How to be Badass (2nd Draft)

“Wow, nicely done,” M said as Dustin tried to figure out how to operate eyelids. He moved one, and then the other, and then his eyes went wide as he felt seeing in a way he never had before.

“Whoa,” Dustin breathed, and then laughed at the feeling of speaking (the little vibrations in his throat and head and chest were delightful), and then more at the feeling of laughter. M smirked, holding a hand out to Dustin, which Dustin clumsily reached for, missing a couple times.

Dustin couldn’t tell if he was joking or not, but existing for the first time in the human world was overwhelming enough that it quickly slid from his mind as he tried to figure out how to get his feet under him when M pulled him out.

“Try to speak,” M ordered.

Dustin’s eyes creased in confusion. The sound had just come out of him in shock. He wasn’t sure how to do it on command.

“Okay,” M said. “Relax your body and feel yourself breathing.” Dustin did, and found it fascinating. His rib chest expanded and contracted in small, easy movements. He tried stopping for a moment, and wondered at the feeling of tittering panic that went through him, and the lavish relief when he started again. Breathing was good. “Okay, nicely done, you can breath.” M sounded so intensely sarcastic that Dustin laughed, and then tried to focus on the feeling of the vibrations. “If you breathe out really violently you might be able to make a sound.”

Dustin did, and he did, and he shook his head in wonder. M’s eyes roamed the ground at their feet, and then the air around Dustin. Dustin moved his mouth, tongue clumsy in his mouth, trying to figure out how to make sounds. He had learned English before coming here, since apparently most humans spoke it, but he wasn’t really sure how to make his mouth make the sounds he had learned.

Applying theory to physical bounds was trying. He managed to get a ‘t’ sound, and smiled.

“Yeah, yeah, you’ll get there,” M said. “Try walking for now. People will just think you’re disabled or something, we can go out in public.”

Dustin wasn’t really sure what any of that meant, but he was eager to go out. He wasn’t sure what the world looked like, but he assumed it didn’t all look like the small, plain box of a place he was in now. It was grey. It was square. It was dull.

Dustin leaned heavily on M, putting one foot in front of the other, trying to learn which muscles supported him and which moved him forwards and which needed to do both at different times. Damn this was complicated. How did people do this to go everywhere.

“This is going to be a long day,” M muttered, and Dustin smiled angelically at him. M turned his head away, but Dustin could have sworn that he saw the edges of a real smile.

He was still riding the coattails of that smile in his thoughts when M opened the door, and Dustin forget everything else. “Don’t look at the sun jesus christ almighty,” M scolded.

But it’s so bright! And cool! Dustin thought, unable to speak.

“Look, do you want me to manipulate you for a second so I can teach your mouth to do some new tricks?”

M laughed at that, but Dustin didn’t get the joke, and simply raised his eyebrows at M. “I can make your mind know how to do the sounds you learned.”

Ah. Dustin nodded, and watched as M’s transparent power morphed over Dustin’s arm where it rested against M, and felt the sudden compulsion to move his mouth in very specific ways while using his voice.

When he’d gone through the alphabet, and all the combination sounds as well, the first thing Dustin fumbled his way through was, “Shapes!”

M let out a barking laugh. “What?” he said.

“Shapes,” Dustin said again, enjoying the way his mouth formed around the word, caressing it into reality, the vibrations in his chest a steady backdrop. “Words are shapes.”

“Sure, kid,” M said, shaking his head. “You know what’s better than words? Ice cream. Let’s go get some.”

“Where was Queri?” Allen asked in the car, frowning. He was just at the point of remembering their names. Dustin briefly resisted the urge to pet Allen’s hair, considered that there was no reason for him not to, and proceeded to do it. Allen closed his eyes for a moment and gave a little sigh. Dustin’s lips twitched upwards in fondness; he had thought that Allen wore his heart on his sleeve before, but it turns out that with the help of a little brain damage he could, in fact, be even less subtle.

“Where was Queri when?” Mimi asked, eyes flicking up to look at Allen’s in the rear view mirror, one eyebrow raised.

Allen gave another little sigh, this one more of a frustrated huff, and looked down at where his hand fidgeted with the sleeve of his sweater. It was actually Dustin’s sweater, so it was big on him, and Allen was certainly not helping preserve the threads that were coming unraveled on the cuff. Dustin, as a sentimental sort, didn’t mind. It would remind him of Allen.

“Earlier,” Allen finally managed. “When I woke up.”

“Oh. She took Isadora home.”

