Chapter Text
Lydia spots Allison as soon as she walks into the cafeteria. Allison is standing in line with her back to Lydia, talking to a dark-haired girl next to her. There's a lump in her throat and she stands frozen for a moment before heading over to her table where Tracy, Hayden, Erica and Malia are waiting.
Malia pushes a tray at her when Lydia sits down between her and Erica. "Got your favorite," she smiles, looking up from her sketchbook and Lydia smiles back, shaking her head fondly.
"It's cafeteria food, I don't really think there is such a thing as a favorite cafeteria food."
"You get the mac and cheese every day they offer it, though. Even on pizza day," Hayden points out. She scrunches up her nose. "Who would pass up pizza?"
She looks around at Tracy and Erica as if she genuinely cannot understand Lydia's love for gooey, overcooked pasta. Admittedly, she doesn't really look like the kind of person who would even eat cafeteria food, never mind enjoy it, but she's changed a lot since she finally broke free of the restraints she'd put on herself in high school. She doesn't care anymore about being the thinnest or the most popular. She knows she has friends who love her and she's learning to love herself and she knows she's damn smart and that's all that should matter.
So she enjoys the food in the cafeteria, it's not so bad and besides it's good for her wallet, and she rewards herself with pastries and the occasional Starbucks drink. She's working on it, the whole loving herself the way she is shtick.
Erica and Hayden start arguing about whether or not pineapple is acceptable on pizza and whether or not adding olives would make the situation better or worse. (Erica is for pineapple but against olives, Hayden is vehemently against both, Lydia doesn't even know why they're arguing about the olives when they clearly agree.)
Lydia lets their friendly bickering wash over her, looking up at Tracy sitting across from her as she takes a bite of her mac and cheese.
"You okay, Trace?" she asks quietly.
Tracy blinks up at her, tugging her hair behind her ears. "Yeah, sorry. Just lost in thought I guess. How was class?"
"Productive. I got a lot of work done on my portraits," Lydia says. Then after a moment's hesitation and a careful glance at the others (Erica and Hayden are engrossed in discussion, both of them leaning far over the table and Malia is sketching something in between bites of her burrito.) she lowers her voice and asks, "Are you having trouble sleeping again?"
She knows it's a sensitive topic for Tracy and she knows that if the others catch wind they'll worry themselves sick. Hell, Lydia worries enough for all four of them.
"Honestly, I haven't been getting much sleep at all lately. Not because of nightmares just, a lot of stress. Projects, essays, all that shit."
"If you need someone to proofread for you I'll be happy to do it," Lydia says, meaning it completely. "You know I love reading your stories."
"I know," Tracy smiles just as Hayden tugs her hand into the crook of Tracy's elbow, a sure sign that she's been eavesdropping on their conversation.
Lydia looks up when someone clears their throat behind her.
"Uh, hey, sorry," Allison smiles at them, her dimples just like Lydia remembers them. She's tan and there are freckles all over her cheeks and nose. Her hair is longer than Lydia remembers and curlier than when she left Beacon Hills to spend the summer in France. She almost looks like the young girl she was when they first met. "I was wondering if we could sit with you?"
She gestures at the girl standing next to her, shorter than Allison but with darker hair and an even more adorable smile. They look good together, Lydia thinks, not without a small trace of bitterness.
"We're full, sorry," Tracy says with a glower that's actually just her neutral expression but manages to make freshmen everywhere scamper in her wake.
"Oh, okay. Um, sorry," Allison says, smiling again but more hesitantly. She glances at Lydia briefly before she and her girlfriend turn to look for a table elsewhere.
There's a moment of silence and then Hayden says, drawn out and confused, "Okay? What was that about?"
"She's so smiley," Tracy says, not looking at Lydia. "Gives me a headache."
"You know," Malia says, closing her sketchbook and putting her pencil down. "Just because you have the resting bitch face down to an art, doesn't mean everybody does." She throws Tracy a dazzling grin, before letting her face go back to it's usual frown-y stare.
"But that's why I have you," Tracy points at all of them, her palms open as if she's at a Christian prayer group. "We're the resting bitch face club. You guys are the buffer between me and all the happy people out there in the world."
"So are you saying," Erica gasps, pressing on hand to her chest, "that you only befriended us for our mean scowls and bitchy eyebrows?"
"Yes, my dear," Tracy laughs, covering Erica's hand with her own. "That is exactly what I'm saying."
"I can't believe this," Hayden frowns, turning to look at Tracy with mock hurt. "Do you love me or do you just love my resting bitch face?"
"Babe," Tracy grins, "you know the truth. I'm just in this relationship for your looks."
