two shaded and dark eyes staring directly at her.

Chapter Text

During the ride to camp, most of the girls lay in paired piles and try to catch up on sleep. Kim takes a seat next to a dreary Ron, then moves over to sit by Hope when he starts drooling in his sleep. 

Bonnie lets Tara rest on her shoulder. She plugs her earphones into her Upod, looks out the window and spends the entire drive listening to Ange’s six hour and fifty five minute long playlist. 

The first song is everything she hoped for in her favorite band's newest release. To her surprise, the second one acts as the perfect transition into Ange’s particular tastes. The list of songs range from fast dance to regretful, balladic, angelic voices. By the time the bus comes to a janky stop at the front gates of Wannaweep, she’s finished every single one. Luckily for Ange, Bonnie wouldn’t have to kill her on Friday.

Barkin hands out papers to every cheerleader as they hop down the stairs towards freedom. Bonnie stretches her arms towards the sky until she feels something in her back pop. 

“Alright, ladies,” Barkin’s voice bellows against the overgrown wood pike walls. That... probably wasn’t a good sign. “Don’t lose this. It has our schedule for the week. Your assigned cabins are printed out on the back.” She flips her paper over to see a big fat number nine printed into the page. She grins. At least she got assigned to her lucky number. “Go get settled in and we’ll meet up at five thirty for dinner.” Bonnie grabs her duffel bag and makes her way into the camp.

Past a heavy wood gate, Bonnie gets her very first look at the full luster of Camp Wannaweep. She stops short fast enough that the girl behind her bumps into her.

“Bonnie!” Kim sounds annoyed behind her. “What are you doing?!” 

“Like, watch where you’re going,” Bonnie shoots back only out of habit. Otherwise, her full attention is on the… swamp, it was a swamp, before her. Once Kim sees what she does, she freezes.

Jessica is next to the travesty. “Oh my god,” she says. Hope has to catch her as her knees go weak. “This place is a total dump!” The rest just stare in mouth gaping horror.

Vines of poison ivy crawl up cabins that themselves look like they were built with crude machinery. A bush rustles on the overgrown lawn. Bonnie takes a step behind Kim when a snake slithers out of it across a muddy path, only to disappear into grass that had grown up to waist height. It could bite Kim first.

Two weeks ago, when this retreat had been announced, the girls had been given a brochure on Camp Wannaweep. It boasted a beautiful sunny lake that was perfect for fishing, boating, and swimming, even in the early fall. This place was several degrees warmer year round than Middleton, which Bonnie had thought would have been a plus. 

What sat in front of her was not a lake.

A thick layer of stinking, rotting algae covers the entire liquid mass. Bugs hover over that in thick, buzzing clouds. When a breeze meanders by, the mass of insects float along the wind and towards them. The scent does too. Bonnie wasn’t sure which was worse.

“Nope!” Bonnie is the first one to react to this disaster. “Nope, I’m renting a hotel room.” She turns around towards the bus. “Girls, who wants to pitch in with me-” The bus reverses right in front of her, only to pull a three point turn and rumble down the unpaved road, away from Camp Wannaweep and towards civilized society. She holds up a quivering, open hand. Even though Bonnie knows it’s useless, she still lets out a whimper. “Come back, you can’t leave me here!” 

Kim is the second to recover. “Oh, Bonnie, this is probably no big. Let's look at the bright side.” She looks around once, then again, but more helplessly. The third time doesn’t do anything either. Her shoulders slump. “Okay, I can’t find the bright side to this,” Kim says, defeated. 

“I knew it!” Ron cries out. “I knew we shouldn’t have come here! This place is cursed! Cursed I say!” For the first time in Bonnie’s life, she agrees with him. She does, however, tune out his following rant about… monkeys? Whatever else Ron is talking about is definitely not worth her time.  Instead, she reaches into her duffel bag and pulls out her well maintained flip-phone. Bonnie feels her heart drop. This was really the place that keeps on giving.

“There’s no service!” It prompts all the other girls to take out their phones too. The looks on their faces definitely confirm they didn’t have any either. “Kim, please tell me you can get something on that thing your nerd friends made up for you!”

“It’s called a Kimmunicator!” Kim glares at Bonnie, like that isn’t the cheesiest thing she’s said today. Bonnie rolls her eyes. Still, she fishes it out of her pocket and… Kim’s shoulders slump even lower. “I’ve got nothing.” 

Even Barkin doesn’t scold Bonnie for what she says next. Really, she’s just voicing what all of them are thinking.

”...Fuck.”

---

Bonnie places her duffel bag on the top bunk of cabin number nine. Before she can figure out what to do first, clear the cobwebs that haunt every corner of the room, or clean the windows from caked on dust, Kim walks in through the doorway. They stare at each other in mutual horror.  

“Cabin number nine?” Kim says, pleading.

“Cabin number nine.” Bonnie says, sighing.

---

Bonnie’s alarm clock goes off at four thirty in the morning. Maybe she forgot to turn it off, maybe she didn’t. Either way, she climbs down the ladder of the top bunk. To her surprise, Kim doesn’t look annoyed to have been woken up this earlier in the morning. To her greater surprise, Kim gets off the bed and joins her on the floor for some warm up stretches.

The difference in their routine becomes apparent as Bonnie moves further into her flexibility training. She had to miss a week of ballet classes, but that didn’t mean she was going to fall behind. Kim finishes her stretching and hops onto the balls of her feet. Was it Tai Chi that she starts? Bonnie wouldn’t know. The graceful movements are still fascinating to watch. Maybe Bonnie could add something like that to her routine?

Kim catches Bonnie staring when she crouches into White Crane Spreads Wings. She adopts a thoughtful look on her face that goes unnoticed by Bonnie, who quickly looks away. Well, Kim might as well try.

“Bonnie?” Kim says. Bonnie looks up from her side split, mildly annoyed.

“I was enjoying the quiet, K.” 

That was about what I expected, Kim thinks. The path to hell and all that. “Do you want to learn?” she carries on, anyway. Before Bonnie can give her the scoff she knows is coming, Kim continues. “You said you wanted to, that one time.” 

It makes Bonnie blink in surprise. When had she said that? Bonnie folds her torso against her leg as she thinks. 

Right, it was a Wednesday, back when Ange was still on the track and field team. Bonnie had stopped to watch the two sisters chase each other down in the gymnasium. More like Ange tried to chase Kim down while Kim tried not to get covered in sweat. Then they’d all had a lovely shower together, or whatever. The acrobatics the two had displayed were decent, but it was really the reflexive instincts Bonnie had seen that had captured her interest. In theory, Bonnie knew that Kim went out several times a week to stop evil villains from destroying the world. That afternoon, she had gotten a glimpse of Kim’s competence. 

Bonnie wants that.

“I don’t see how whatever it is you’re doing is at all related to what I was talking about,” Bonnie decides to say. Tai Chi was beautiful, but it certainly wasn’t capable of kicking ass. Kim lets her lips curl into a knowing smile. 

“Fighting looks flashy and cool,” Kim says as she resumes her routine. “But slow movements like these are the building blocks it's all based off of.” She falls into a low Snake Creeps Through the Grass. “Muscle control and proper breathing were skills that I needed to master before I was allowed to run off to dodge death rays and self-destruct villain lairs.”

“Is that what your missions are like?” Bonnie asks. Kim nods at her. “Why do lairs even have a self-destruct function?”

“Well, that’s just how those things go.” Kim gives her a helpless shrug. It makes Bonnie snort once with amusement. 

Bonnie thinks about how skillfully Kim had been able to dodge around Ange. Then she thinks about how she’s made the commitment to be Ange’s friend. That meant she wasn’t allowed to be mean to the people Ange loves, only to Ange. What a weirdo. Bonnie muses fondly. Then she thinks about how she’s going to be stuck sharing a cabin with Kim Possible for the next five days, and she sighs.

“Alright, K.” Bonnie stands up and levels her with a determined stare. “Let's give this a shot.” 

---

By Wednesday, Bonnie and Kim conclude that their girls are almost Regionals ready. The routine is memorized. All that’s left to do is drill it into muscle memory. The vice head cheerleaders do just that Thursday, pushing the squad until they can do every twirl and toe point in their sleep.

On Friday, a fucking fish mutant dude thing named Gill covers them all in goo. Ew. Out of everyone to save their sorry asses, it’s Ron Stoppable. Now, Bonnie owes him a favor. Double ew.

They never do make it to Regionals.

---

The Kimmunicator beeps as soon as they’re back in service range. Bonnie is too busy catching up on missed texts to care-

“What do you mean Ange has been going out on missions?!” Kim yells from the back of the bus. Kim’s nerd friend that Bonnie doesn’t know the name of says something she can’t hear. It does, however, make Kim’s voice raise a shrill octave.

”What do you mean Ange is on a mission to stop Drakken and Shego from destroying the world!?!”

Chapter Text

Ange stands at the edge of the drop hatch the entire flight without saying a single word. She’s wearing her - now familiar - mission gear, a jump helmet that shields her eyes, and a heavy parachute backpack that weighs down at her shoulders. 

When Wade had first given her a personal Kimmunicator, Ange had programmed it to act as a second phone. She didn’t want to risk losing her flip phone halfway across the globe. There was a game of Snake she was half way to winning saved on it. After Ange had climbed up the rope ladder the cargo plane had provided her, the first thing she did was take her Kimmunicator out and send a text to Bonnie.

Are you okay?

After an hour-long flight, she still hadn’t gotten a reply. Wade would beep her when he had contact with Kim. The cold something in her chest was slowly uncoiling, spreading icy tendrils towards her legs and arms. 

Wind howls into the space as the cargo hatch opens downwards. It starts tearing away at her jacket and baggy sweatpants. Ange is jumping before the door even finishes opening.

Freefall rips her world wide apart. The horizon stretches an infinite amount in all directions beneath her. She scans it slowly with her eyes until blue locks onto an unnatural ninety degree angle that’s just barely poking out from underneath a mountain. Bingo. Ange tilts herself  perpendicular to the ground to speed towards it, face first. 

Ange doesn’t pull her chute until the last possible second. It snatches her from the air ten feet above the lair’s roof. At two feet, still moving too fast, she twists a pulley and swings herself upwards. It’s enough. Before her feet hit the roof, she shrugs her pack off and eats up the rest of the inertia with a roll. 

Her helmet and parachute lay forgotten on the ground as she slips into an air vent. 

“Okay Ange, Drakken should be forward one hundred yards and to the right by thirty.” Wade’s voice crackles quietly from the Kimmunicator. The only sound Ange makes is a hum of acknowledgment as she crawls through the chamber. Through a grid vent she crawls over, she can see two burly henchmen walk below her. 

