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“Piss, damn, fart - sorry -”
Ralsei bites down on her lip, trapping a giggle in her throat as she watches a smear of mint green tear a stripe through the fur on her fingers. It’s about the fourth time the tiny brush has pirouetted from Susie’s amateur grip, toothpick-thin between the thick pads of her clawed fingers left blotchy with the evidence of her effort, if not her efficacy. The sharp, sweet smell of paint fumes spill through the air again as it plops against the rug of Susie’s palace room.
“Susie!” she admonishes, predictably aghast by the outburst - but not in offence at the mess, she makes to reassure. Susie’s trying her best, really, to entertain Ralsei on a newly found ritual that she is barely a deft hand at herself. Ralsei appreciates this bubble of time, a moment between junk food horror binges and melty buttercream on a still too-warm cake. She shifts on the miss-matched cushions where the two of them sit across from each other, the slow crawl of evening bringing the threat of drowsiness in tow. “Such unbecoming language.”
“None of those are real swears , dumbass,” Susie chuckles. She blows a loose strand of hair from her face with a nasal huff, a puff of warm air that shouldn’t feel as hot on Ralsei’s face as it should. Her hair is messy on a good day, but the task, so challenging at hand - Ralsei’s hand, still poised gently in the strong but careful grip of Susie’s other claw - has the sloppy bun of her hair dishevelled as if she were running a marathon. The sight makes Ralsei’s stomach flutter. “Can I say that stain is gonna be bitch to scrub out?”
Ralsei scrunches her nose at that, glasses bouncing on the tip of her snout - she expects Susie to bop them back against the bridge of her nose like she always does, maybe steal them if she is feeling particularly impish, but she’s turning her concern to the now matted fluff of the carpet.
“You don’t have to worry about that,” Ralsei says. She gives the hand still holding hers a small squeeze. “I can clean it later, just keep going.”
“You sure, man?” Susie says. The brush is pinched tightly in Susie’s resolute grip again, but it still shakes, unpracticed. Under her shaggy bangs, a small wrinkle forms in the knit of her brow, her tongue poking through the skin of her cheek in rapt concentration. “I mean, you might wanna wait until like, Kris and Noelle aren’t busy. I think your nails looked better before I started.”
“I think you’re doing a great job,” Ralsei says.
“Uh huh,” Susie raises an eyebrow at her, at that - and, yeah, the next swipe of the brush a globby bubble that drips into Ralsei’s cuticle, a demonstration of Ralsei’s sweet, stretched-taffy truth that is almost deliberate.
“Well,” Ralsei says sweetly, squaring her shoulders. She’s decided to pull the trump card she holds near and dear to her chest, something cherished with the gravity of only ever wanting to be playful about it. “I… want you to do it, so there.” It’s a tough gambit, but in the past weeks of revelations, Kris and Susie had made it their mission to help Ralsei learn what she wants - from them, from life, from and for herself - let alone ask for it. So when the decadent perfume of the word lilts in the air, sweet and indulgent, Ralsei only feels sticky with a heady, giddy discomfort, as if she were dipped in honey.
She also tries not to feel a teeny bubble of shame - one she knows, logically, is so illogical in the interplay of it all - at this half-truth as well. Because it isn’t just about the nails, though this simple routine has helped anchor her into the comfort and newfound pride of her body, of her self-esteem, in the post green-out whorl of racing thoughts and shooting stars. In fact, sharing this with Susie had been the other girl’s idea in the first place. A spur of the moment thing, it had started out as an exercise of mutual improvement, of learning. Like when we practice healing on each other, Susie had said with her toothy grin, her bellowing laugh, and how was Ralsei supposed to say no to that?
Now, it was more about wanting her hand, small and steady and secure, to stay in the cool, scaled expanse of Susie’s palm.
“Ohhh,” Susie hums, deep and glottal; Ralsei feels it vibrate in her sternum. “If you say so.” Her eyes soften, crinkling with the molasses slow curl of her lip. Ralsei watches the bloom of her knowing grin, enraptured by the gleaming row of exposed yellow fang, glinting like pearl. “You only ever have to ask.”
“I know,” Ralsei says. She shuffles forward on her butt, her knees bumping into Susie’s, their entangled hands resting atop the crossing of their legs. “Thank you, though, for doing this.” Their foreheads inches from touching as Ralsei leans forward to watch her work, the wisps of Susie’s bangs tickling her nose. Her attention, though, is not on the uneven streaks of lacquer. Her eyes trace Susie’s face instead, the monster’s gaze solemn and determined. Ralsei smiles, counts the dusting of baby hairs on her chin, the whiskers on her upper lip bleached honey-brown in the lamplight.
“I’unno why you’re thanking me for this hack job,” Susie mumbles, almost to herself, once she’s finished the coat on Ralsei’s pinky finger. Almost all of the polish manages to stay on the nail, this time. “Damn, Rals, you’ve only been doing this for, what, a few weeks at this point? And you’re already better at this than I am.”