Erica and Malia gasp and Lydia presses both hands to her cheeks.
"Oh, oh. Trouble in paradise!" She can't help but laugh, though, at their ridiculous expressions and Malia starts giggling as well, clutching at Lydia's shoulder when she almost falls of her seat. Hayden and Tracy are kissing in between laughter, short sweet pecks, both of them grinning wildly, and they look so ridiculously happy Lydia feels something twist deep inside her chest.
It's such a crass contrast, looking at them now, all of them, so happy and joyous, compared to where they were just last year, fighting for their lives, broken and breaking and beaten down. They've pulled themselves up by their claws and by their fangs (or by nail and tooth in Lydia's case). She wishes sometimes that she could keep them like this. Safe, happy, trapped in their own little bubble of love.
She's not gonna let anyone or anything hurt them. Not like that. Not again. And she knows they can all protect themselves, two werewolves, one kanima and one coyote, but heaven be damned if she won't throw herself in front of them first chance she gets.
They're not a real pack, not by the rules of the supernatural community, since they don't have an alpha, but they're a pack in every way that counts and Lydia is their emissary and she will protect them.
The bell rings then, breaking Lydia out of their thoughts and the others out of their laughing haze. They back up their things and kiss each other goodbye and good luck for their next class.
Tracy and Lydia walk together to their French class, silence hanging heavier than usual between them. Or maybe that's just Lydia's nerves speaking as she tries to gather the courage to say something about what happened at lunch.
"Thank you," she says finally, voice so quiet Tracy might not've even heard it if she weren't Tracy.
"You're welcome," she says, flashing Lydia a smile and taking her hand. "You would've done the same for me."
"In which situation?" Lydia laughs. "Did your former best friend also fuck off to Europe for two years and come back with a dazzling French girlfriend at her side?"
"You know, I'm not sure her girlfriend is French," Tracy says, tilting her head in a thoughtful way.
Lydia snorts, another thing she wouldn't have done in high school, along with grinning and laughing out loud till her belly hurts. Now she lets herself show her happiness without thought to whether or not she looks attractive or not.
"And anyways, you're still friends, aren't you?"
"I don't know," she sighs. "We haven't spoken since she left and we barely talked at the end of that year, after everything that happened and, I just don't know where that leaves us, you know?"
"But you didn't have a fight or anything, right?" Tracy presses.
"No."
"Well, then that leaves you in need of a good talk," she says, easy as that.
"It's not that easy," Lydia tries to say but Tracy squeezes her hand and gives her a meaningful look.
"I covered for you this time because I thought that you probably wouldn't want to spend an awkward lunch sitting across from her making small talk, but if she comes over to our table again I'm not gonna stop her from sitting with us. So talk it out," Tracy squeezes her hand again and lets go of it to open her backpack, taking out her notebook and sinking into her seat. Lydia sits next to her and takes notes on French verb modes for the next hour and a half, but her mind is far away, trying to figure out how best to approach Allison.
It turns out that she needn't have worried because before Lydia can go to Allison, Allison comes to her.
She's alone in her room, Malia is meeting with her history professor to discuss an extension on one of her essays, when there's a knock at the door. Lydia opens the door, half expecting it to be Erica or Malia who forgot her key, but instead it's Allison, wearing a tank top and sweats, her hair pulled up in a messy bun.
"Hey," Allison smiles, but it's that same smile she'd worn in the cafeteria before she'd walked off with her girlfriend. Hesitant and guarded with a side of hurt puppy dog eyes.
"Hey," Lydia smiles back. She feels young again all of a sudden, unsure like she'd been the first time she'd walked up to Allison in the hall of Beacon Hills High School, nothing more than a pretty airhead, pretty but pretty lonely.
"I hope it's okay that I knocked I just, well, I wanted to see if we could talk but then I wasn't sure if you'd want to talk to me since I kind of ran out on you the last time we saw each other and it's been a long time and maybe you don't wanna talk to me at all so maybe I should just – "
"Ally," Lydia interrupts, the nickname feeling strange on her tongue in a way it shouldn't, but Allison is rambling and there's not much that can rattle her enough to make her nervous enough to ramble, not since she adopted the art of pointed, threatening silences from her father. "It's okay. Come on in."
"Oh, really?" she sounds honestly surprised, like she'd really expected Lydia to send her away, maybe just slam the door in her face. "I mean, thanks."
"Yeah, really. And I wanna say, before anything else, I'm sorry about at lunch today. Tracy isn't – she was trying to protect me." She has to force the words out, her stomach turning at the idea of showing this much weakness, at letting Allison know how much her leaving had affected Lydia. "I wanted us to be able to talk things out just the two of us and the cafeteria probably isn't the best place for that."