That would be a problem. Thankfully, Ange had a few devices that could take people out of a fight… but then what would she do with their unconscious bodies? No, it didn’t matter. If she did this right, they would never know she was in the building. 

After crawling one hundred and thirty yards forwards and to the right, she sees the hallways of the lair open into a wide, sterile warehouse. There are more henchmen inside. A man with blue skin is hunched over a steel table, muttering to himself. Most importantly, a woman that Ange recognizes from Kim’s locker door. She’s wearing a black and green catsuit and sitting on a comfortable lounge chair, filing her metal tipped gloves into fine points. Ange scans the layout of the room and continues forward.

There’s a row of large cargo boxes stacked on one end of the warehouse. Once she’s certain she’s positioned correctly, Ange uses her carbon laser to slice through the vent and land on the floor with nothing but a whisper. Between her and the large doomsday device in the center of the room are the following: two henchmen with their backs turned on her, Drakken at his table - fidgeting over some kind of device covered in buttons and levers, a concrete pillar that has two sets of cuffs pre-built into it (no doubt for Kim and Ron), and Shego. This was kind of the drama.

The two henchmen start to move, turning towards Ange, no doubt about to start a perimeter check. Ange steps backwards and molds into a shadow. From the table Drakken finally starts to speak.

“Shego!” He looks up from his device. “Has there been any word yet?”

“No, Dr. D,” says Shego. She doesn't look up from filing her gloves. “No world leaders have contacted us since the last time you asked, two minutes ago." Drakken slams his fist into the table. 

“Blast!” He glowers up at his doomsday device. Then, his face morphs into a worried frown. “Was it something I said? Shego, was my video intimidating enough? You would tell me if it wasn't, right?” From her chair, Shego rolls her eyes.

The henchmen ignore the conversation to have their own. “Hey, check this out.” One of them says. He lifts his arm up to show off a pink and yellow watch. “My kid got me the limited edition SpongeBob and Patrick watch. Took him twenty seven boxes of cereal.”

The other one gasps. “Oh man!” He stares at it like it's treasure. “I am so jealous. I've been trying to win one for three months.” The first one - Ange decides to name him Bob and the other Rick - puffs his chest out with pride. Rick juts out his lower lip. “Can I have a closer look? This might be the only time I ever see one in person.”

Bob starts unlatching the strap. “Sure, buddy. Just don't drop it.”

Rick drops it right in front of Ange’s shadow. 

“Oh man,” he says again, but apologetic. “I am so sorry.” Rick reaches down to grab it. On his way up, he catches sight of two chunky red sneakers. 

Rick has just enough time to look up at two ice cold eyes before he feels a pinprick on the exposed skin of his chin. He slumps to the floor, but Ange has to guide Bob’s unconscious body down herself so he doesn’t make any noise. Thank goodness Ange’s watch fitted ballistic sleep darts. Ange throws a probing glance at Drakken and Shego and is relieved to find them still where she left them. 

“What do you mean you wouldn’t tell me?” Drakken’s voice raises in shrill disbelief. He’s gripping the table like it owes him money. Underneath him, his feet stomp angrily, tippy-tapping out a tantrum. Ange steps into another shadow. “That’s what I pay you for!”

“No, no,” Shego shakes her head at him. Ange was quickly getting the impression that Shego always spoke with that sarcastic lilt. “You pay me to steal things, protect your ass, and kick other people’s ass.” She holds up a finger with each bullet point. “Tell me where in my contract it says I have to act as a movie critic. Go on, I’ll wait.” 

“I really wish you’d watch your language,” Drakken says, scolding probably the second most dangerous person in the entire world. Right after Kim, of course.

The kimmunicator in Ange’s pocket buzzes. Wade had set it so that any messages he sent to her would be silent while she was inside the lair. 

I’ve made contact with Kim. She’s 100% 

Ange did not, however, set up the same protocols for a text message. Four notes echo through the warehouse. She has just enough time to see that Bonnie has messaged her back.

I’m just fine. Are you really out saving the world?

Warmth immediately floods through Ange’s veins. It washes away the cold void that has been growing in her chest with soothing relief. All of the weight Ange had been carrying on her shoulders disappears like it hadn’t ever existed.

Then, she looks back up.

Shego isn’t in her chair anymore.

A silhouette drops onto the edge of Ange’s shadow. 

Ange follows it to its source, the top of the cargo box she was hiding behind. The first thing she sees is a pair of hands crackling with an electric green plasma. She looks up farther and comes face to face with eyes that flash in the darkness.“Well, hello-” Shego’s gleaming smile falls off of her face. “You’re not Kimmie.”

There really was only one logical thing to do in this scenario, wasn’t there. Ange gives Shego a nervous little grin, takes a breath and- 

“AAAH!” Ange falls back onto her strengths with a genuinely terrified scream. 

She shoots out of the shadow like a rocket, hooks a corner around a cargo box, and makes a beeline for the doomsday device. 

Searing heat at her back makes her spring to the left. The floor she had been about to step onto bursts into green light. Ange narrows her eyes, smashes the sole of her sneaker into the floor and wrenches herself to her right. Another blast of plasma splashes into her aborted trajectory. Ange forces her legs to move faster than they ever have in her life as she curves back towards her target. A henchman twice as large as she steps right into her path. Ange reaches out. Her hands grab his uniform in fists and she pulls down with her arms while pushing up with her legs. It lets her execute a jump that sends her smoothly rolling right over the man’s back. Ange lands at speed, closing the distance between her and the machine with each stride. Primal instinct compels her to look over her shoulder. 

Behind her, Shego is keeping pace. Ange notices a lot of things at the same exact time. 

Shego doesn’t make any noise when she runs, even at a full sprint. It’s a skill Ange was still trying to master. There’s an excited and dangerous grin on Shego’s face, one that shows off white and sharp incisors. Her green eyes track Ange steadily, the way a hawk might stare at a rabbit. 

Fear really does quicken perception. 

As if in slow motion, Ange watches Shego point a hand behind her own back. Green plasma blasts at the ground with such force that Shego shoots up and over Ange’s head, landing directly in front of her path. In slow motion, Ange realizes she doesn’t have enough time to stop. Even though she knows it’s folly, Ange uses her next step to pivot direction. It lets her dodge out of the way of Shego’s left hook, but it doesn’t save her from Shego grabbing the back of her jacket. Ange jerks to a sudden stop and notices one more thing.

Shego is stronger than her.

She pulls Ange towards her, right up into the air. Ange’s legs kick uselessly, trying to find purchase. Ange freezes when they are once again, face to face. 

Gosh, she’s pretty, is the first thing Ange thinks. The second is, I’m going to die. Shego has features as sharp and svelte and beautiful as a large cat. A panther, maybe. Ange certainly feels like she’s staring directly into the eyes of a predator animal. She can see Shego analyzing her from head to toe.

“You’re new,” Shego’s voice drops low. Ange got the feeling that she had caught Shego’s attention. Her legs kick faster than before. “But what are you doing he-”

“Don’t hurt me!” Ange wails. In times like these, it was best to use her favorite strategy. “I’m just a little guy! Please don’t hurt me!” She gives Shego the most pathetic, helpless looking pout she can manage. It makes Shego blink at her in surprise. Black lipstick lips fall open. “I’m like, a baby! You wouldn’t hurt a baby, would you? Oh gosh, I don’t actually know. I’m like- uh-” And yet, no matter how Ange wiggles and squirms, she can’t break free from Shego’s grasp. “-Uh, something harmless that you don’t need to worry about?” Ange lets herself nervously grin. Not her smoothest dismount ever.

Though Shego looks unammused, Ange is pleased to note that the razor aggression in Shego’s eyes has melted away. From over Shego’s shoulder, Ange sees Drakken walk towards them.

“Shego,” his voice is deep with command. If Ange hadn’t seen him act so self-conscious earlier, she might have even been intimidated by it. “Who is this -” Drakken blinks at Ange. “Little guy? You’re not little at all. Or a guy. Or a baby! That is an awful descriptor.”

Shego, for her part, just sighs tiredly. “I’m trying to figure that out myself, Dr. D.” Still holding Ange by the scruff of her jacket, she starts moving towards the concrete pillar. “And where’s Kimmie? She’s supposed to show up to these kinds of things.” 

“Tie her up first!” Drakken barks out the order. His eyes are dark lines of suspicion. “Who knows where she’s been, or what she’s up to.”

“I’m doing that already! And I’m pretty sure she’s trying to stop us.” Is Shego’s dry reply. Ange lets herself be strapped into the heavy metal cuffs bolted onto the surface of the pillar, hands and feet both. Is this what Kim got into on her missions? Ange studies Shego curiously. Maybe she should try and join more of them. 

“She’s busy,” Ange says, testing the strength of the metal. Her body wiggles from one side to the next, but there is no way she’ll be able to loosen herself free. At the hint that Ange might know her, Shego regards her again. “Uhm, trying to win Regionals with the cheerleading squad. I’m her sister.” That gets Shego to slowly look her up and down. Ange grins sheepishly. Ange knew that she and Kim looked nothing alike. Copper hair, blue eyes, brown skin compared to red hair, green eyes, pale skin. Perhaps the only physical similarities between them was their incredible reflexes - though Kim’s were still better by an unnatural amount. “Her half sister.” Ange clarifies. It makes Shego raise a manicured eyebrow. “My name is Angelus, but please, call me Ange. It’s very nice to meet you both.” 

“Well, aren’t you a polite young lady.” Shego spits out. The beautiful woman is obviously unimpressed with her, which kind of stings. Ange tries her best to ignore it. Manners maketh man is what her mama had taught her. If she abandoned those principals now… 

Ange shivers in her cuffs. She didn’t want to think about it.

“I don’t care who you are!” Drakken says, which is honestly just rude. “It won't matter anyway.” Now that he has a captive, he walks back over to his desk to pick up his contraption of levers and buttons. “Once I activate my anti-matter generator, the world will tremble before the raw, awesome power of my intellect! For I am-” Somewhere behind him, a henchman reaches over and presses a button. A bolt of lightning cracks out of a cobbled together tesla coil. “-Dr. Drakken!” 

For the first time in Ange’s life, she watches a fully grown man dissolve into maniacal laughter right in front of her. The moment is ruined when Drakken breathes in too quickly, then doubles over in disgustingly wet hacks. Ange shares a glance with Shego. Shego just lets her head fall back on her neck with an exasperated sigh. Then, she walks over and starts patting Drakken on the back. “It’s alright, Dr. D. Let it all out.”

A few more coughs, then Drakken straightens out with a pitiful, “Thank you, Shego.” He clears his throat. “Now- what were we talking about-”

“Did you say anti-matter generator?” 