Allen just nodded at this and continued to fuss with the sweater until Dustin was bothered by it enough (despite his sentimentality) that he took his hand off of it and Allen glanced at him sheepishly. Dustin smiled back at him faintly. He was immensely relieved to have given up his hurt feelings towards Allen. It had been a breach of trust that hurt (**maybe put some Dustin perspective in the time period where he’s not associating as much with the others to give some insight into his emotional process during that? Or will that give too much away?**), but he had to admit that having Allen wake up in the goddamn hospital and immediately apologize with that look in his eyes like he was concerned about Allen when his heart had stopped beating less than an hour later was a compelling argument for his sincerity. Dustin, half out of his mind with worry, had also been scared shitless that no matter how badly or well Allen was doing when he woke up, the rift between them would be broadened by the distance between them when this happened.

He was beyond relieved that the opposite proved true. Dustin swallowed hard. He usually felt more mature than his human age implied, but in the hospital he had just felt like a scared, human sixteen year old boy. Mimi had comforted him, both physically and with her words, before giving him some time with Allen. He hadn’t known how starved he had been for comfort, for an adult to just take care of him for a bit until someone had. He wondered if that would become more regular at the house, if he let himself be brought into the family instead of sulking. Maybe he should try it.

Either way, the entire incident had lead him to one conclusion: he was not going to be helpless like he had been in the office ever again. The fear and helplessness had clogged up his mind and his veins and he had known there was nothing he could do, not safely, and the utter terror of watching Allen submerged in the power of another demon was—it was not an experience Dustin ever planned on reliving. At least not outside of his memories.

They made it back to the house, and Mimi carried Allen inside, to his vague protestation which she clapped back at with equal saltiness.

“If you hadn’t gone and stopped your own heart I wouldn’t need to carry you upstairs,” Mimi said. “There is no way I’m watching you struggle up those stairs. You don’t need to do that. I can carry you. I’m a strong motherfucking woman.”

“I know,” Allen had grumbled, and Dustin watched his hand curl around her neck hesitantly behind her blond braid as they walked inside.

Dustin accompanied Allen to his room, and then hovered uncertainly when Mimi put him down, and after harrassing him about whether or not he wanted or needed anything (“Are you hungry?” “No.” “We have leftover pizza.” “… I could eat some leftover pizza.”).

“You don’t need to hover,” Allen said, looking at Dustin as he shifted from foot to foot.

“Sorry.”

Allen waved his hands in frustration. “No, no.”

Allen sat silently for a minute, and then said, “This feels kind of like when we first met again. Like, before I told you what happened to me.”

That was a startlingly accurate assessment, and Dustin nodded in agreement. “Yeah, I guess it does,” he murmured. “Do we need to tell each other something?”

Allen chewed on his lip, and Dustin shifted from one foot to the other again.

“I was more hurt by the fact that I agreed with you and Char about what you guys said than what you said,” Dustin said. “I mean, it hurts to think the person you care about most has prejudice but I mean… you weren’t wrong. Demons have hurt you a lot. And there’s a reason I left. I agree.” He paused for a second to collect more of his thoughts. “I’m confused because I don’t think I can possibly be the only half demon that has this much human in me, but I’ve never found any evidence of that.”

Except maybe M, but I can never tell if he’s just really good at BS-ing everyone else, or just himself, or if it’s the truth.

Allen nodded, and held a hand out for Dustin, who sat down beside the bed gratefully and leaned his head against it. Allen’s fingers carded through his hair and it was familiar and comforting. Mimi’s type of comfort was new, but Dustin had gotten used to Allen’s type. The best friend type. The partner type. He had missed it, these past couple of weeks.

“Your turn,” Dustin said.

Allen laughed a bit. “Come on, I’m not good with words when my brain is working good.”

“Working well.”

Allen made a noise as if to say, case in point.

“Fine. Guess I’ll just sit here, then,” Dustin said, and Allen hummed happily in response.

It was a companionable silence. It didn’t need to be filled with words because it was already full of understanding and companionship and the feeling of Allen’s fingers in Dustin’s hair and Dustin’s hair between Allen’s fingers.

Mimi came back with the pizza and a glass of water.

“If I come back and that water is empty then I’m not leaving again until it is,” Mimi threatened, and Allen rolled his eyes in response but obediently took a sip of the water. Mimi nodded in satisfaction, and then left, leaving the door open when she did.

“What happened, again?” Allen asked. They had told him two or three times since he had woken up, but they hadn’t wanted to say anything too overtly at the hospital since they could be overheard, and that was just unnecessary complications, and Allen’s short-term memory was still having some trouble. He looked slightly trepid, as if he had heard it enough times to know to be afraid of it but not what to be afraid of.