"Right, yeah. I know. I should've thought of that beforehand." Lydia can practically see Allison beating herself up.
"Hey," she says, reaching out to Allison to touch, to comfort. She stops at the last second, dropping her hand uncertainly. "It's – let's sit, okay?"
They sit on Lydia's bed and it's like a cruel mockery of memory, the two of them sitting awkwardly on the edge of the bed, staring down at their hands, nothing at all like they used to sit on Lydia's bed, cross-legged and smiling at each other, sharing secrets and memories.
"I'm," Allison starts, "I'm not sorry I left, but I'm sorry for the way I left. Almost dying, it scares the hell out of me."
"Dying."
"What?"
"Not – not 'almost.' You did die. Your heart stopped on the way to the hospital. And then twice more during surgery. You died, Allison," Lydia manages to say and she's crying now, big, fat tears rolling down her cheeks and her face pulls into an ugly crying frown. She doesn't care. "You died and I wasn't there. And when I came to the hospital you were gone." Her voice is rising and she can't help it. All her pent up emotions are crashing down all of a sudden, Lydia's not even sure what she's feeling. "I had to find out from Scott what happened."
"Well, I died and you weren't there, Lydia," Allison is crying too. "You weren't even there, you were off somewhere saving Stiles and I died." She turns away as if that way Lydia won't see the tears on her face. She starts pacing along the length of the room, angrily wiping her face with the hem of her tank top. "And then, when I was in the hospital, you didn't come for days. No one came!"
"Because they wouldn't let us," Lydia shouts, jumping up and into Allison's path. "They wouldn't let us because we weren't family," she says quieter. They must look ridiculous the way they're standing there, slightly too close, but carefully apart, chests heaving and tear-stained, Allison with her mouth slightly open, shock and confusion on her face. It's clear she's never heard this side of the story. "Your dad wouldn't talk to any of us. And they wouldn't let us see you without his permission."
"I didn't know that," Allison breathes.
Lydia just looks at her, not knowing what to say. She feels lost, drained, like now that she's let it all out there's nothing left to fill that hole inside her heart where her best friend used to be.
"It scared him too, me dying. That's why we moved to France." Allison exhales shakily. "I'm sorry for not talking to you before I left. I'm sorry for never calling or writing. I was mad and I – I thought maybe you didn't want to talk to me anymore." Lydia knows that Allison doesn't mean just her anymore, that she means all of them. Scott and her and everyone else. "I thought maybe not coming to see me at the hospital was your way of telling me that you didn't want me in your pack anymore," her voice drops to a whisper and she looks down, not meeting Lydia's eyes, "that I was too weak."
"Allison," she's crying again, but not out of anger this time. She reaches out for Allison's hand and Allison meets her halfway, their hands intertwining as if no time at all has passed. "You were always the strongest out of all of us."
"I missed you, Lydia. I missed you so much." And then suddenly they're hugging and crying, both of them, sobbing into each other's shoulders. Lydia's hands are curled into fists against Allison's back, holding her close as if she might run away at any moment. Allison has one arm wrapped around Lydia's shoulders, the other around her waist, her face pressed into Lydia's neck. The hug is a mess of hair and tears and sobbing, but it feels so good neither of them want to be the one to pull away first.
The spell is broken when Allison's phone pings and they pull apart, both of them smiling through their tears.
"It's Kira," Allison says, looking down at her phone. "She needs my help with something..."
"We'll talk later," Lydia assures her. "You still have my number?"
"You still have the same number?" Allison looks at her with that piercing hunter's gaze and Lydia doesn't say it but she feels like Allison can probably read it in her eyes. I didn't change it in case you ever called.
"You'll call me, okay?" Lydia asks.
"Yeah," Allison nods. Her phone pings again.
"Someone needs you," Lydia says, raising an eyebrow at her.
"I really want you to meet her. Maybe we could do dinner tomorrow?" Allison smiles again and now it's her hopeful smile, the one she'd worn in the cafeteria when she'd first come up to their table.
"Yeah, I would like that," Lydia can't help but smile back.
"Okay, great. I'll, uh, I'll text you about the details?" Lydia opens the door for Allison. "Or call, right. Okay, bye," Allison calls just as her phone pings a third time and she hurries down the hallway to go help her girlfriend.
Lydia gets ready for bed soon after that since she can't concentrate on any of her work, not even the things she could do in her sleep. She's more than just tired, something deeper than sleep can fix, something bone deep and weary, melancholy cursing through her veins, making itself at home in the ventricles of her heart.