Two pairs of eyes turn to look at Ange. One green, the other an empty pit of black. 

Slowly, Drakken twists his face into a grin of teeth. “Oh yes.” He purrs, rubbing his hands together. “My latest work. Behold!” He dramatically sweeps his arm towards the machine. Something approximately the same shape as a microscope, except large enough that it dwarfs everything else in the room. On the edge of it is a sharp pinprick point that is facing directly at the sky. “With this creation, I will be able to bring the entire world to its knees-”

“What are you doing to account for the reality warping?”

Two pairs of eyes blink at Ange. Drakken puts his contraption - probably the remote - back onto his desk. “You know about the reality warping?” 

“Well, yeah. That’s like, one of the biggest hurdles to building an anti-matter machine. Besides building the anti-matter machine itself, that is.” 

“Hm.” Beady eyes stare at Ange. Hanging from her cuffs, Ange stares back expectantly. “I made a machine that creates a reality void between the anti-matter and matter. So that there’s no reality for the anti-matter to warp.” 

“So that there’s no reality for the anti-matter to warp!” Ange says at the exact same time. 

She can’t help it. Ange squeals, uncontrollably wiggling this way and that in her restraints. “Oh my gosh. Why didn’t I think of that!? MIT is going to feel so stupid!” Ange leans as far forward as she can to catch a better glimpse of the anti-matter generator. She knows her blue eyes are probably sparkling with manic glee as she tries to figure out how all the components of the machine fit together by sight alone. She can't find it in herself to care. “Dr. Drakken, that is absolutely brilliant!” 

“It is?” Dr. Drakken says in complete surprise. Then he clears his throat and throws a finger high into the air. “I mean, of course it is! It is one of my finest creations.” 

Shego looks back and forth between the two of them, a sudden foreboding in her chest.

Chapter Text

In a sterile warehouse room, some hundred yards under the Wasatch mountain range in Utah, is a man with blue skin and a bright smile. Surrounding him are several henchmen milling about, an anti-matter generator the size of a metro city bus, a woman in a green and black suit, and most importantly, a teenage girl cuffed to a cold concrete pillar, wibbling and wobbling much like a particularly deranged worm might. Or, like, the recently removed tail of a skink, gecko, or anoles.

The point of the matter was that Shego was having a… bad time. This was starting to feel like a very bad time.

Like watching a match of tennis, green eyes ping pong from one person to the next. One person called, the other answered. Each answer would only invite another bout of squirming, and each call only strengthened the manic glee in Dr. Drakken’s eyes. 

“How do you get enough power to run it?” Ange says.

“I made a tantulum pulse capacitor!” Drakken answers. 

Ange laughs breathlessly. “That’s insane! Tokyo Tech has been working on making one of those for five years!”

“That’s why they call it mad science!” Drakken has left the desk completely. He paces in front of Ange faster and faster, arms gesturing into the air with each word. 

“What is the chassis made out of?” Ange says.

“Subatomic electro-cermaic nanoweave!” Drakken answers.

“Oh my gosh, now that you say it, it’s so obvious!” Ange follows Drakken’s pacing with excited, sparkling eyes. “Where do you vent the excess energy?”

“You don’t need to!” Drakken is so excited he starts jumping in place, like a child given free range of a confectionery. Shego continues to watch with a disbelieving, open mouthed gape. “The anti-matter absorbs it, then makes anti-energy! It cancels out.”

“It cancels out?! You’ve tested it?” Ange shakes her head with an amused sigh. “Of course you have, you’re a scientist. Can I see the results!? What are the readings like?” 

Drakken’s eyes go big with wonder. Is Shego imagining that tear in his eye? No. No she is not. “You want to see my datasets?”

“There is literally nothing more in life that I want more - wait- can I see your schematics? Is that okay? I know those can be very personal.” Ange’s shaking slows in her worry. Drakken dismisses it with an excited wave of his hand. He’s already running towards the desk.

“Nonsense! These schematics are art, I tell you! Art!” His hands frantically shuffle through the papers strewn upon the desk. The irrelevant ones end up on the floor, until he grabs a poster sized paper into his fist with an “Ah-ha!” He sprints back towards Ange, clutching the paper like treasure. “And art deserves to be viewed by the people who can appreciate it!” 

Okay, this was getting out of hand. It probably got out of hand a while ago. Before he can make it back to the pillar, Shego reaches out and grabs the back of Drakken’s lab coat. He comes to a violent halt. 

“Hey, Dr. D?” she says, ignoring the confused glare he gives her. Instead, she gives him a lidded, unimpressed sneer. “Do you really think you should be showing your ‘schematics’ to the girl who’s trying to stop us?”

“Shego!” He shakes off Shego’s gloved hand. To her confusion, his cheeks flush a deeper blue than normal. “Stop it! You’re embarrassing me in front of her,” he whispers loudly at Shego behind a cupped hand. Shego is pretty certain Ange can hear him, because Ange bites her lip in amusement. “I can show my schematics to whoever I want!” Drakken clears his throat, standing tall. “Because I’m the boss here! And I don’t pay you to ask questions.”

No one can say she didn’t try. Shego just gives him one last judging stare, throws a cautious glance at Ange, then saunters back to her lounge chair. 

She can hear Drakken scamper back to Ange and the rustle of paper as he starts showing off his designs. Sometimes, Ange ‘oohs’, sometimes she ‘aahs’, every few moments, Shego hears the murmur of a question and Drakken’s excited answer. Shego decides to drown it out by picking up a magazine. It helps her forget that she’s employed by a buffoon - and what that says about her in particular. 

For a while, this works. Maybe five or ten minutes, she’s able to relax between the pages of Fashionistas Fusion. There’s a particularly lovely article on the next winter collection that MoMo Camel is set to release in October. Then -

Thunk.

That is definitely the sound of cuffs being opened back up. Shego jerks her head to the pillar. Ange’s feet are firmly planted on the ground, she’s rubbing at her wrists, and she’s giving Drakken the biggest smile yet. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Ange says. “This is like, the best day of my life!” 

“Oh, but of course!” Dr Drakken gestures towards his desk and the remote that sits atop it. 

“Woah, woah, woah!” Shego hops to her feet like lightning. Plasma whispers along the flat of her palms. “What is happening?” She’s pleased to see Ange take a few steps behind Drakken. At least the girl was smart enough to fear her. “Why are you letting her go!?” 

“She wants to press a button,” Drakken states.

“What,” Shego says, not as a question.

“Ange here,” Drakken reaches over and clasps a hand on Ange’s shoulder. He gently pushes her forward towards Shego. Ange gives Shego an awkward smile and a more awkward wave. “Wants to press a button!”

Shego questions her life decisions.

How quickly can someone go through the five stages of grief? First there’s denial. “There’s no way you’re going to let her press a button.” Drakken nods at her, pointedly. It sends something sinking into Shego’s stomach. Then, there’s anger. “You are not letting her press a button.” That makes Drakken scoff. Once again, he puffs out his chest.

“Did I not just say that I was the boss here? I make the decisions, Shego! Not you.” 

Shego looks at Drakken, then at Ange - who is once against biting her lip in amusement. She looks back at Drakken. The third stage of grief is bargaining. Shego presses her palms together in front of her and points them at her boss. “Please do not let her press a button,” she says. 

Drakken sniffs out his disapproval. “I’m going to let her press a button.” 

Depression. Shego feels her shoulders hunch. She looks towards the ceiling of their stupid Utah lair and finally enters the fifth and final step. Acceptance. “Alright, Drakken. Do whatever you want, bossman.”

Drakken lets out a little squee. Ange does too. Shego just sinks back in her chair, a broken woman, and watches Ange scuttle over to the desk. “This is so cool!” Ange picks the remote up into the air, looking it over completely. “Oh my gosh, it’s even ergonomic." It makes Drakken puff up like a peacock. 

“If there’s one thing about me that you should know, Ange,” he buffs his nails on his chest. A move that would have worked better if he wasn’t wearing thick black gloves. “It is that I am very smart.”

Ange gives him a big smile as she presses the big, red, self-destruct button located at the bottom of the remote. Immediately, red lights start flashing around the entire lair. Henchmen start fleeing towards the exit. The building rumbles a little bit, sending dust towards the floor.

Drakken looks at Ange. Shego looks at Ange. Ange looks between both Shego and Drakken. Her smile only spreads wider and wider across her face as she sees what she’s done sink into their faces. After a brief pause, Ange opens her mouth.

“We should get out of here.”

---

Ange makes sure she’s the last one there before she leaves. It did mean stopping two henchmen and convincing them to drag Rick and Bob in the sixty seconds they had to flee. They were easily compelled once she mentioned the limited edition Spongebob and Patrick watch at stake. 

She sprints down the hallway and leaps out into open air. Her heartbeat thumps in her chest, her limbs feel lightning quick with adrenaline, for the first time since this mission started, Ange feels free of all responsibility. She did it! She actually saved the world. In mid air, she lets out a delighted, “Wa ha ha ha!” Her limbs flail around her until she’s in a better position to land.

Even though it’s early fall, snow has accumulated at this elevation. It cushions her rolled landing as the entire mountain rumbles. Ange springs to her feet and turns around just in time to watch the lair explode into brilliant light and color. It’s awe inspiring until she realizes debris is about to rain down on her. Ange digs her heel into the snow and breaks towards the treeline. She doesn’t stop running until she happens to come across two familiar figures in a clearing. Shego and Drakken, in the middle of a good scolding.

“What did we learn?” Shego says calmly. Despite her tone, she’s got Drakken by the collar. Her hands are steaming in the below freezing air. 

“N-Not to let the captive free?” Drakken says hopefully. He lets out a sigh of relief when Shego lets him go. He got the right answer in one. A new record.

“Hi guys,” Ange says, stuttering her steps until she comes to a complete halt. Her eyes are as wild as the smile on her face. “That was so cool. Oh my gosh, we have to do that aga- AAAH!” She hits the ground just in time to miss a bolt of plasma. A tree explodes behind her. “Wait- WAIT!” On all fours, Ange scurries back towards the trees. “Stop it! Don’t hurt me! I’m a little guy!”

“No you aren’t!” Shego yells. Rage makes her entire body heat. The snow at her feet starts to melt in dramatic puffs of steam that cover her form like bars on a cage. “You are DEAD, that's what you are!” Her eyes scan the trees - Begrudgingly, a part of her respects how Ange had disappeared so quickly.

“Why?! I already stopped you!” Ange’s voice calls out from the shadows. “We don’t have a reason to fight anymore.”

Shego picks the direction she hears Ange from and throws out a large blast of green. The trees instantly catch fire. “I am not going to jail today, Brainiac! Which means turning you to ash.” To her annoyance, she gets a response.