“We went to the doctor’s office since Isadora was going to be there and we thought she was going to get the tattoos you have,” Dustin said. Allen nodded, his face crumpling in the same way it did every time he was told this. “You were possessed by a really powerful asphyxiation demon and it was pumping out too much power so you repossessed it and pulled the power around yourself because it’s easier to do than directing it elsewhere.”

Allen groaned and Dustin heard his head thump onto the headboard. “Ugh, I had no idea what the fuck I was doing.”

Dustin laughed breathily into the sheets his face was half-turned into. “Yeah, I know. It’s hard to do anything with power but bring it back at first.”

There was nothing but the faintly disgusting sound of chewing pizza in the silence before Allen said, “You’d know, right?”

Dustin nodded a bit sheepishly. “Yeah.”

“Dustin?”

“Hmmm?”

“Can you teach me to read?”

“You know how to read. I have taught you how to read.”

“Fine. Will you read to me?”

Dustin smiled. “Yeah. Let me go get a book. What do you want?”

“That one about the roman emperors.”

“You’re a nerd,” Dustin teased as he stood up.

“No! You’re a nerd,” Allen said, scowling.

“You can’t fool me, I lived in your room for three years,” Dustin said. “I’ll be right back.”

One would think that, with the amount of demon-inflicted injuries Allen had suffered over his lifetime, Allen would be a cool professional at dealing with such things by now.

This was not the case.

Allen scowled unseeingly at the workbook in front of him. Allen’s memory was short, his temper was short, and he, well, he might have just hit his growth spurt in the past month and was shooting up like a weed, but he wasn’t particularly tall either. ALTERNATIVELY: Allen’s memory was short-lived, his reign on his temper was short-lived, his balance was short-lived, and he, well it was a miracle he was still alive.

While nothing had overtly changed after the hospital incident, it seemed that the demonslayers had come to a conscious agreement that they were his parents now, which Allen had mixed feelings about. It struck Allen as irritating much of the time, which was probably largely because he was feeling irritable, but was also because he had mostly raised himself up and he was used to that by now. He had taking care of himself figured out, and having someone trying to do it for him or change the way he did things was irritating. Maybe he didn’t do it perfectly, but he got along.

His other feelings on the topic were of a more overwhelming variety. When he wasn’t irritable, that was how it came over him: overwhelmed. It wasn’t so much a feeling or two but a whole, messy tide of feelings that he couldn’t begin to untangle so he didn’t try. It had started as a funny feeling in his stomach when Mimi had carried him up the stairs and grew when he realized, some time in the middle of that night when he’d woken up after some nasty dreams where he couldn’t remember who his mother was even when she was screaming at him to save her, that the pizza Mimi had brought him had had broccoli on it, and since he was the only one who liked broccoi on their pizza that meant they had made the pizza for him. It wasn’t just leftovers.

However, the workbook in front of him conjured such a mixture of the overwhelm and the irritation that he was having trouble thinking past it. Double overwhelm. Overwhelm-ception.

The workbook was a home schooling booklet. Why did he have a home schooling booket? Because the demonslayers had decided that since he wasn’t allowed to train until he was fully recovered (another decision on their part), and since he hadn’t been regularly attending school for almost five years now, and since they were now his self-appointed guardians, he should start catching up on his academics.

The reason Allen had never persued academics on his own time was because he was ashamed of his incompetency at it. It wasn’t that he wasn’t intelligent enough for it. Well—he had no way of knowing if he was intelligent enough for it. But he simply didn’t know things that a fourteen year old boy living in a first world country where education was normal and mandatory should know. It became hard to sit through classes on American history when you were a mass murderer and demonic puppet. That shit gave you some pretty awful mood issues.

So he had avoided it like the plague, and now he was being told he had to do it and he didn’t like that, but he liked that they cared enough to do it. His father had made a show of trying to get him to go to school for the first few years since he started getting possessed, but hadn’t even acknowledged that Allen had never stepped foot in a high school. Hell, he didn’t even know if he was enrolled, or which high school he should be going to. Now that he thought about it, he wasn’t really sure how parole hadn’t gotten to him.

The booklet in front of him was on science—biology. They were just throwing stuff at him right now, trying to figure out what sort of stuff he knew and didn’t. This one wasn’t bad. He liked how it all fit together; there wasn’t anything abstract about it. It was clean. He would probably enjoy the work if he could get around his frustration at not being able to do anything, and at how he kept forgetting what he was writing about mid-sentence.