She lies in bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying desperately to go to sleep, but instead she gets a parade of memories, good and bad and everything in between. But when she closes her eyes it's even worse because every time she does she sees Allison dying, not anything she ever saw other than maybe in a banshee vision, but all the worst nightmares her mind could conjure up about that moment. Allison in pain, alone, cold, freezing, reaching out for a best friend that isn't there.
She's almost glad when the door cracks open, spilling light into the room, and Malia darts in. She doesn't turn on the light, doesn't need to either way, and Lydia props herself up on one elbow and follows Malia's movements around the room with her eyes.
"Hey," she whispers into the dark when Malia's put on her sleep shirt and Lydia can just make out the curve of her smile like the rising moon in the sky.
"Hey you," Malia whispers back and when Lydia lifts up her blanket Malia gets into the bed without asking questions.
Lydia turns over, Malia draping over her back and burying her face in Lydia's neck. It's like a barrier between her and the rest of the world and Lydia knows that Malia will keep her safe while she sleeps off the emotional exhaustion of the day.
"Go to bed, Lyds. I love you," Malia whispers into her ear.
"Love you too, pup," Lydia says, voice already heavy with sleep, and a moment later she's out like a light.
Allison looks at Lydia from across the cafeteria, something heavy and split-open aching in her chest. It's been almost two years since she last saw Lydia and that was under far more grim circumstances. She looks happy, genuinely so, not the faked kind of cheer or the sarcastic defense smile she put on in junior year. And she looks healthy, at home with herself and in her friend group.
Allison is fiercely glad of all this, and yet. And yet. She can't help the numb, desperate ache of thinking, all this happened without her. Lydia had to pick up all the pieces and Allison wasn't there to help her. Had she been alone? Or had those other girls helped her? The ones that sit with her now, laugh with her and share an orange with her.
Kira plops down next to her so that they can both look across the sea of heads to where Lydia is sitting.
"So that's her, hm?" Kira asks. taking a bite of her string cheese.
"Yeah, that's Lydia." Allison can't quite tear her eyes away, even though Lydia's back is to her and she's half hidden behind some other kids in leather jackets.
"You know, from all the stuff you told me I had a pretty vivid picture of her already but somehow ... she's even better."
Allison looks over at Kira, catches her scrunching her nose in that way that means she's embarrassed.
"Yeah, she has that effect on people," Allison can't help but smile. Lydia's always been more than anyone could capture in words.
"You know," Kira looks over at her, "she doesn't hate you."
Allison snorts. "I wouldn't blame her if she did."
"No, she doesn't, though," Kira's voice goes thoughtful. "She smelled sad when she saw you. And like longing." Kira is eyeing her, looking for a reaction.
Allison shakes her head, a rueful little smile on her face. "It was thoughtless to just – after all we've been through, after the way I left, and then for me to just walk up to her in the middle of lunch? I would've reacted the same way she did."
"She didn't though," Kira counters.
"What?"
"She didn't react. The other girl, the one with the," Kira makes her fingers into hooks above her eyebrows with an exaggerated frown, "she was the one who said we couldn't sit with them." She sighs, dropping her hands. "Pretty sure she hates us."
That makes Allison laugh, which was probably Kira's plan all along. "She doesn't even know us. How could she hate us?"
"How could Lydia hate you ?" Kira shoots back.
"She knows me."
"My point exactly," Kira says. Then, after a moment, she sobers. "You'll talk to her, though. Right?"
Allison shrugs, not wanting to admit that, no, she isn't planning on it. Avoiding Lydia until she forgets who Allison is seems like a much better idea. "I'm not sure she'll want me to."
"Ally," Kira starts, swinging one leg over the bench so she can turn fully towards her. She takes one of Allison's hands in hers to ground her. Her hands are just slightly sticky from the cheese she's been eating but the touch is comforting nonetheless, just like it always is. "if Lydia knows you only half as well as I know you, and since she's known you far longer than I have I know she does, she wants you in her life. Because you, Ally, you're this – wonderful, shining warrior woman but you still manage to be so soft and lovely. All edges and all curves.
You are absolutely amazing and I know you don't see yourself at all so as someone who cares for you very deeply I will tell you this: if Lydia knows what she's got in you she will fight for you. And clearly you care about her, from everything you've told me, so you should fight for her as well. It's not like you to give up. So yes, go talk to her, preferably somewhere private, and figure this whole thing out, okay?"
"Okay," Allison says, smiling softly at Kira's heartfelt words. "I care for you, too."
"You better," Kira smiles. "Now," she claps her hands. "I have to go figure out where my biology class is and I think you need to be heading to French, right? Though not back to France," she jokes.