“Jail? I’m not going to send you to jail,” Ange’s voice says.

Shego pauses in surprise, and even Drakken perks up. “You aren’t?” Shego asks with disbelief.

Cautiously, Ange pokes her head out from behind a tree several yards away from the dying forest fire. It was too cold to spread, thankfully. Once she’s certain Shego isn’t going to burn her, she steps out completely.

“Well, let's run through how that would go.” Ange takes a few careful steps towards them, eyeing Shego more than Drakken. “I would throw the very first punch of my life, and miss.” Ange points a finger at Shego. “And then you would make me swallow approximately five of six of my front teeth,” she finishes with a rueful shake of her head. 

Shego allows herself to chuckle once. “Yeah, probably.”

Ange walks up to Drakken and reaches out to grab his hand. She gives it several shakes and him a delighted smile. Drakken goes from looking forlorn and properly scolded to wide eyed as he regards her. “It was really an honor to meet you, Dr Drakken.” Drakken looks at her like he doesn’t know what’s going on. Good.

“It-it was?”

“Oh yes. I think you might be one of the smartest people I’ve ever met.” Maybe not in terms of common sense, but Ange wasn’t going to tell him that. She watches the life return to his eyes.

“I am? Of course I am.” He shoots Shego a smug little look. Shego starts massaging her temples. “It’s certainly nice to get that acknowledged, however.” 

What Ange says next isn’t technically a lie. “Kim’s Regionals are really important to her.” She lets go of his hands to put her own behind her back. For good measure, she digs her toe into the ground. “Could you pretty please hold off on any world domination plans for about a week?”

Thankfully, Drakken doesn’t even need to think about it.

---

Drakken watches the helicopter take off into the air. Unfortunately, that nice young woman goes with it. When she pops her head over the side and gives him an excited wave, he can’t suppress the pleased “Mmgn!” He waves back with gusto, hopping from one foot to the other. Once Ange is gone, he finally looks away.

Shego is staring at him. The unimpressed look she gives him is nothing new, but still a little hurtful. 

“So,” Shego gives him an expectant, large eyed stare. “What do you want me to steal next?”

Drakken gasps. “Shego!” He says, scandalized. “We just promised Ange we wouldn’t commit any acts of villainy for a week.” Who could say no to such a sweet girl, anyway. Especially one that could recognize his vast genius. 

“Oh, I thought you were lying to her.” Shego says. Drakken gives another more scandalized gasp. In return, Shego leans her hip to the side and rests her clawed fingers into the dip of her waist. “Since, we’re villains.” She reminds him. Lying is kind of what villains did.

The reminder only makes his brows furrow towards his beady, dark eyes. “I’m a villain, Shego. Not a fabulist!” Honestly, it’s like she didn’t respect him, sometimes. To his satisfaction, he watches Shego sigh. The aggression visibly melts from her form.

“Alright, doc.” Shego starts walking into the treeline. “I’m taking a week-long vacation.” Drakken decides to allow it because it wouldn’t make sense to keep her around for the week. And he probably couldn’t stop her.

“Have a lovely time.” Drakken calls out after her as she disappears into the treeline. She doesn’t answer him. Suddenly, it’s just him, the trees, and the cold, cold snow. Drakken feels a shiver run down his spine. “Oh, wait, what about me?” The hum of the only surviving hover ship powers on. “...Shego?” Drakken watches it fly off over the treeline. 

Drakken looks around at the desolate landscape. Somewhere in the distance, there’s a birdsong. It’s the only sound he hears, besides the wind starting to pick up through the trees.

---

The bus pulls into the Middleton High parking lot at approximately six in the afternoon. Eight cheerleaders, one mascot, and a very underpaid substitute teacher clamber off in utter relief. At this time on a Friday afternoon, the only people on campus are the parents of said cheerleaders waiting in idling cars. Several get out to hug their little girls. Bonnie sees a few of them - her girls and their parents - start crying. Normally, she would roll her eyes at the dramatics, but…

Yeah, this time it was that bad.

She looks around the lot. No car is idling for her. Her parents are probably off on vacation again. Bonnie tugs the strap of her duffel tighter onto her shoulder and sighs. Middleton was several degrees cooler than Camp Wannaweep and her only good coat had been covered in fish goo. It was going to be an uncomfortable walk.

“Angelus James Kostrama Possible!” Bonnie hears Kim say. It makes her let out a little noise of surprise. She didn’t know that was Ange’s full name. Bonnie turns around in time to see Kim stomp over to Ange, who is leaning against the same light pole as Monday. Idly, Bonnie notices that Kim and Ron’s parents aren’t waiting for them either. At least Ron had his shitty scooter to get home on. He’d left it unlocked by the bike rack. It doesn’t surprise Bonnie that no one wanted to steal it.

“Kim!” Ange pushes off from the pole with a beaming smile. Either she doesn’t realize how apocalyptic Kim is, or she’s ignoring it. “I missed you so much!” 

Something in Bonnie’s chest starts to hurt. 

Ange pulls Kim into a hug that lifts Kim completely from the ground. Even as Kim starts to yell, Ange spins them around. “How could you go after Drakken and Shego?!” Kim snarls at her sister, feet dangling in circles off the ground. “Don’t you realize how dangerous Shego is?”

“Oh, yeah.” Eventually, Ange sets her favorite sibling back onto solid ground. Kim, having been glaring at Ange the entire time, places her fists on each hip and starts to look a little intimidating. “Shego’s scary. How do you deal with that?” Finally, Ange leans down and plants a sweet kiss on Kim’s cheek.

“Well, I just kind of do.” Kim breaks. With ruddy cheeks and a softening glare, she tentatively reaches out and clutches at Ange’s sleeve. Bonnie notices that Ange is wearing a large, white pullover hoodie that looks particularly soft. “I’m glad you’re okay. Please don’t go after the bigger villains without me next time.” The cuteness in Kim’s tone makes Ange coo. 

“Sure, sis.” It makes Kim sag with relief. “Can I go on your search and rescue missions too?” 

The smile that breaks out on Kim’s face could power a city. The pang in Bonnie’s chest grows too strong to ignore. She turns around and starts her long trek home. 

Chapter Text

Bonnie makes it about thirty feet before Ange calls her name. Her voice is closer than anticipated, and Bonnie is startled to find Ange only a yard or two behind her when she turns around. When had Ange started to move without noise? Yet there Ange is, walking her bike in both hands behind Bonnie with a beaming smile. Bonnie matches it with a scowl, but she still stops in place and lets Ange catch up to her. 

“What do you want, Possible?” Her tone is as sharp as a blade. Ange’s excited smile melts into something gentler as she analyzes Bonnie. Bonnie makes sure to keep herself obsidian smooth under the scrutiny. 

Two can play this game. She looks Ange up and down, taking her in. Her hair is up in a messy ponytail. It doesn’t look bad, but it could be better. A large, comfortable white hoodie that looks incredibly soft drapes against Ange’s frame. The scrapes on Ange’s hands are back, fresh red against brown. That was a bit worrying. To Bonnie’s annoyance, Ange is wearing the black joggers she had gotten last Saturday at Club Banana. Bonnie ignores how well they highlight the length of Ange’s legs. She got on chunky blue sneakers this time, at least there’s some kind of variety. When she looks back up, she comes face to face with two warm blue eyes waiting patiently for her.

Once her attention is on Ange’s face again, Ange speaks. “I missed you,” she says softly. It sounds like she means it, too. Then, Ange reaches out and encircles Bonnie’s waist with one arm. She easily pulls Bonnie against her side, muffling the sudden catch in Bonnie’s throat with a shoulder. Bonnie’s world is enveloped in a subtle chocolate spicy scent. It takes her a moment, but she eventually decides to wrap both of her arms around Ange’s torso.

It’s warm.

“Maybe I missed you too,” Bonnie finally manages to say. She’s hoping Ange can’t hear her. A silent laugh makes Ange’s frame shake against her. Damn.

“I’ll take what I can get,” Ange says. She pulls back first in order to tidy a stray lock of Bonnie’s hair. “I’m sorry you couldn’t make it to Regionals. Did a mutant fish guy really goo you?”

Turquoise eyes give Ange an unimpressed stare. “Dont phrase it like that,” Bonnie says, watching as Ange tugs at the strap of her duffel bag. Bonnie allows the silent request, and Ange temporarily rests it on the seat of her dented up mountain bike. “It’s whatever.” Disappointment tinges Bonnie’s tone. “We’ll make it next year, anyway. The worst part was honestly the camp itself. I bet I still smell like swamp.”

“No, you smell really nice.” Ange says lightly. Bonnie looks at Ange until her cheeks go red. “W-what? I’m just telling the truth!” Ange tugs the collar of her warm looking sweater. Bonnie shivers a little in the fall air. “Is that weird? I don’t know what’s weird yet. You haven’t taught me,” she points out with an air of finality. “Since you were too busy getting covered in fish goo at Camp Wannaweep. Which, in my opinion, sounds way weirder.”

“OMG, Ange.” Bonnie reaches over to flick her shoulder. “You are such a freak.” Puffs of laughter sap the sting out of her words. “Give me your hoodie.” 

It was certainly interesting how Ange doesn’t even seem to think about it before she moves. She pops open the kickstand of her bike so both hands are free to tug her sweater up over her head. Bonnie sees something else interesting too. When Ange places her hoodie into Bonnie’s hands - Bonnie needs to schedule another spa appointment, They were looking a little rough, one of her nails was even chipped - Bonnie quickly slides into it. She lets out a satisfied sigh. It was as soft and warm and big as she anticipated. 

If it smells nice, well, she isn’t going to say anything. She’s not a freak.

Time to test her theory. “Lift your shirt for me,” Bonnie says, waiting expectantly. As anticipated, Ange hooks her fingers under the bottom of her fitted t-shirt and pulls it upwards. To her credit, she does look at Bonnie in confusion.

“Is there something wrong?”

Bonnie’s smirking eyes go from staring at Ange’s face from under her lashes to Ange’s newly exposed stomach. “No, nothing,” She says, wondering how many more commands she can give to Ange before Ange catches on. Instead, Bonnie reaches over to trace a fingertip down the warm plane of Ange’s developing abdominals. They instantly flex rigid with surprise under her touch. “You should keep up your workout routine. It’s doing wonders.”

Ange lets out some kind of strangled noise deep from her throat. She was definitely not used to being touched, Bonnie concludes. Bonnie looks up in time to see Ange collecting herself. The vestige of an emotion she doesn’t have enough time to recognize fades out of Ange’s dark blue eyes. “Yeah, sure,” Ange says quickly. “The Bonnie approved workout is a go.” Maybe Ange was getting cold. Her cheeks were an odd shade of red. Bonnie still wasn’t going to give her the hoodie back, though. 