Abruptly, he stood up and decided to go find Sparrow. She liked biology, and he knew she was home today because she didn’t work Sundays, and it would be easier if he could just ask when he forgot shit instead of having to reread everything.

He poked his head into the candle and art room. “Hey,” he said, and then, “shit,” as he felt his mind stall out.

“Hey Allen, come on in,” Char said. Allen did, slowly, his mind whirring. He was holding papers. He looked down at them. A workbook. He was looking for someone.

“Hi,” Isadora said from where she sat at another desk, drawing her own picture.

“Hi Izzy,” Allen said. The girl grinned, pleased that he had finally remembered to call her that insitead of her full name.

The question of what to do with Izzy was an ongoing issue in the demsonlaying household, one that was to blame for rising tensions that she didn’t seem to particularly notice

“

Sparrow let me draw at her desk,” Izzy said, pointing at a piece of paper she was clearly imbuing with six year old creative talent.Allen wasn’t good with kids. He

just… didn’t know how to deal with them. He mostly just treated them like peers. Some of them responded better to that than others. “Cool,” he said, as he thought, Right, I was looking for Sparrow. “What are you drawing?”“TMy house,” Izzy said. “I bet mama and papa will put it on the fridge when I go home.”AAllen bit his tongue on the uncertainty of her going home at all, andmeandered over to look at it. There was a house—it didn’t look bad, for a six year old. It

was trying to have more than two dimensions. The people out front weren’t stick people. There was a woman, two men, and a cat our front. On the driveway was another man, separated from the others by a car.

“Who is everyone?” he asked.

“That’s mama,” she said, pointing to the woman, “that’s papa,” she pointed to the man next to her mother, “that’s Andy, he’s my brother but he’s a grown up so he doesn’t live with us.”

“What about that one?” Allen pointed at the other man.

“Oh,” Izzy said. “That’s the nice man who came to our house a long while ago. Like, summer-vacation-long. Mom gave him space cookies so he would like us better. I liked him, he had a pretty tattoo of a flower.”

“Space cookies…?” Allen said.

“Yeah, mama calls all of our cookies space cookies,” she said, and seemed quite pleased about it.

Char gave an airy chuckle from her desk next to them. Looking up to face her, Allen said, “Is Sparrow coming back? I need some help with my workbook.”

Char didn’t look up from her work when she said, “Yeah she just went to get tea. Take a seat. Or don’t. Just don’t make me mess up this design.”

“Couldn’t you just redraw it?”

Char made a noise of derision. “I’m really bad at dealing with disappointment, Allen.”

“Okay, okay.”

Allen did sit down, on the ground, since he was a little wobbly from the journey over there, thinking about tattoos of flowers and space cookies.

“Hello, [tattoo shop name], how may I help you?” Char said, putting the phone under her ear and bumping the door to the office closed with her hip in the same movement.

“Hi Charlaine,” the voice on the other end said. “It’s Emmanuel.”

Char felt the precise moment all the blood left her brain. “Oh,” she breathed, and leaned back on the door, pressing fingers into the bridge of her nose. A strand of highlighted hair escaped from behind her ear and tickled her chin. “Hi. Sorry about that last message. It was… a frightening moment.”

What did you say to someone you had been very in love with a dozen years ago? Someone you had a baby with? Someone you abandoned?

It seemed Emmanuel was struggling with a similar sentiment on the other end, and there was an awkward silence that made Char want to scream. “I don’t even know where to start,” Char said, honestly, falling back onto her bluntness.

“You run a tattoo shop?” Emmanuel asked, tentatively.

“Yeah,” Char said. “It’s good business. Everyone’s getting tattoos these days.”

“Should have known you’d end up doing art,” he said. “It was always what made you light up.”

And you, Char thought, but didn’t say. Surely that was too much. Too much intimacy for all the time they had spent apart.

“What are you doing, then?” Char ventured.

“Electrician,” Em said, and he didn’t sound excited about it. Char’s stomach clenched. He had given up everything for Sam, and unlike Char, he never got the chance to be supported until he could do what he loved. “It pays the bills.”

“What do you want to do, Em?” Char asked. “You wanted to be a teacher. Do you still want to do that?”

“I don’t see why it matters,” he said. “I can’t afford to go to school.”

Char considered offering her money to help out, decided Em’s pride was as bad as hers and this would not be recieved well, and switched tactics. “How’s Sam?”

There was a brief pause from the other end, and then Em said, “What do you think of that new ad on the TV? The one about trans people being predators in bathrooms?”