"You're so funny," Allison says, but her face betrays her, grin stretched wide across her cheeks.
"Well if you say so, hon," Kira grins back and darts forward to press a kiss to Allison's lips before heading off in search of her classroom.
Allison looks after her, not for the first time wondering how she managed to get someone like Kira to stay with her. Kira turns around, as if she could tell Allison was looking at her, and waves, smile brilliantly bright, before she disappears around a corner and out of sight.
Allison backs up her bag and makes her way across the cafeteria, heading into the opposite direction, towards the language department. She's just walking down the steps outside the building when she sees Lydia and the other girl at the bottom of the stairs. She follows them, well she doesn't follow them, but it looks like maybe they're headed for the same class as her which would just be ... incredibly awkward.
Halfway through the walk to class Allison can tell Lydia says something – she's not actually close enough to hear – because the other girl tilts her head and takes Lydia's hand. Lydia doesn't look down, doesn't even falter, just keeps walking as if this is completely normal. It probably is.
And there's that achy feeling again, spreading through her chest like syrup, slow and thick, stealing her breath. Lydia had been her first best friend. Touch came easy to her, with her, and it was an almost constant connection between them. An arm in the crook of Allison's elbow, a leg pressed against hers under the table or an arm on her shoulder, Lydia asleep late on a movie night.
She'd never had something like it before and she'd reveled in it, savoring every touch, opening up to Lydia like a flower unfolding in the sunlight. She'd felt cold for months after moving to France. Shivering and lonely and isolated, and not even her dad could alleviate it. It wasn't the same. It wasn't ever the same.
With Kira it hadn't taken her nearly as long to build up the same kind of rapport. Maybe it was the added romantic aspect or maybe it was just that they weren't in high school anymore, both of them more grown, more open, able to let people in. Or maybe it was just Kira.
When Allison had heard, the rumors reaching their tendrils all the way to France, that there was a young kitsune in New York she almost couldn't believe it. She had to go see it for herself.
And she had to go see if the other rumors were true, rumors that the fox girl was dangerously out of control. Talk from different hunters about putting her down. Like they're talking about a rabid dog, Allison thinks with disgust and a picture of Gerard flashes through her mind and disgust turns into contempt. She has to protect this girl who doesn't even know the kind of danger she's in, who can't protect herself.
So Allison went to New York and met Kira. Shy, awkward, slightly clumsy and entirely adorable Kira.
She'd wanted to go back to the US anyways and so she offered to train Kira, as best as she could, teach her hand to hand and self defense, how to handle a gun. The rest, the kitsune parts, she'd have to learn from her mother.
They'd spent the whole summer training and hanging out, getting to know each other and their histories, and halfway through the summer on an entirely unremarkable day when they'd been walking through Central Park, Kira had leaned over and asked, all in one rush, "Can I kiss you?"
She'd tasted like hazelnut ice cream and summertime and she was everything Allison had never dared hope for.
She lets herself hope now as she watches Lydia and the other girl take their seats in the lecture hall, leaning into each other with ease.
She's restless all throughout the day, nervous energy buzzing under her skin like a beehive, making her jumpy and nervous. She tries to go for a run to work off the energy and instead ends up in front of Lydia's dorm building halfway through.
Before she can overthink it or chicken out she's rushing up the stairs two at a time, walking down the hall and –
She stops just before the door, one hand raised in a half finished knock. There's one of those little dry erase boards hanging on it with a cute little drawing of what she's pretty sure is supposed to be Princess Mononoke, a cute if not entirely accurate reference. The names 'Lydia & Malia' are written at the top in Lydia's loopy handwriting and under that, in blocky black letters it reads 'the Tate-Martin household.'
Allison had been pretty sure earlier that Lydia wasn't dating Malia (Actually she's just not sure whether Lydia is dating Malia or Erica. Or maybe both.) but this makes her doubt again, unsure of herself and where she and Lydia stand now, with their relationship in shambles and both of them so different from two years ago.
She almost turns around and runs like a coward when the girl from before, the one who'd sent them away in the caf, walks past her with a basket full of laundry.
"Just knock," she scoffs.
And it's not exactly kind but it's exactly the kind of push that Allison needs.
It's not as bad as Allison imagined it but somehow it's worse. Lydia's reaction is far kinder than what she expected, it's her own pain which is worse, so much worse than she'd thought it would be. All the times she played this particular conversation out in her head and she'd never quite pictured it like this. Wrenching her apart in the process of coming together.
When Lydia tells her side of the story Allison is surprised at herself by how unsurprised she is. Maybe deep down she'd known. Who knows.