“Uhm,” Ange clears her throat then gestures to the rack atop her back bike wheel. “Do you want a ride home?” 

“You’re not taking Kim back?” Bonnie looks around the parking lot. To her surprise, no one is there anymore. It’s just the two of them on an empty expanse of cold cement.

“She said she was going to stop by Bueno Nacho first. Something, something, Ron needs his fix.” Ange pulls a face, but her tone is amused. “I think that guy has nacho cheese for blood.” Bonnie hums out her agreement. Ron was probably eighty percent inauthentic Mexican food. She sees him sitting in a booth literally every time she decides to go. 

Bonnie looks at Ange’s mountain bike. Flaking and scratched up red paint, with dents along the frame, if it were anyone else she would have refused immediately. Normally, there was no way she would be caught dead on such a shitty vehicle. Normally. 

She looks back up at Ange’s face. Deep, warm eyes peeking out from messy copper bangs, a long curved nose, balanced lips pulled into an expectant smile. What was it about her that made Ange look at her so carefully? No matter how much she thinks, she can’t find a satisfactory answer. It would be an interesting mystery for her to figure out, Bonnie muses. One for another time. Instead, she gives Ange a haughty sigh. 

“Alright, Possible. If you insist, I’ll take you up on it,” Bonnie says it like she’s the one doing Ange a favor. Ange grins and hooks Bonnie’s duffel over her shoulder. A long leg swings over the chassis. The kickstand closes with a small click. Finally, she nudges her head at the rack.

“Hold on, kay?” Bonnie arranges herself daintily on the surface. It’s not the most comfortable seat in the world. She wraps an arm around Ange’s warm stomach for balance and decides to let it slide this one time. Ange pushes off the ground. The wind catches in their hair as they gain speed, cool and refreshing now that she’s wearing a proper sweater. Bonnie watches the sunset start to paint dramatic clouds a fiery orange and doesn’t notice the content smile that settles on her perfect, cherry glossed lips.

---

A deep rumble greets Ange and her passenger as she pulls up to the Rockwaller household. As she cruises her bike to a gentle halt, she sees what’s responsible for such a noise. Brick Flagg is waiting for them from the driveway. His large Harley motorcycle is idling underneath him and he has a dopey smile on his face. Ange’s smile slides from her own.

She can see the moment he spots them. He turns the motorbike off with a twist of his key, plunging the neighborhood in silence. Brick lights up the way a puppy might and he hops off of his vehicle, also the way a puppy might. He recovers from his little stumble with a cool flick of his hair. Ange can also feel the moment Bonnie catches sight of him, because her hand flexes tense against Ange’s shirt for just a brief moment. It’s a movement that makes Ange’s hackles raise protectively.

Despite it, Bonnie still slides off of the bike rack, leaving Ange’s stomach feeling cold and empty. She watches as Bonnie lets out a pleased little squeal and takes a running jump into Brick’s massive arms. He catches her easily, spinning them around once. The sudden, dark snarl that threatens to rip out of Ange’s throat surprises her. Where had that come from? She falls back on old habits and smooths her face into an unreadable smile. Ange pops her kickstand open and unhooks her leg from her bike, all while keeping her eyes trained on the apparent couple reuniting on Bonnie’s front yard. 

“Bonnie!” Brick says with a laugh. “It’s been forever.” Finally, he sets Bonnie onto her feet. Ange wonders why she feels like she’s a caged dog, baring teeth but unable to hunt. The smile on Bonnie’s face, bright and wide, sends something cold running down Ange’s spine. She’s never smiled at Ange like that.

‘Oh, Brick,” Bonnie sighs. “Camp Wannaweep was awful. Some fish guy kidnapped us!”

“Woah, I didn’t know fish slept,” Brick says. Bonnie and Ange blink simultaneously at him. “Don’t they have to swim all the time?” Ange looks at Bonnie with wide, confused eyes. Bonnie glances her way, then looks back at Brick with a slightly more strained smile. 

“Brick, sweetie, that’s not what I meant.” When Brick gives her big eyed stare, Bonnie decides to move the subject along. “It’s nice to see you, though.” That brings that dopey grin back onto Brick’s face. “What brings you around?”

“I know we aren’t like, official yet,” he runs his hand shyly through his thick blonde hair. Ange begrudgingly admits that Brick was quite handsome, if you were into stupid men (apparently, Bonnie was). “Buuut, I was able to get a reservation at, uh, La Chaty, that I wanted to surprise you with.” Brick gets another begrudging point in his favor. For some reason, Ange had been hoping he was unlikable. Guilt makes her chew on her lower lip. Le Chateau is a very nice restaurant on the nicest side of Middleton. Getting a reservation there was harder than it looked. 

Bonnie lets out a genuine squeal of excitement, once again jumping into Brick’s arms. Ange lets out a sigh of defeat, and refuses to analyze why. Instead, she unhooks Bonnie’s duffel bag from her shoulder and starts walking up to the couple. “I hate-” Ange freezes, then immediately adds more warmth into her voice. “-to ruin the moment.” The two break apart to look at her. Brick has a grin on his face. Bonnie is watching her. Ange makes sure to give her a pleased smile, then hands the duffel to her. “Just stay safe out there, alright?” Bonnie takes the strap in her beautiful hands, but her turquoise eyes are trained on Ange’s face. 

“No problem!” In a surprising move, Brick pats Ange on her shoulder. “Thanks for bringing Bonnie home in one piece, Ange. I owe you one.” 

Ange looks him in the eye and grins. She’s careful not to show too many teeth. “That’s what friends are for.” Ange turns to leave when Bonnie reaches out and grabs her hand. It makes Ange go still before she turns her attention towards the girl. Her eyes are deliberately soft.

“Let's meet up tomorrow,” Bonnie says with a satisfied gleam in her voice. She’s smiling too. “The mall, nine in the morning, Club Banana.” Damn, Ange had been hoping to sleep in. “I still need to choose more outfits for you.” For the second time that night, Ange lets out another defeated sigh. Saying no isn’t even a thought that crosses her mind. Besides, she does owe Bonnie.

“Go easy on me?” Ange tries her best to widen her eyes. From the look on Bonnie’s face, it doesn’t work. Kim was better at the puppy dog pout than she was, anyway.

“Not in a million years, Angie.” Bonnie grins up at Ange, and Ange gets the feeling Bonnie isn’t bothering to hide her teeth. It makes Ange smile and roll her eyes. 

“Have fun, Bonnie,” is what Ange manages to say. She motions back towards her own shitty bike. “I’m gonna head home.” She pulls her hand out of Bonnie’s gentle grip and turns around. Then, and only then, does she let the smile drop off of her face. Without her sweater, the ride home is as cold as it is dark.

Chapter Text

“-And then I almost ripped his face off.” Ange was in her attic, sitting on Kim’s bottom bunk. Kim was next to her, resting the back of her head on Ange’s thigh. A magazine lay forgotten on her bare midriff as she listened to her younger sister. Idly, Ange ran her fingers through Kim’s red hair, but her face was twisted up in frustration. She knew Kim enjoyed that kind of attention. “I don’t get it. All he did was hug her.”

Kim lets out little noise, analyzing Ange faster than Ange herself - for once. “It sounds like you got jealous.” She says diplomatically. It only makes the frustration on Ange’s face mold into something more confused, and maybe a little worried.

“But, why?” Ange says, cheeks puffing out in one big whoosh. It takes a few seconds of being subjected to Kim’s narrowed eyed stare before Ange starts fidgeting uncomfortably. “W-what? What is it?” 

That makes Kim blink. She pushes herself onto her knees, leaning in to observe Ange’s face at a closer angle. “...Wow, you don’t realize it.” 

“What? I don’t realize what?” Ange shrinks away, suddenly shy. That feeling just confuses Ange even more. Usually she was so much better at keeping herself in check. Compounding on her helpless feelings, Kim starts giggling at her, which is really just rude. Kim’s shoulders shake up and down with each gasp.

“Angie,” was Ange imagining the slight lilt of tease in Kim’s voice? No. The way Kim starts smirking at her confirms it, and also makes Ange pout. “You like her.”

“Of course I like her. She’s my friend.” For some reason, that triggers another bout of giggling from Kim. Normally Ange enjoys it when Kim laughs.

“No, Ange, you like her. As in, a crush.” 

It makes Ange’s mouth drop open in surprise. Blue eyes go wide as Ange quietly digests that revelation. Then, she lets out a little snort of amusement. “Kim,” Ange says, shaking her head dismissively. “Don’t be silly. Just because I like girls doesn’t mean I like my first girl friend-” Her tone quickens at her slip up. “Friend who is a girl! She is my friend who is a girl.” She says with an air of finality.

Ange can only give a deadpan sigh when Kim has to lay down to catch her breath. “No, Angie. Like, don’t you think she’s pretty?” Which is honestly just a stupid question to ask.

“So what? I think plenty of girls are pretty. That doesn’t mean I have a crush on them.” Ange gestures towards Kim with both of her hands. “I think you’re very beautiful, for instance.” Her attempt to distract Kim works, if only temporarily. Kim leans over and gives Ange a sweet kiss onto a warm cheek.

“You’re pretty, too,” Kim says. Ange gives a grin as wide as a cheshire. “And in denial.” It falls off of her face.

“So not!” Ange says.

“So are!” Kim says.

“So not!” Ange says, reaching behind her for Kim’s pillow.

“So ar- OOMPH!” Kim says, taking a cushiony blow to the face. Instinct and lightning fast reflexes take over. Kim rolls with the strike right onto her feet, then hops into the air high enough to grab Ange’s own pillow from the top bunk. “Oh, Angie.” Her feet hit the ground without a noise. “You’re crushing hard.” Ange pushes off the bed with her legs, clutching Kim’s pilfered pillow against her chest like a shield. “And I’m going to convince you,” The two siblings square off. A modern day Mexican standoff. “Even if I have to beat it into you.”

---

Another Saturday, another trip to the mall, another ungodly early morning hour. Nine in the morning should never exist. If Ange had her way, society would start their day at three in the afternoon. Yet, here she was, trudging her way into the tranquil plaza that was the early morning Middleton mall. The things she did for her friends - and Bonnie was her friend, no matter how much Kim insisted otherwise.

Ange lets out a desolate sigh. She had really loved her pillow.

Club Banana came closer with each step. Ange could smell the new clothes scent from outside of the store. New clothes and a gentle undertone of floral and spice. Her stomach does a pleasant flip when her eyes lock onto Bonnie, who is busy texting on her phone. A teal three quarter sleeve jacket, a white tank-top, and a matching white skirt that stops just above her mid-thigh. It was a lovely outfit.