“What?” Char said, bewildered. “I don’t—I don’t really watch TV these days. I have too many other things to do.”

“Fine. What do you think of Laverne Cox then?”

“What are you going on about?” Char snapped, exhasperated. She was already emotionally highly strung and these completely off kilter questions were not helping. “I suppose she’s a talented actress? I don’t think I’ve watched much of her stuff.”

“Caitlyn Jenner.”

“Em,” Char said. “Why are you asking me about his?”

All in a rush, Em said, “Sam’s a she, and if you have a problem with that then I’m not letting you near her. She doesn’t need that in her life.”

Apparently the phone call wasn’t enough a curve-ball on its own; no, life needed to put an extra dosage in the conversation itself.

“Oh,” she said, recovering quickly. “What kind of mother do you think I am? Not that I deserve to call myself one, but of course I don’t have a problem with that! God. Is—is she happy?”

Char heard a breath let out against the reciever on the other end, and then said, “I needed to check. I know you disagreed with your family’s faith but… I needed to check.”

“It’s fine,” Char said, sliding down the door until she sat on the ground. “At least she’s not making deals with demons.”

“What?”

“Never mind.”

“How’s Allen?” Em asked, and Char smiled that he had remembered. She wondered how many times he had listened to her message.

“He’s doing better. We’ve got him home, at least,” Char said.

“Who’s ‘we’?”

Char smiled wryly. “I live in a polyamorous relationship with five other women, and we just adopted two boys,” she said, with mock seriousness.

Emmanuel laughed, so at least he still knew her that well. “Okay,” he said. “It sounds like a lot has happened.”

“Yeah,” Char said, smile fading. “Yeah, it has. I really do live with five other women. But none of us are in a relationship. Actually, two of them should be but they’re dumb. And we really just did adopt two boys. One of them is Allen. He’s fourteen. And his friend Dustin. Also one of the women we technically adopted like five years ago.” She paused for a beat. “It’s a complicated living situation.”

“So I gathered,” Emmanuel said dryly. “And here I am the boring single father in the suburbs.”

So he hadn’t married. “Are you in the suburbs?”

“Yeah, it’s a bit cheaper out there than it is in the city.”

“I’m glad,” Char said. She wanted to ask again if she could come visit, but she didn’t want to push the issue. She knew her patience in that department would run out swiftly, but before that became an issue Em’s voice softened as he broached the topic that had been hanging over their heads the entire conversation.

“Why did you leave?” Em asked, and Char felt that he was avoiding saying her name. He used to say it constantly, religiously, like it was sweet on his tongue and bursting in his mouth. Nostalgia and old love roared through her as she was forcibly overcome with memories; sitting on the roof together with the stars between their fingertips as they traced the constellations, or wrapped up in each other’s arms, skin on skin and lips on skin and hands in mouths. She worked to master it, but her voice trembled a bit when she answered.

“I told you everything I could in that note.”

“That note,” Em said, and Char couldn’t tell if he was angry or sad or scornful. “That note didn’t explain anything. Did you—do you know what it was like, coming home to that?”

“You wouldn’t believe me,” Char said, unsure how she managed to sound so calm even though guilt coated her tongue, making the words feel thick and fake, like dollarstore toys. “I promise I’ll tell you one day, if I’m going to be around. If I get to see Sam.”

Em made a noise of frustration, and Char blinked back tears that he couldn’t see. “Fine,” he said. “I don’t know what you went through.” It was true. When she had left, they had barely seen each other, since he was always at work, and when he wasn’t at work he was sleeping. And now with all the time in between then and now.

“And I don’t know what you went through,” Char said. “But I’d like to know, if you’ll tell me.”

Again, silence. “Okay,” Em said. “With time.”

“With time.”

“I’ve missed you, Char.”

Char was crying now. They were silent tears, but she choked on a bitter laugh that was somehow also a sob when he said her name. “I’ve missed you, too.”

A love as big as theirs had been did not simply go away. Losing Em in her life had been hard, and it had been a little like grieving. They might not be the same people they had been, but those people were part of what made them who they were today, and they were a part of what made each other who they were today.

Char remembered a line from a movie she had once watched with Mimi and Fay, Blue Is The Warmest Color—“I have infinite tenderness for you. I always will. My whole life.” That bit had been preceeded with the same character saying she no longer loved her former lover. Char wasn’t sure there was much of a difference between infinite tenderness and love. Love didn’t have to be an active volcano. It could be tenderness. It could be the ache of a scar, long-since healed.