And then Lydia pulls her in for a hug and it's like she's coming home all over again, stepping off a plane pales in comparison to stepping into Lydia's arms. Her tears fall without her say-so,cathartic like a bleeding wound, flushing out all the negative emotions, all the pent up guilt and anger. When it's all gone she feels empty in a good way. Like a blank slate or like fresh snow early in the morning when no living thing has walked on it and disturbed it yet.
Then her phone rings, Kira's melody, and the moment is – not broken exactly, more like dissolved, a fog that's suddenly cleared.
"It's Kira," she says, glancing down at the text. 'NEED UR HELP!!!!!' it reads. 'LIFE OR DEATH!!' It's not their emergency code word, though, so it's probably not a serious, life-threatening, supernatural problem. "She needs my help with something."
'Something' – after Allison has said her goodbyes to Lydia, made plans for dinner and ran halfway across campus – turns out to be a kitten stuck in a tree.
"I couldn't just leave it up there," Kira says, looking up at the kitten and then back at Allison. "And you're taller than me I thought maybe you could help me get it down?" There's a pleading little smile on her face.
"Kira," Allison sighs, "are we about to adopt a baby kitten?" She does her best to look stern and not like she just ran (distance??? what distance?).
"No, no, totally not. I mean, it probably has a collar or something with the owner's information."
"And if it doesn't?" Allison tries to suppress her smile, she knows what's coming.
"Well, we can't just leave it out here to starve. Look at it," Kira points up to the kitten which takes that moment to let out a miserable little mewl. "the poor little thing!"
"Okay," Allison laughs. "We're gonna get it down from there, and we'll see after that, okay?"
"Thank you, Ally! You're the best!" Kira says with a bright smile.
"Okay, c'mon. I'll give you a leg-up and you'll try to coax it down okay?"
"What?" Kira squeaks. "Me? I thought you were gonna climb up."
"You wanna save the kitten?" Allison shrugs, grinning like an idiot. "You gotta save the kitten."
"And here I thought you were gonna be my knight in shining armor," Kira grins back.
"Oh, I'll save you if you're ever stuck in a tree."
"Oh, ha ha, you're so funny." Kira rolls her eyes.
"If you say so," Allison shoots back with a wide grin which makes Kira roll her eyes even harder. "Okay, let's do this!"
Kira steps into her interlaced hands, one hand on Allison's shoulder and the other on the tree trunk as Allison slowly lifts her up until she can reach the branch that the kitten is sitting on.
"Hey, baby," Kira coos. "You want me to help you down off here?" She stretches out one hand to the terrified kitten. "That's right, just stay calm. You're gonna be safe with me, hm?" She lets the kitten sniff her hand for a second before scooping it up and pressing it to her chest. Allison lowers her back down until she can step onto the ground.
"That wasn't so bad, was it?" Kira says to the kitten. It's a tiny little thing, a ball of grey fur and blue eyes. It's clinging to Kira's cardigan and chewing on one of her knuckles with it's tiny teeth.
"Well, looks like it likes you," Allison says.
"Aw, jealous?" Kira smiles up at her.
"Of a kitten?" Allison raises one eyebrow.
"You totally are," Kira laughs, bright and happy.
The kitten's claws are caught in her cardigan and Kira's smiling down at it and she looks so beautiful Allison can't help but take a step closer. Kira looks up at her and Allison leans down to close the distance between them (though she is mindful of the kitten) and kisses Kira. Her lips are soft and Allison can feel Kira's smile against her mouth and then –
"Ow," something sharp is digging into her chest and when she looks down the kitten has turned its head towards her and its claws are clinging to her collarbone.
"Looks like it likes you, too," Kira laughs.
"Oh thanks, you're being really helpful, Kira. Here let me just, ouch, ouch," she pulls the kitten's claws from her chest only for the kitten to bury its other paw in her tank top.
"Just," Kira takes her hand, "put it right here, under its butt. Right, just like that. And smile!"
"Wha – " Allison looks up just in time for Kira to snap a picture with her phone. "Hey!"
"Aw, you're so cute. This is totally gonna be my new wallpaper."
"You," Allison tries to school her face into a glower, "are absolutely devious, Kira Yukimura."
"And that's what you love about me?"
"That and everything else," Allison says and leans in for another kiss.
"Oh," Kira says when they break apart, her face is illuminated by the evening sun, making her glow like she does in the flash of a camera, only softer, more gentle, less like a fox and more like something holy.
"Yeah?"
"You just told me you love me," Kira blinks up at her with wide eyes and Allison realizes that yeah, she just did. It'd felt natural, probably because she's been living with the knowledge for at least a month now.