Ange stood by her opinion from last night. Bonnie is very pretty.

“Hi, Bonnie,” Ange says. When Bonnie flinches, Ange makes a mental note to walk louder around her. “Good morning. Did you have a good time at Le Chateau last night?” Ange didn’t really want to hear about it, but it would be impolite to ask. Bonnie slips her phone away and gives Ange a once over.

“It was just fine,” Bonnie says, nodding in satisfaction. This morning, Ange had put on the bowknot pants and sleeveless blouse they'd gotten together before Camp Wannaweep. She was still figuring out how to navigate the pumps. The outfit wasn’t exactly her, though it fit better than she’d anticipated. “But let's not stray from the subject.” Bonnie slides one of her slender arms around the crook of Ange’s elbow. “I still haven’t had my way with you.”

As Bonnie drags her into Club Banana, Ange tries her best to think innocent thoughts.

Monique sees them when they enter. Bonnie is too busy dragging Ange towards the vast women’s section to notice how Monique points her face to the ceiling and sighs. Ange gives her a sheepish smile and a little wave as they pass by. Thankfully, Monique likes her enough to give her a wave back, even if it looks like an unhappy one. 

When Ange turns her attention back to Bonnie, a chill runs down her spine. A slender finger taps against Bonnie’s chin as her turquoise eyes scan a large array of skirts. Some of them are long, others are so short Ange wonders how they’re even legal to sell. All of them are garments she hasn’t worn since she was five, back when her parents still dressed her up.

“Uh, Bonnie?” Ange has to clear her throat to hide the nervous crack in her voice. She can tell it isn’t good enough, because Bonnie slides her eyes over to observe Ange without moving her head. Ange gives her a most normal smile. “Do you, er, we have to start in this section?” Ange sweeps her free arm towards the miles and miles of non-skirt related women’s clothing that graces the racks of Club Banana. “When there’s so much more to explore.”

To her horror, she’s managed to catch all of Bonnie’s attention. She turns her entire body to look at Ange. The hint of a smirk flirts onto Bonnie’s mouth. “Sure we can, Angie.” Bonnie says, voice as light as air. “I mean, if you’re fine reneging on me. I think I see Monique over there and I really feel like her choice to wear that top with those shorts is really… inspired.” 

“I get it,” Ange says. Somehow, Bonnie always had her on the back foot… No, best not to lie to herself. Ange just didn’t bother getting out of that position. “I’m your living dress up doll. Also, I think Monique looks wonderful in her outfit.”

Bonnie rolls her eyes. Of course she did, but Bonnie had needed to prove a point. She takes a few choice skirts from the rack and shoves them into Ange’s chest. “Just be good and carry the merchandise, Possible.”

---

“Hey, Bonnie?” Ange says, unsure. Bonnie looks up from her magazine to the changing room door. They were on outfit number six, and each one had drained a little of the light out of Ange’s blue eyes. She was such a drama queen. 

“Can you help me with a zipper?” 

Bonnie gets to her feet, exasperated. Only Possible could mess up putting on a dress. “Open up.” She slips into the little opening Ange makes for her.

In Ange’s defense, Club Banana had placed the tag unfortunately close to the zipper of the tie-waist blue floral dress Bonnie had picked out for her. 

The changing room is meant for one person. With two, it’s cramped and a little claustrophobic. Inside, Ange has her back to her, but through the mirror on the wall, turquoise and blue eyes lock gazes. It sends a small and confusing current through Bonnie’s chest. She swallows past a dry throat and looks away first. The sight she lands on is even more distracting. Slender, dense muscles ripple underneath the brown skin of Ange’s back every time she breathes. Heat radiates off of Ange’s body in waves. Ange’s scent settles as an intoxicating cloud over Bonnie’s mind. Why was it intoxicating?  

To serve as a distraction Bonnie fishes the tag out from the zipper and pulls the tab upwards. If her nail drags curiously along Ange’s spine, it’s purely by accident. She was trying to get Ange used to more touching anyway. 

By the way Ange strands ramrod straight, it doesn’t seem to be working. Baby steps. 

The tab hits the top of the dress, bringing the two pieces together. Suddenly, it’s pin-drop quiet. The electric hum of the overhead lights is all that Bonnie can hear. That, her own heartbeat, and Ange’s slightly erratic breathing. Very interesting. Bonnie has to clear her throat before she can trust her voice. The sudden noise prompts Ange to roll her shoulders in a way that has Bonnie admiring the flex of her back. “Show me,” Bonnie manages to say. She ignores how low her voice has dropped, and hopes that Ange does too. 

Thankfully, Ange doesn’t say anything. She turns to face Bonnie with a smooth and unreadably neutral smile on her face. Bonnie still notices the slight redness painting each of Ange’s ears. Bonnie grins up at her. “Not bad, Possible.” 

She had chosen a dress that was thigh length on purpose. It hadn’t escaped her how long and well shaped Ange’s legs were. Since it was such a crime to keep them hidden, most of the outfits Bonnie had picked out highlighted them instead. 

Bonnie slaps Ange’s hand away from tugging at the hem of her dress. “Stop that. You look great.”

“You think so?” Ange sounds so hopeful it’s actually a little pitiful.

“Ange, I don’t hang out with ugly people.” Bonnie says, hoping to build a little self-esteem in the girl. Judging from the bright smile that Ange gives her, it works. Then Ange has to go and open her mouth.

“Well, I think everyone is beautiful in their own way.” 

“Don’t ruin the moment, Possible.”

---

When they approach the counter, Monique is giving Bonnie a suspicious and stiff frown. It makes Bonnie stop short, then shoot a withering look at Ange. “How am I supposed to be nice to someone who’s looking at me like that?” Bonnie says, crossing one arm over the other. Setting the massive pile of clothes from her own arms down onto the counter, Ange just gives Bonnie an indulgent look.

“Hi Monique,” She says, fixing Monique with her friendliest smile. “It’s nice to see you. How’s your morning going? “ It gets Monique to stop frowning at Bonnie like that and look at her instead. That counts as a win in her book.

“Hey, Ange.” Monique seems to be catching on, because the polite smile on her face is more like an amused grin. “I’m doing great, girl. Thanks for asking.” As Monique speaks, she starts scanning in the cosmic amount of clothes presented to her. “I hope your weekend is going real smooth.”

“It’s just peachy.” Between the beeps, Ange turns an expectant gaze at Bonnie. Bonnie cocks her hip out onto her back foot and promptly loses the staring contest Ange starts with her.

“Augh,” She sniffs, examining her nails with disinterest. “Like, hi Monique. I’m glad you’re having a swell weekend.” Bonnie says, and gives herself a pat on the back for only sounding half as sarcastic as she feels. When she looks back up, Ange has raised an eyebrow at her. It makes Bonnie’s hands itch to grab a tweezer and go at them. Ange really didn’t care about her appearance (she was lucky that she was naturally pretty). “Seriously?” Bonnie finally says. When Ange nods at her, Bonnie stomps one of her feet to the floor. Whatever. “I guess it’s nice to see you too.”

Ange snickers. Monique bites her lip. “Likewise, I guess.”

Ange stops snickering when Bonnie turns murderous eyes towards her. Quickly, Bonnie reaches out to grab the last thing Monique has scanned through. “This one,” Bonnie says. The fear on Ange’s face brings a wicked smile to her face. “You’re wearing this one to school on Monday.”

Chapter Text

It’s forty-five minutes before school starts and Ange is still trying to forget the way Kim’s jaw had dropped when Ange had walked past her at the kitchen table. Ange was also trying to ignore the feeling of air on her bare legs, but that would be a constant reminder throughout the day (so a bit more of a challenging task). Maybe she should just accept it instead. Ange walks through the heavy double doors of the gymnasium with a little sigh. The things she did for her friends. 

Bonnie is inside already, back facing her. She must have gotten bored waiting, because she has her legs splayed wide against the floor in a deep side split. Her front presses perfectly flat against the wood floor, a display of flexibility that Ange hasn’t mastered yet. Ballerinas were something else. Since there’s practice after school today, Bonnie has her signature purple cheer skirt on, which makes Ange feel a little better about her own outfit. Bonnie is also wearing the soft white hoodie Ange had lent her Friday. There is some baser level of satisfaction Ange gets from it - and it definitely doesn’t mean she likes Bonnie.

Ange makes her next step deliberately loud. Bonnie twists her torso ninety degrees to her right to look at her. The smirk that breaks out on Bonnie’s face makes rabbit fear pluck at her heart rate. Bonnie must be able to sense it, because she takes extra long to look Ange up and down today. The attention forces a shiver along her spine. 

“I knew it would fit you,” Bonnie finally says. Ange can see the tip of a white canine dig into Bonnie’s lower lip. It presses a little harder when Bonnie’s gaze finally lands on her shoes. “You aren’t wearing the heels.” Bonnie bristles. Ange scratches the back of her neck sheepishly.

“Uh, I wasn’t brave enough to walk to school in them.” Ange kicks off her chunky blue sneakers (the red ones were for her missions now). “They’re right here,” Ange pulls her backpack off and fishes out the pair of four inch stilettos she’d stored at the top. White, to match the fitted long sleeve blouse Bonnie had chosen for her.

That mollifies Bonnie. She pulls herself out of her stretch and onto her feet with a dancing elegance even Kim doesn’t have. A manicured eyebrow cocks upwards. “What is it?” 

“Hmm-” Ange mumbles, then realizes she’s staring. “Just- er… Wondering what you’re going to make me look like.” Phew, that was close.

To keep herself distracted, Ange scans the room. Bonnie’s bag is propped against one of the metal bleachers, half open. She can see the handle of a hairbrush poking out of the top. A slender finger enters her line of vision, pointing at it. “Sit,” Bonnie says. Ange makes her way over to the bleachers, then tucks her skirt underneath her as she sits. A move she’s seen Bonnie do dozens of times now. The metal is cool where it presses up against her thighs. “I’m going to make you fucking irresistible.” Bonnie follows her, kneeling to rummage through her pack.

Turquoise eyes are already rolling when Ange murmurs her dutiful reminder. “Language.”

“Get a new catchphrase, Ange.” Bonnie pulls out several shades of... well, Ange knows for certain it’s makeup at least, and starts to compare them against Ange’s face. “That one is so three decades ago.” 

“You could stop cussing,” Ange grins at Bonnie’s unamused huff. “Or we could both live with each other and our faults.” 