“W-we can do this more often, then, me and you - if you'd like!” Ralsei says. She doesn’t think she’s ever seen Susie’s nails painted until today - Ralsei herself had swiped the jet black enamel over the severe curl of each talon - but it didn't hurt to ask, especially when they were having such a good time. “We’re practicing, after all.”
“Eh, not like it’s just the nails I’m bad at,” and that’s enough to have Ralsei shooting up straight, ready to admonish her diminishing self-talk before she plows on. “Hell, none of this cutesy crap,” she huffs out a laugh, her eyes downcast. “Man, I’ve had - what, a sixteen year head start on you? And I’m still bad at being a girl.”
“Susie…” Ralsei says, watching as Susie inspects her work. Ralsei’s mind spins, thinking of the cackle of laughter blaring through the night, the I told you, Kris! that was all but a confession of her feelings. She had been so, so sure of Ralsei, had the four of them all figured out - but had she been sure of herself? “Susie, I didn’t realize…”
A snort breaks her train of thought, Susie’s fist shoving at her shoulder - it was meant to be gentle, Ralsei knows, but it almost knocks her flat anyways. “What, do we need to get you new glasses, dork?”
“It - it’s just that - you’ve never told me you felt that way before.” Ralsei almost keens, breathy with the emotion of another pending gender revelation. Her spinning mind picks up its racing revolution, wondering if she read the signs wrong about this girl in front of her - another prophecy broken, apparently - the charm under her gruffness, the swagger of her step, the drape of her clothes on her broad frame. All so Susie that Ralsei couldn’t even fathom a missing piece to this puzzle. “Have you - does Kris know? That you feel like this?”
“Kris has eyes,” Susie grunts, “that can see.”
“And - Noelle? I mean she - she doesn’t like -”
“Doesn’t like what? ” Susie snaps gruffly. Her teeth click with the ferocity of it, her whole body going rigid. Ralsei almost cowers, at the way her lips pull back in a snarl, shrinking at the way her body inflates with agitation. “What, you think she shouldn’t like me, too?”
“No! Not at all,” Ralsei rushes to clarify. “I just - I mean, I thought she only liked girls, and if you’re -”
“Not girly enough, yeah, like I haven’t heard that before,” Susie snarls - growls, eyes flashing with malice. She yanks her hand away, leaving Ralsei's hovering alone in the cool bedroom air, and she wants desperately to snatch it back in place, feeling lost without the tether of her grasp even as she huffs just inches from her. Still, Ralsei knows better than to reach out, a dawning realization that she got something wrong here.
"Susie, I didn't mean -" Ralsei stutters, pleading. "I though you were saying something else -"
“Like I haven’t been ripping the ribbons out of my hair since second grade.” Susie shoves herself away, standing - there’s a stone, hard and sharp and so unplaceably familiar as Ralsei watches her pace, her fists trembling. “Like I haven’t had every foster parent try and squeeze me into a frilly little dress only for the rest of the class to laugh at the freak trying too hard to be something she’s not. Or had the other girls in the bathroom sneer at me as if I didn’t belong in there with them. Like the boys didn’t know whether to harass me for acting too much like them, or snap my brastrap, or whatever the - fuck!”
There’s a tiny clink, the tinkle of glass under Susie’s slipper as the bottle of nail polish she had left behind tips over. Mint green begins to pour from its open mouth, a small puddle wafting its turpentine sting. “ Shit, shit, shit - sorry - ” Susie gasps, at the same time as Ralsei goes “it’s okay, it’s okay,” the two of them diving in to try and exercise some damage control. Their hands grab each other in a splotchy, sticky mess, Ralsei feeling the cool liquid soak and congeal against her fur as it seeps into the knees of her nightdress.
A frantic huff of a breath ruffles the downy fur of Ralsei’s ear, and she realizes Susie is almost stumbling towards her, frantic. Their shoulders are a hair’s breadth away like this, Ralsei watching the shaking, nervous rise and fall of her uneven panting. Her eyes have gone glassy behind her hair, her face a snarling rictus of someone trying desperately not to scream, or cry, or laugh.
“Susie, it’s okay,” Ralsei repeats. She raises one paw to gently cup the side of Susie’s snout, tilting the other girl’s face to look into her eyes. Her body deflates under Ralsei’s touch. “I’m sorry, I - please we can clean it after, it’s okay - I just, I didn’t understand what you were trying to say, just now. I want to -”
“I don’t - Ralsei -”
“Please,” Ralsei sighs. She’s reaching up with both paws now, cradling Susie’s long, strong jaw. Her thumbs move to stroke the pebbled scales of her cheeks, a flash of cool teal against rich, plum purple. It’s a good colour combination, Ralsei thinks idly, and wonders if there’s a similar colour that she can use to add on top, from the case Noelle loaned to her. So I can carry a bit of Susie with me. “You can tell me anything.”