"Is that okay?" Allison asks. She's suddenly, inexplicably, uncharacteristically nervous. But then Kira's face spreads into a slow, sweet smile, like watching the sunrise from atop the city.
"I love you too," Kira says and that's all the answer she needs.
They end up not getting home till much later because as it turns out the kitten does not have a collar and Kira agrees that they should hang up flyers around campus tomorrow, see if anyone's missing the kitten.
"But in the meantime we have to get it a little kitten bed. And some cat food. Wait, what do baby cats eat? Do they eat regular cat food?"
"I don't know," Allison replies, "but Google is your friend." She's distracted by the way the kitten presses its little skull into her hand when she scratches it behind the ears.
"You are so smitten with this kitten," Kira laughs and before Allison can stop her she's taken another picture.
"Okay, okay," she says a moment later, looking up from her phone. "I think I know what we need."
That turns out to be the easiest part.
Apparently there are not a whole lot of animal supply stores in a small university town in the middle of California. Most of them are small, privately owned businesses and apparently most of them don't keep opening hours later than 5pm. Who knew?
They finally manage to find one that's still open, though vastly empty aside from one bored teenage employee at the register. Their steps are loud on the tile floor as they walk down the aisles and Allison fights the urge to tiptoe because that would just be ridiculous; a grown woman, tiptoeing through a brightly illuminated pet store with a kitten clinging to her chest. They make quite a picture.
Allison mostly follows Kira around, listening to the little noises she makes as she inspects first one kind of cat litter then another. She wishes she could take a picture of Kira for a change, the way she reaches up to tug her hair behind her ear when it falls in her face, the way she gets distracted by something she's reading and stays frozen like that, hand halfway to her ear, a little crease forming between her eyebrows as she contemplates her options. She's everything.
The kitten falls asleep on the way home, one yawn, sticking its pink tongue out at them, and then it blinks twice and settles down in Allison's lap.
"What should we name it?" Kira whispers.
"Kira, it probably already has a name. And an owner. We're not keeping it." She sounds less convincing than she wants to be.
"Yeah, but until then we can't keep calling it kitten – oh, smitten! We're gonna call it Smitten!"
"Smitten, the kitten?"
"Let the record show that I hear the sarcasm in your voice but I choose not to respond to it," Kira sniffs. Then a moment later she giggles.
So they name the kitten Smitten because Kira is a huge dork (and Allison is just as bad as her).
"Oh, by the way," Allison says the next morning when they're getting ready. "I forgot to tell you yesterday but we're having dinner with Lydia tonight."
"What?" Kira shrieks, stuck in her shirt. Allison tugs the fabric down and puts her hands on Kira's shoulders in a reassuring gesture. Or maybe she's just trying to keep her from running away.
"I didn't think you'd mind," Allison says and there's just the tiniest hint of confused hurt tainting her voice.
"No, I'm not I just – why'd you only tell me about this now? I don't have enough time to prepare."
"Kira," Allison shakes her head with a fond smile. "Prepare?"
"What if she doesn't like me?" She tries not to sound plaintive and fails.
"Why wouldn't she like you?" Allison asks back and she sounds like she truly believes it.
"A – a myriad of reason – "
"Kira, she's gonna love you, I promise. Just be yourself." Allison gives her a bright, dimpled smile. "Walk me to Comparative Lit?"
Allison tells Kira about Lydia, her likes, her dislikes, what to talk about, what topics to avoid, all the way across campus. When they get to Allison's classroom she turns to Kira.
"Listen," she takes a deep breath. "If you don't – you don't have to – "
Before Allison can finish or, more likely, dig herself into a verbal hole so deep she'll dig up dinosaur bones, Kira pulls her into a hug. She has to stand on her tiptoes just to put her chin on Allison's shoulder but they make it work.
"Does that mean you'll come?" Allison whispers into her hair.
"Of course I'll come, silly. I was never not gonna come," Kira says. She lets go off Allison. "Now go and compare some literature, or whatever it is you do in Comparative Literature."
"Have fun finger painting," Allison calls after her and when Kira turns to look back at her there's a huge grin on her face.
When Kira gets to her painting class there's already more than a few students there, which makes sense since it's about two minutes before the start of class. In fact, the only free easel space left is right next to –
"Lydia Martin. You must be Kira." Lydia Martin is looking at her and holding out her hand for Kira to shake. Kira tries to glance down at her hands to judge how much tried paint is on her fingernails and decides, no way. She gives Lydia an awkward little wave and Lydia raises one perfect eyebrow. Everything about Lydia is polished, or at least disheveled in a very intentional, polished way; from the 'messy' braid to the shiny golden sandals. Kira feels incredibly inadequate. Lydia in her floral dress and her flowy cardigan looks like the embodiment of spring, except she looks even fancier like maybe the French word for spring, what was it again? Printemps, that's it. Lydia is the embodiment of the word printemps . All grace and fluidity and flower buds breaking through layers of snow. Fighting on in the face of stakes stacked impossibly high against you, and all that. Kira feels crummy in her uni-colored t-shirt and baggy flannel. The black of her jeans makes every paint splatter stand out a million times more, like glaring neon signs, 'Kira Yukimura: Professional Mess'.