The thought process behind Bonnie’s decision is a mystery to Ange. She picks out a particular tube and grabs a big fluffy brush. “Maybe you have faults.” Bonnie’s haughty tone is comforting in its familiarity at this point. She leans her entire torso closer to Ange, until their faces are only a few inches apart. Perfume floats a cloud into Ange’s mind. At this distance, Ange can see little flecks of both hazel and ice white in Bonnie’s irises. “I’m actually perfect,” says Bonnie’s perfect lips. Ange nods in agreement, and gets a flick to her shoulder. “Stop moving, dork.” 

Ange sticks out her tongue instead.

A hand falls flat on the inside of Ange’s shoulder and pushes. It takes a moment before Ange decides to let Bonnie press her backwards into the bleacher seat. Narrowed turquoise eyes pin her in place as Bonnie clambers onto Ange’s lap. It makes Ange’s heart do a little Yippieeee, even as Ange tries to figure out what’s going on. Warm thighs on warm thighs on a cold metal seat. 

“If you don’t behave,” Bonnie’s voice grinds out of her throat as she reaches for something else in her backpack. Ange isn’t really paying attention to it anymore. “I’m going to make you look fucking awful instead.” Bonnie’s weight feels perfect pressing on her lap. 

“...I really don’t think you will,” Ange murmurs, trying to keep up. “If you do my makeup badly, how will the school react when I tell them you did this to me-” Bonnie reaches down and starts plucking at the errant hairs of Ange’s eyebrows. “-OW! Hey!” It makes Bonnie’s lips curl into a fox-grin.

“A good point…” The way Ange twitches underneath her with each tug only adds to Bonnie’s satisfaction. Keep the natural curve, take out the excess. Eyebrows were tricky. One hair could make or break them. Bonnie lets her voice fall into something light and purring. “But do you really want to test someone who has your eyebrows at their mercy, Angie?” It makes Ange quiver.

“I’ll be good,” Ange finally chokes out. No one could say she wasn’t smart.

---

Mondays were always miserable affairs at Middleton high. Especially Monday mornings, which signaled the start of the five day long slog leading to the best part of the week - Friday afternoon. Even Donavan couldn’t find the joy in it, as much as he enjoyed learning all things STEM as a whole. Unlike Angelus, he had to look over his shoulders in these halls. Someone might push him into a locker and latch the door behind him.

Those things were cold and dark.

Donavan feels a little ache in his chest at the thought of Angelus. She was such a warm and sweet girl. It should have been obvious that he would eventually develop… feelings for her. Yet, it was somehow as much of a surprise to him as it was to her. It should have been obvious that she would reject him, too. As much as she denied it, they both knew that she was way out of his league. If she wanted to, she could find a better friend (or lover) than him easily. 

But she always kept coming back to his locker in the mornings. And for some reason, she tolerated him seeking her out at her locker too. Donavan hadn’t stood a chance against it. 

Now, every time he thinks about Angelus, it would reopen the wound in his heart. It took an entire week for him to wrestle it into something manageable. Finally, he was starting to feel better - or as good as one could in this situation. At the very least, he’s ready to face the music. Donavan hadn’t gone to Angelus’ locker for an entire week. He’s starting to miss the place. 

When he finishes the familiar trek down the halls, there’s someone there that he doesn’t recognize.

White stiletto heels balance two tanned and distractingly long legs. They’re topped by an ocean blue skirt that ends inches above the mid thigh. Every time the girl shifts, it floats like leaves around her thighs. A fitted white blouse drapes from her shoulders, contrasting against tidy copper-brown hair. When she turns to something - he’s not paying attention to what - Donavan is graced with cherry lip gloss, elegant cat’s eye eyeliner, and smooth skin that peaks out from under her shirt. A shirt that could be buttoned one more than it currently is, not that he’s going to complain. Donavan’s jaw hits the floor before he can help himself. 

“I feel like I’m going to fall and break my nose,” a familiar voice calls out. That finally catches his attention. It’s impolite to stare, anyways. Donavan rips his eyes away from her to look around for Ange. Instead, he sees more than one person openly gawking at the girl.

“Oh, if you do, I want to watch,” that’s another familiar voice. A scarier one. Now that Donavan isn’t entranced, he notices Bonnie besides the girl. Bonnie is leaning on the locker wall, arms crossed, but with an amused little grin tugging at her lips. Her legs are also distracting, but she’s way too scary to be considered like that. “It’s really not that hard, though. Just align your knees with your heels when you walk.” 

The girl takes a cautious step, then blinks at Bonnie owlishly. “Is that seriously it?” 

Bonnie nods. “The frustrating part is just getting the muscle memory to stick-” Her voice trails off as the girl starts walking in circles, each stride slightly more graceful than the next. The amusement slides off of Bonnie’s face, replaced by deadpan annoyance. “How the fuck do you do that, Possible?”

“Language,” the girl shoots back. Donavan lets out some kind of noise he wouldn’t be able to identify under threat of violence. Was that… “Do you mean walking in heels for the very first time, or just my general ability to pick up physical skills quickly?” It couldn’t be, but Donavan didn’t know anyone else who spoke like that. 

“Don’t rub it in, Angie. Not everyone is a freak like you.” Bonnie reaches over and stabs her finger into Ange’s side. The jab makes Donavan clench his fists. Ange yelps, wobbles dangerously on her stilettos, and grabs at the wall to recover. 

Then she looks down at Bonnie and laughs. 

Donavan freezes mid stride.

“It runs in the family. A lot of my talent does. Kim has it better than me, though.” Ange says. Whatever is happening between the two girls seems like a dance that has happened more than once. She doesn’t give that permissive grin to just anyone. “However, I do have several traits that aren't expressed in her. They very likely come from my mama instead.” Bonnie motions with her head for Ange to continue. Instead, a flush starts coloring the tips of Ange’s ears. “...I’m not gonna say.”

Ange looks towards her locker and starts turning the dial. It must be to ignore how Bonnie leans back, places both of her hands on her hips, and shoots a scowl at Ange that would kill a lesser man. “You are not seriously holding out on me, Possible.”

Donavan watches the door swing open. 

“Not saying it,” Ange replies with finality. She points her chin towards the air to prove her point. 

Then, Ange reaches in past the door and grabs her English Literature textbook. 

Bonnie regards her with the silent lethality of a large cat. 

Somehow, Ange manages to ignore it. Instead, she places her book into her backpack. Once it is zipped up, she leans in close enough to brush her forehead against Bonnie’s. The smirk Ange gives her is bewitching. “I need to keep some mystery, Rockwaller.” Ange maintains eye contact as she turns towards the hallway that will lead them to English Lit. “How else will I get you to keep coming around?” 

The statement draws out a dismissive snort from Bonnie. 

When Ange stands back up to her full height and looks ahead, Donavan is no longer there.

She misses something else, too. As Ange starts walking Bonnie to class, Bonnie doesn’t take her eyes off of her.

---

During lunch, Tara likes to play with her hair. Bonnie lets her arrange it into a beautiful pleat, then brush it out with her fingers and do it again. It’s the most relaxing part of this period.

The cafeteria is loud - always loud. It’s stuffed full of hungry teens that happily shove whatever it is that the lunch ladies call food into their mouths. By now, each table has its regulars. The chess club sits on the outskirts besides the delinquents. A few unimportant cliques serve as a barrier between them and the it people of Middleton High. Kim is somewhere in that drivel, but Bonnie isn’t bothering to keep that girl on her radar.

Bonnie is, of course, sitting at the best spot at the biggest and best table in the room. It’s really two tables that some of the boys on the football team had pushed together. It means that all the best people in school are able to gather around and catch up on whatever gossip they’d missed since the last school day. A few seats down, Keon is busy spilling the beans about who slept with who at Lucas’ party Saturday night. Bonnie tunes it out. She’d been there.

Instead, she scans her eyes across the crowd. There was a distinct lack of a certain someone Bonnie had been hoping to show off. Now that she thinks about it, Bonnie doesn’t recall seeing Ange in the cafeteria at all this year. Not that she had really been paying attention until now. 

Bonnie pulls her lovingly maintained phone out and opens up her texts. Ange’s name is four or five people down. Sometimes, Ange would instantly respond to Bonnie’s messages. It left them with a long chain of conversation that Bonnie sometimes scrolled through if she got bored - Ange was pretty funny to talk to (Bonnie is saving that compliment for a special occasion). Sometimes, Bonnie would send a text to Ange and it would be radio silence for the rest of the day - which was just confusing. It’s not like Ange had much of a social life. Something that Bonnie would soon change.

”Where are you?” Bonnie sends the message out as Tara finishes up her latest braid. A French pleat that runs down the side of her head and just over her right shoulder. Bonnie takes out her compact to look it over.  “Not bad.” Bonnie catches Tara’s soft features crinkle with joy through the mirror. It’s cute enough that Bonnie adds something else. “You would wear it better than me.” Tara bumps a pleased shoulder against her as her phone buzzes on the table. Bonnie sees Ange’s name when she flips it open.

“Hi Bonnie. I’m in the library. Did you know that Dugongs are more closely related to Elephants than they are to whales? I hope you’re enjoying your lunch.” 

Bonnie rolls her eyes and sighs. She could take the Ange out of the nerd, but not the nerd out of the Ange.

“I didn’t.” She doesn’t even know what a Dugong is. If she asks, Ange would send her a full fucking essay about it. That’s not how Bonnie wants to spend today’s lunch period. 

“Come to the cafeteria.” Bonnie continues. Tara rests her chin on Bonnie’s shoulder, peeking at Bonnie’s phone screen. Tara and only Tara can get away with doing that. It’s just her luck that Ange happens to give her the weirdest reply on god's green earth at the same time.

”See? I knew you’d crawl back to me if I kept my secrets.” 

Tara starts giggling in Bonnie’s ear. The sound is nice enough to leave it numb. “Do I want to know?” Tara murmurs. Bonnie clicks her tongue.

”You’re crawling to me, Possible. Now.” Bonnie texts back, then tilts her head enough to glance side-long at the blonde. “Tara, even I don’t know what’s going on in that girl’s head.” It brings a hint of mischief to Tara’s blue eyes. There was a reason Tara was Bonnie’s closest friend. Bonnie smirks at what she says next.

“Let's figure it out, then.”

Chapter Text

Bonnie is a queen. That’s the first thought Ange has when she finally sees the brunette in the crowded cafeteria. Which is embarrassingly gay of her to think, even if the description fits. Bonnie sits neatly on her chair like a throne. When she looks up from her phone to say something, the entire table listens. It’s something funny, because they start laughing a low rumble that’s added to the background noise of the lunch room. And the lunch room was always loud. 

Besides Bonnie, Tara leans against her shoulder. They’re close enough that their sides are pressed together. Ange decides to stop thinking about girls and sides and pressing before she gets flustered. Instead, she makes her way towards the table in the middle of the cafeteria. The crowd parts around her like the Red Sea. It almost makes Ange stumble. 