Char took a deep, uneven breath, and then said, “Will you call again? Or will I have to leave you another panicked message next time something awful happens?”

Char didn’t add, Things are getting dangerous around here, and I don’t want to miss my chance.

“I’ll call again, once I talk to her about it,” Em said. “Maybe in a couple of days.”

“Okay,” Char said.

“Bye, Char.”

“Bye, Em.”

“When are you leaving?” Fay asked as she tapped away on her computer while Queri sat at the other end of the desk, looking over a contract for a client. Queri wasn’t a casually socialable person, and Fay knew that if she was in here, it was because she was in need of companionship. Fay’s voice was toneless, but Queri would know.

“Two days,” Queri said, tapping a pen to her lip and frowning. “I wish it wasn’t necessary. But it might be good for us.”

It had taken a lot meetings that turned into shouting matches, but eventually it had been agreed that the best course of action with Isadora was to evacuate her from the area. She was too young to be anything but a liability, and after such a public display of resistance against the operation that had gotten ahold of her and Allen, the demons would have their scent. It was best to get her somewhere with a low demonic presence. Since Queri was Mimi’s second in command, and since she was the only level five aside Fay (who obviously wasn’t fit for becoming a parent to this child), Queri was the obvious choice to take her.

Fay didn’t say anything for a moment, and then said, “Have you and Mimi worked anything out yet?”

“Anything out yet for what?” Queri said warily.

Fay sighed and stopped typing, putting her palms down flat on the desk beside the keyboard. “Look,” she said, “I was staying out of it because it’s not my business. But as much as I pretend to not give a shit about anyone, I love you both and you’re miserably in love with each other and it’s stupid. Neither of you guys are stupid so work something out.”

Queri looked at Fay, mouth parted slightly and a sad fold between her eyes. Gruffly, Fay added, “Also, it’s cringey as fuck watching you guys tip toe around the issue.”

Queri sighed and put the contract down, resting her elbows on the desk and her forehead on her hands. When it became clear that she wasn’t going to say anything, Fay cast around in her limited repetoire of social grace and eventually came up with, “What are you even hung up about?”

“It’s not… it’s not responsible,” Queri said. “If we don’t work out, if something goes wrong and there’s bad blood and we can’t get along, what are we going to do? This city needs us, and it needs us working together.”

Fay snorted.

“What?” Queri asked irritably.

“It’s just that you said it would be good for you to get away. It looks like ignoring it is already causing problems to me.” Fay went back to typing a bit of code into a program to troubeshoot it, something mindless she had done hundreds of times.

There was another pause.

“Fuck, you’re right,” Queri said.

“Aren’t I always.”

“No.”

“That wasn’t a question. Couldn’t you hear I didn’t put a question mark at the end?”

“Fay, you have the least expressive voice I have ever witnessed,” Queri said.

“Are you going to work something out with Mimi?”

There was a ragged silence, and the Queri said, her voice small from being buried in her arms and pointed at the floor, “I guess.”

“Go talk to Sparrow about it or something. Or Char. Didn’t she have a really good relationship before coming here?” Fay suggested.

“Thanks, Fay,” Queri said.

“Yeah, yeah, no problem.”

Fay knew there was more bothering her. And she knew that she needed to talk about it, but Fay wasn’t good at this stuff, and she didn’t want to fuck anything up for Queri. So she switched tactics to something else that had been eating at her. “Is Allen training again yet?”

“He should soon,” Queri said. “He still gets disoriented from going up the ladder.”

“He should start training,” Fay said stolidly. “Needs to pull his weight.”

“Fay, don’t start on that,” Queri said with a sigh. “He had a brain injury.”

“I know.”

She said it with enough weight that Queri stopped talking and tilted her head at Fay inquisitively. Fay could practically feel the cogs turning in her mind and Fay huffed. “I don’t want him to be a liability the same way we don’t want Isadora to be a liability.”

Queri shook her head slowly, leaning back in her chair. “You know, you can admit that he’s grown on you. It’s okay to care about the kid.”

Fay bristled slightly, but then slumped back in her chair as well. “Fine. He scared me a bit when his heart stopped. He’s been scaring me for the past couple weeks when he forgets things out of nowhere or looks at me like he doesn’t know who I am.”

Queri hummed in understanding, but mercifully didn’t say anything sappy or teasing. Fay chewed on her lip briefly. She had admitted to herself in the moment when she had stood on a chair in a doctor’s office, watching Allen collapse in a pool of demonic power that she had been wrong about him being weak, and cowardly. The realization had creeped over her skin, laced with fear and goosebumps. She had been helpless, and she hated it. But he hadn’t been. And he’d done something with that.