“It’s just,” Susie sighs, her voice thick, a knot in her throat bobbing with the effort not to cry. There's a beat of silence where Ralsei braces to hold in her place, afraid that the other girl is going to turn away, before she steels herself, speaking again on the exhale of a rattling breath. “It comes so easy to you, to Noelle - to other girls.” She crosses her arms over her chest, her claws gripping the big t-shirt she wears to bed. As she speaks, the racing thoughts in Ralsei’s head begin to slow, unravel - the jagged pieces of this little puzzle straightening, adjusting. It had never been a question of herself, comes Ralsei's dawning realization - why would Susie, of all people, ever question anything before declaring herself, leading with every beat of her radiant heart? Because this was her heart, laid bare to her, beating like the wings of a frantic bird in her hands. “And I’ve tried, and I’ve never liked it at all, because that’s just who I am.
“And I love that about me!” Susie swallows, sniffs. She closes her eyes, and she squares her shoulders even as her lip trembles. “I love me! I try so hard to love the me that I am, even though everyone tells me it’s not right, that I’m not right. Talking about how a girl should look or act or whatever. Angel knows I’ve thrown it in their faces enough, that I’m too loud, too vulgar, too fat - too everything a girl isn’t supposed to be.”
“Oh, Susie,” Ralsei breathes. Something unravels in her chest, syrupy adoration heavy with the dread of seeing this girl - the girl, at last, this sweet girl, this strong girl, this butchy, barrelling bull of a girl, the one Ralsei had been waiting for in so many ways - hold herself stalwart against the stones hurled at her.
"Just feels like I'm - too much." A small, sharp keen, like the lonely mewl of a kitten, trapped behind the clenched lattice of her teeth. "And then I look at you, or Noelle, and you're so beautiful -" and even Ralsei, so focused now on cradling Susie's hurt as gentle as she can, feels herself light up. "And that feels - like'm not enough."
And - crap, she would claw the sound back desperately if she could, stuff it back into her own mouth until she starts choking - Ralsei laughs, high and incredulous, bubbling with tears. How couldn't she - how ridiculous is Susie being, saying these things? It makes Susie's eyes snap open, wide and searching, in surprise.
"Are you kidding?" Ralsei asks. She tilts her head so their foreheads can bump each other, a grounding pressure. Holding her close like this, like the utmost privilege it is, Ralsei is breathless like she had sprinted a mile. Like she were flying, stomach swooping as she feels the ground rush beneath her. "Susie, I look at you - I've thought of you -" laughter again, sweet, bubbling bright, "do you know how long I've spent, watching you - thinking of you, seeing how strong, how brave, how handsome you are, and thinking to myself, Angel, I wish I could be just like her?"
Susie's lip curls into a wobbly smile, and Ralsei squeezes her cheeks lovingly between her paws so she doesn't turn away to hide the tears spilling down her cheeks. "Ralsei," she groans, her voice bashful and thick with emotion.
"No, no Susie you don't get it -" Ralsei insists. "You know much we love you? Kris looks at you like you hung the moon, Noelle spends our time together kicking her feet and gushing about every second she gets to spend with you, and I - I -" Ralsei presses her snout against Susie's, nuzzling her as her own vision blurs. "It took me too long to realize, just how much I wanted. To be with you, to be like you, dreaming that I could be amazing, if I were half the girl that you are."
"You fucking sap," Susie responds, only for the two to immediately burst into fretful giggles, because the jab falls flat, with the high keen of her voice, the little sob that makes her body shake.
"You are more than we ever deserved," Ralsei gushes, her hands moving from Susie's face to wrap around her neck. Her scrawny arms are barely long enough to cradle the full circumference of Susie's bulk, and that just brings it home for her - her kindness, vast as the rough waters of the ocean; her joy, laughter like an earthquake that brings Ralsei to her knees; everything she loves that makes Susie, Susie. "You're everything."
Susie sniffles, burying her face in the crook of Ralsei's neck as her arms envelope her in a heavy embrace. Ralsei sinks beneath its weight, its spreading, cozy warmth as her body trembles with tears and the deep, pleasant rumble of her dragon purrs.
"You're the reason for that, y'know?" Susie says, after a while. She sways gently, rocking their shared embrace like a sailboat on the sea, her breath on Ralsei's fur the wind in the waves. "You make me want to be good, y'know that?"
"Mhm," Ralsei nods into Susie's shoulder, even as the admission sends electrics ripples through her. "You needed a good influence."
Susie snorts at that, shoving Ralsei away with a barking laugh. "You ass," she grumbles, but her teary eyes are alight with amber mischief, creased by the expanse of her broad, toothy grin, and that is enough to make Ralsei feel more settled as she wipes tears from her own cheeks and smiles.
"Aw - shit -" Susie says. When Ralsei pulls her hand away, there are smears of paint across her fingertips, matching the pastel blotches that her still-wet polish left on Susie's scales. She must be matching with some of her own, because Susie licks at her thumb, pressing it against the apple of Ralsei's cheek to scrub the spots away. Ralsei scrunches her nose as her head bobbles with the strength of Susie's rigorous ministration. "And I worked so hard on them."
"We can always redo them," Ralsei says - when all she really wants to do is scream who cares! and I love you! and smudge her nails every single time so that Susie can fix her with that golden gaze, like a pretty little bug under a magnifying glass, anything so that the soft pink of the night they find themselves floating in never ends. She intertwines their fingers, pulling Susie down to the floor with her, their legs entwined. "I'll always want you to, anyways."