Since Bonnie had worked her magic on Ange this morning, Ange has noticed that she’s being treated like she’s something… different. People open doors for her. boys stare at her. girls do too, but in like, a measured kind of way. Everyone was approximately thirty to forty percent more friendly towards her. In this mini skirt and blouse combo, Ange is pretty sure she could walk up to anyone in this room and convince them to give her their lunch. It’s a type of power she never knew existed, let alone wielded. One that compels her to walk with a straight back and smooth steps (that could just be the stilettos demanding their care). 

It’s kind of fun. Maybe this is why Bonnie is like that.

“Hi guys,” Ange greets cheerfully. Her backpack is thrown over one shoulder, her hip naturally tilts to one side, her blue eyes sweep over the entire table as it goes quiet. More than one person opens their mouth in shock. Even Tara widens her eyes when she finally catches sight of Ange. Bonnie gives her a side long fox smile that Ange can’t help but mirror. A part of her wonders if it’s weird that she isn’t more self-conscious about all this, but she ends up dismissing it. The attention wasn’t something she necessarily enjoyed, but it was too interesting not to experiment with. “There’s not something on my face, is there?” She ends up saying to break them out of their reverie. It works, somewhat.

“No way, you look great!” A girl sitting across from Bonnie chimes in. She has black hair that cascades down her back in glamorous curls. Ange idly wonders what they feel like. Before she can reply, one of the boys - Riley from the lacrosse team? - stands up quickly. 

“Hey, you’re Ange, right?” He has a charming smile and handsome brown eyes. “Lemme go grab you a seat.” A kind gesture that Ange doesn’t want to accept. 

She gives him a little grin, then steps over to Bonnie’s other side. “Sure, I’ll sit right here. Thank you.” It makes Riley stop for just a moment in surprise before he goes off to find something for Ange to sit on. Ange watches him for a moment before she turns her attention to Bonnie. 

Her turquoise eyes are as focused as a laser onto Ange’s face. It was a novel feeling, being on the other end of a stare like that. Ange considers closing herself into something unreadable. Instead, she looks past Bonnie to give Tara a sweet smile. One that is happily returned, to Ange’s delight. She adjusts her attention back to Bonnie. One of Bonnie’s eyebrows has risen with intrigue in the time Ange has looked away. 

Ange gives her a grin that makes Bonnie’s eyes widen with alarm before she strikes. “So, what’s going on in this shindig?” 

Some of the people at the table groan. Bonnie facepalms. Tara snorts out an amused breath. Riley arrives just in time to look at everyone, confused. Ange breaks out into giggles as she takes her acquired seat. “Sorry, sorry, I won’t say it again.” She sets her lunchpack on the table. “I couldn’t help myself. You all looked so serious it was making me nervous.”

To be fair, it does break the tension completely. Ange can even see a few of the people she’d offended start to chuckle. They return to whatever conversations they had been having prior to Ange’s arrival. Bonnie peaks at her from between her fingers.  Ange can tell Bonnie realizes she did all of it with purpose by the way her eyes narrow into something thoughtful. She gives Bonnie a blue eyed wink.

“Hey, Angie,” Tara says from over Bonnie’s shoulder. “That’s a really nice outfit. Why the sudden change?”

“Ah, what a lovely question,” Ange leans back in her chair, pointing a sly finger towards Bonnie. “You can blame her. For the next two weeks, I belong to Bonnie.” Tara tilts her head as she digests the information. 

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Bonnie sits back up with a haughty sniff. “You look way better in this than your normal wear. Whatever sorry excuse of a fashion sense that is.”  

“I disagree,” Ange crosses one leg over the other, mimicking the way she’s seen Kim sit a few times. “It’s just different, and a bit more classic.” The way she looks at her nails is all Bonnie. “Though I don’t know enough about fashion to have that much of an informed opinion.” 

“Trust me, that’s obvious.” Bonnie deadpans. 

“I like how you dress, Ange.” Tara speaks up. Bonnie gives her an annoyed stare that she ignores. “It’s very you.” Well, Ange was still figuring that part out. It doesn’t stop her from throwing a grateful smile to Tara. 

“It’s mediocre at best,” Bonnie reaches over and starts rummaging through Ange’s lunchpack. She pulls out the tupperware full of broccoli chicken and the chopsticks Ange had packed that morning. “I wouldn’t be caught dead in it.” 

“Is that so?” Ange says. In front of Bonnie is a lunch tray full of untouched mystery meat. Ange decides to let Bonnie do as she pleases. It’ll make up for her teasing. “Then can I have my hoodie back?” A piece of broccoli freezes half way between the tupperware and Bonnie’s lips. Tara’s eyes lock onto the soft, too large, white hoodie Bonnie has been wearing all day. Ange goes back to looking at her nails. 

“Actually, nevermind,” Ange says lightly. “I don’t think it’ll go with my outfit.”

---

Bonnie is sitting on her desk when Ange walks into the Chemistry classroom. She’s pointedly not wearing a hoodie, but Ange can see that her bag is stuffed a little more tightly than normal. Ange is helpless against the excited grin that breaks out across her face. The six other girls, including Tara, are surrounding her as they all talk amongst themselves. Ange practically skips over to them - carefully, because heels still scare her.

She sits her backpack in front of her chair. Bonnie watches her settle on top of the desk right next to her with a smirk that promises trouble.

“Hi girls,” Ange eyes Bonnie cautiously. It only makes Bonnie’s smug aura thicker - or whatever. It’s hard to come up with a good allusion when she has Bonnie’s full attention. “What’s going on?” The girls greet her with some worrying giggles.

“Angie,” Bonnie starts first, sweet as pie. “We were just talking about boys.” Ah, this again. The smile on her face becomes a little harder to keep.  It shouldn’t surprise her so much. Girls liked boys. Ange was the odd one out here. 

Tara reaches over from her seat to nudge at Ange’s thigh. Her hand is small and soft. It feels unfairly nice. “Has anyone caught your eye?” Tara probes. Ange looks from Tara’s hand, to her face, to all the faces around her, and wonders how bad the fallout would be if she just came out and told them all that she preferred women.

“I can’t say that any of the boys have,” Ange says, trying to sound natural. And if she doesn’t, she prays they mistake whatever waver they may hear as nervousness and not fear.

“Riley asked about you after lunch,” Bonnie says as she rests a casual arm onto Ange’s shoulder. Bonnie is watching her with intent. This time, Ange lets herself become unreadable. “He was hoping he could get your number.” 

“Then he should ask me himself,” Ange says after a deliberate hesitation. “Going through someone else isn’t a good look.” 

Some of the girls make ‘oohs’. Bonnie clicks her tongue, but it’s with approval. The way Bonnie lifts her chin at Ange is almost proud. Despite how caged Ange feels, it still makes something fuzzy dance around her chest. Was that pathetic? She couldn’t tell.

“I told him that too. He’ll probably ask you out sometime soon.” Bonnie says. Then, she lowers her voice, leaning in to whisper. Ange can feel Bonnie’s warm breath brush against the shell of her ear and she just knows it’s gone bright red. “I can teach you everything you need to know about dating.” Ange isn’t sure if she wants to laugh or cry at that. She settles on silence. “I’d hate for you to embarrass yourself.” Bonnie pulls back, obviously pleased with herself.

“Oh,” is the only thing Ange can bring herself to say. Just enough time passes for the silence to last too long. Then Mrs. Tomic enters the room and starts class. For once, Ange doesn’t want to scrutinize the look on Bonnie’s face as Bonnie heads to her desk to sit besides Brick. Habit makes her anyway.

Confusion and evaluation. 

Ange might be in trouble.

---

The Kimmunicator in Ange’s backpack goes off five minutes before the end of class. Ange gives Mrs. Tomic a sheepish smile as she slips into the hallway. Thankfully, Mrs. Tomic likes her enough to give her an approving nod. 

“Go, Wade.” Ange says, stilettos clacking on linoleum flooring as she makes her way to her locker. 

“I’ve got a hit on- woah.” Wade’s voice screeches to a halt so quickly it makes Ange look down at the screen. He’s staring at her with wide eyes. Ange raises her eyebrows at Wade until he picks his thoughts back up. “Sorry, you just look pretty today.”  Would it be worth it to tease him? No, not if there’s a mission at stake. 

“Thanks. I feel pretty too.” Ange opens up her locker and grabs the duffel she’d stuffed into the top shelf. It has all of the mission gear she’d kept from last week inside. “What’s the sitch?”

“Right.” Wade shakes his head and shifts back into mission mode. “You said you wanted in on Drakken missions. Well, he just made a move on a computer manufacturing plant in Germany.” It draws a thoughtful hum out of Ange. There was plenty that could be done with a well made computer chip. “Your ride will be outside in ten minutes. Meet up with Kim at the north side.” 

“Ten-four.” Wade nods at her, then shuts off communications on his end. Ange sighs. He must feel a bit cautious about adding her into these missions. Ange had made it clear where she stood in terms of priorities last Friday. A problem to address another time. She needs to get dressed.

Kim pounces on her the moment she opens up the north side doors. 

She squeals, which makes Ange squeal. Together, they start squealing and jumping around in erratic circles that only gets more excited with the passage of time. A very confused Ron watches from the sidelines. “Angie!” Kim says, vibrating in her arms. The brilliant smile on Kim’s face blankets warmth throughout Ange’s entire body. “This is our first mission together. Oh my gosh, this is going to be ferociously awesome!” 

“I know!!” Ange says, also vibrating in Kim’s arms. Together, they hop this way and that across the parking lot besides Middleton High. “I am so stinkin’ excited to see you in action!” Her blue eyes catch sight of someone. “Oh- and, uh, you too Ron.” Ange gives him an awkward grin as she and Kim slow to a stop. Thankfully, he just waves it off.

“All good, I’m used to being overlooked.” That was just plain sad. “Don’t worry about it! It’s a good thing.” Ron slicks a hand through his messy blonde hair. “It means I can sneak in under the radar.” He puffs out his chest for good measure. “I self-destruct the lairs most of the time.”

Rufus pokes his head out from one of the many pockets of Ron’s cargo pants. “Me too!” 

“And I couldn’t do it without you both,” Kim adds fondly.

Ange looks between Ron and Rufus thoughtfully. “So, is it you specifically that self-destructs the lairs,” She points at Ron, then makes a circular motion with the same finger. “Or are you counting Rufus and you as one.”

“Hey! We are totally a unit.” Ron crosses his arms defensively. Overhead, the rumble of a jet approaches. “Just because Rufus hits the button more than me doesn’t mean I don’t do my part.” Ange just grins, hunch proven correct.