Fay was just big enough to admit that she had been wrong to herself, but she wasn’t sure she was big enough to admit that to anyone else yet. What she was less willing to admit to herself was that she… cared… about Allen. He had somehow gotten into her protective circle, between the pathetic meltdowns and the angry words and admittedly-brave deeds. What a weird kid.

“I just want him to train so he can protect himself,” Fay mumbled at her lap.

“Yeah,” Queri said. “I think we all do. But he’s still healing, and if he pushes himself he’ll just end up being weaker.”

Queri touched the contract where she had set it down, but didn’t pick it up again yet. “I’m also sort of worried about leaving.”

Fay cocked an eyebrow at her by way of asking her to continue.

“Well… You guys will have Char and Sparrow but you, Mimi, and Kidd aren’t exactly effective communicators. Especially with feelings,” Queri explained. “I’ve been the mediator for a long time. I’m a clear communicator and I can understand everyone’s feelings.”

“Except your own,” Fay pointed out. The whole spectacle of her and Mimi had been a long time coming and there was no way Queri had understood her own feelings on the matter if it took this long.

“Usually I can,” Queri shot back. “I’m just not used to like… you know… liking… girls.”

“That’s what you were confused about?” Fay asked, her voice rising above its usual monotone.

“Yes!” Queri snapped. “I grew up in a conservative household! My parents weren’t overtly homophobic or anything but there were always little things.”

Fay thought about that for a second, and then nodded. “Yeah, you’re right. My parents were similar. I don’t like girls but I totally would have subconsciouly tried not to if I did.”

Queri gave her a strange look, and then shook her head. “You’re sympathetic on some of the weirdest things, Gordana.”

“Don’t use my last name,” Fay bit at her, and Queri’s lips twitched upwards. Fay scowled back.

“I gotta use it sometimes,” Queri said.

“Why? You never use my first name,” Fay said.

“Fay is basically your first name now, even if it isn’t legally.”

“Yeah, Fay is my illegal first name.” ‘Fay’ had originally been her hacker name, something she used in the less socialite circles she found herself running in once she broke away from her parents’. She had had quite the rebellious phase. Well, phase wasn’t quite right—that implied that it had ended. But it was the name Mimi had picked her up under when she got busted, and she liked it better than her legal name anyways, so it had stuck.

Queri snorted. “I guess it is. Done anything illegal lately?”

“Well I downloaded private information on patients of a doctor’s practice and I’ve been reading through all the patients’ information,” Fay said, opening up the files as she said it.

Queri gave a soft laugh as Fay’s mouse moved over the list of patients.She had gone through most of those files, and it had been boring as all hells. Actually, she was sure the demon realm was quite interesting, unlike patient files. There was a lot of gross things about people in places she didn’t like to think about, nor cared to ever again. Out of habit, she opened Izzy’s file again, eyes flicking over all the information she had gone over time and time again. She was sure there was nothing else for her to glean from it. She was sure.

“When I went into law I did not think I’d end up using so much of my knowledge to get around the law,” Queri mused.

Fay snorted, smirking. “Well I appreciate it.”

“You did well enough getting around it without my help,” Queri said.

“Yeah, until got caught,” Fay pointed out.

“Hah, fair point.”

Fay closed Izzy’s file. Queri picked up her contract. Fay went back to coding.

Queri knocked on the door that night.

Queri didn’t usually knock on the door, and it instantly had Mimi wary as to why she was there as Mimi called her in and patted the bed beside her.

Queri folded her hands on her lap when she sat, looking down at them studiously.

“Are you ready to leave tomorrow?” Mimi asked, softly. She hadn’t been happy about that decision, at all. In fact, her dislike of it was largely the reason it had taken so long for them to agree that it was the right thing to do. Mimi did not like her family being split up. The idea of not being able to be around to protect them, to make sure everyone was okay, was maddening.

More than that, she couldn’t stand the idea of being separated from Queri for so long. But of course, it was the right thing to do, and even if Mimi had needed to be raised to protect people to think that way, even if Mimi would still let the world burn to keep those she loved safe, even though it shamed her, Queri wasn’t like that. It was one of the things Mimi loved about her. Queri was good. Queri saw the big picture and gave the little guy his dues. She was honourable and brave.

And right now, she was shaking her head, hands tightening. “No,” she breathed, and Mimi’s eyebrows rose in surprise when she realized she was trying not to cry.

“Come here,” Mimi murmured, opening her arms, and Queri obliged, crawling into her lap. Mimi breathed out deeply, letting herself enjoy the feeling of holding Queri and of Queri holding her, burying her face in Queri’s hair, dark and fluffy, as Queri burried her face in the crook of Mimi’s neck.

“Fay says we need to work something out,” Queri said from her spot in Mimi’s neck.

“What does that even mean?” They hadn’t spoken of their feelings for each other since that time months ago when Allen had just arrived and they had, in their own, cryptic way, agreed to ignore their feelings for each other.

Queri shrugged, and then struggled back a little bit. Mimi loosened her arms around her to allow her to, and Queri looked Mimi in the eyes. “I want to look you in the eyes when I say this. I love you.” Mimi’s breath caught in her throat. It was a phrase they’d said to each other so many times, but there was a weight to it this time, a weight that spoke with the same weight that Mimi felt inside of her when Queri didn’t get a joke and got that adorable little confused crease between her brows, the same weight that she cradled inside her chest when she caught sight of the two little freckles on her upper lip, right on the left of her cupid’s bow. “Not just as a friend. I—I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to come to terms with it.”

“How long?” Mimi managed to choke out, fingers tightening unconsciously on Queri, one hand curved around her shoulder and the other around her waist. This was why they hadn’t looked at it straight on when Queri had let slip that she had feelings. It was like looking at the sun head-on and then expecting Mimi to be able to look away without there being a hole in her vision. It made her too damn happy for her to give it up if she let herself accept that it was real.

Queri looked down shyly. “I’m not sure exactly. I denied it to myself for a long time. I—you know, I don’t know if I would have ever accepted that I was, you know—”

“Hey,” Mimi said, smoothing Queri’s hair away from her face, and tilting her head up. “Be proud. You’re a strong woman, Queri. Don’t let anything take that away from you.”

Queri’s eyes looked mournful, but she still nodded her head and didn’t look down as she said, “I’m gay.”

Mimi let out a breath. “Good.”

Queri’s lips quirked upwards. “Yeah, it is for you.”

“I meant good that you—you know what, nevermind. Are you saying that I was your sexual awakening?” Mimi teased.

“No, I’m saying that you made denial too much fucking work,” Queri said, smiling and shaking her head. “You’re so—so big and beautiful and loud and—”

Mimi’s lips curved into a bigger and bigger smile with every word, and interrupted her to say, “Can I kiss you?”

It was a question asked on impulse. Mimi knew it was cruel to ask. But she had to; she couldn’t just kiss her, not when Queri had clearly struggled with accepting what she felt so much. She couldn’t just pretend that she didn’t want to, either, though. It was up to Queri, if she thought she was ready or not.

Queri exhaled, and tilted her head at Mimi. “So I can miss your lips as well as your scowl?” Mimi laughed, and Queri added, “And your laugh.”

Well, damn her to the demon realm if Queri talking about missing Mimi’s lips didn’t do something for her. Queri had always been able to get under Mimi’s defenses, though. “What can I say, I need to give you something to come back for.”

Queri leaned forwards, and brushed her lips over Mimi’s; chaste, easy. Natural. It made Mimi’s chest ache with that unique strain of happiness that seemed to be love’s shadow, the one that was so big it felt like sadness. “Mimi, I’ll never need kisses to come back. Just the promise of my family. And a cause to fight for.”

Mimi hummed, lifting up a hand to trace Queri’s lips, hesitantly, brushing those two little freckles. They were unfairly adorable. “You’ll always have that.”

She slid her hand from Queri’s lips, to her cheek and then to the nape of her neck to tug her forwards into another kiss. It was a bit awkward, in the way of two people kissing who hadn’t done it in a very, very long time, but that was okay. It was better than okay, really, because it was part of being with Queri, and Mimi loved everything about that.

Adoro help her, she really was the biggest sap when it came to this woman.

A small sigh escaped Queri when Mimi deepened the kiss, gently opening her lips. Mimi laughed shakily and broke away, hiding herself in Queri’s hair.

Queri wound her arms around Mimi’s neck and she could hear the smile in her voice when she said, “Why are you hiding? This isn’t like you.”

“I’m going to miss you so much,” Mimi said. “I wish you didn’t have to go. I really wish I could just keep you here.”

“So do I,” said Queri. “But I have to go, and I will.”

There was such calm resignation in her voice, and there inlay Mimi’s strength to do what was right rather than simply what she wanted to do. Queri was like the angel on her shoulder. Mimi knew she wasn’t a bad person without her, but she made her better. “I know you will. You always do.”