"Hi," she tries to recover the moment by sliding onto the stool next to Lydia. "Yeah, that's me. Kira. Kira Yukimura."
"And you're dating Allison." Lydia has turned on her chair so she's facing Kira. The focus of her gaze makes Kira feel bare.
"Um, yeah. I am." She can't help her blush anymore than she can help the nervous fluttering of her hands, tugging her hair behind her ears. She wishes the ground would open up so she could delay this conversation just a little, until Allison is there, a familiar presence to act as a buffer between her and the scrutiny of Lydia's intense stare. She glances down at the floor but, nope, solid as ever.
"So, uh," Kira casts around for a possible conversation topic. Try to establish common ground, humanize the victim and the kill may just be quick and painless. Naturally she draws a blank on everything Allison just told her. Lydia meanwhile looks comfortable to let Kira dig her own grave. "Art," Kira says, for lack of anything better to talk about. "You like art?" She winces at herself.
Instead of waiting to see Lydia's expression, Kira bends down and starts pulling her art supplies out of her bag.
"Well," Lydia starts. Kira glances at her from the corner of her eye. Her lips are pursed and she's looking thoughtfully at the blank paper in front of her. "I'm in art class, so yeah, I like art. I mostly draw, though, so this is a foray into unknown waters for me."
"Oh, I'm sure you'll be great at it," Kira laughs awkwardly. "I mean, you're great at pretty much everything."
Lydia raises an eyebrow. Again. Somehow it's even more impressive than the first time. "A high compliment coming from someone who met me," she glances at her watch, "three minutes and forty seconds ago."
"Oh, sorry. I guess it feels like I know you – I mean, not like super well, I would never presume to know anything about you – I just mean from all the stuff Allison told me. But like, not that she told me a lot, I mean she definitely respected your privacy and stuff, just. She told me stories, you know? And you're kind of ridiculously important to her so, yeah..." she trails off. "Sorry."
"So, do you work with paint a lot?" Lydia asks, as if Kira hasn't said anything. Small mercies. "Do you prefer acrylic or oil?"
"Um, I mean I guess, yeah. I kind of try a little of everything," Kira says. And then, just in case she sounds like she's trying to brag, "Jack of all trades, master of none."
"Is better than master of one."
"Sorry?"
"That's how the full saying goes, 'Jack of all trades, master of none, though oftentimes better than master of one.' Means being good at a lot of things is better than being perfect at just one thing."
"Oh." Kira doesn't quite know what to say to that. "Well, uh. I usually prefer to work with acrylics because they dry faster than oil and I work on paper not canvas so drying is kinda important. But I'm pretty sure we'll get to try out all kindsa different sorts and methods so you'll be able to draw your own conclusions." Lydia snorts at that, it's refreshingly human. Kira is aware she is maybe putting Lydia on a pedestal just a little bit and that this is what's making her so ridiculously nervous but she can't really make herself stop and she's beating herself up about it even as she does it. Yay.
"I just hope we don't spend too much time with watercolors," Lydia says. "I'm too much of a perfectionist to work with watercolors." She makes a weird noise, an exaggerated shiver and Kira grins.
"Yeah, no. Me too. Like with acrylics and oil paints you can just slap on more paint, but watercolors? One wrong move and you're out." She makes a cutting motions with her hands.
Lydia's just opened her mouth to say something in reply when at the front of the class the teacher clears her throat, belatedly starting class.
Kira gives Lydia a small smile and when Lydia smiles back Kira thinks maybe this won't be so bad after all. Not that she thinks getting to know Lydia would be bad she'd just been firmly convinced that it would be bad as in she's gonna mess it up somehow. But maybe not.
Class is pretty dull, but Kira really hopes it's just a one time thing. They don't even paint anything.
"Well that was boring," Lydia says, turning towards her as soon as the bell rings. The teacher hasn't even stopped talking yet. (But then again she hasn't stopped talking since the start of class, so.)
"Yeah, kinda." Kira says with a shrug and a smile. "Next time will be better hopefully."
"Now that she's explained literally every single thing to us hopefully there's nothing else for her to do than let us paint."
"I hope so," Kira nods. "So," she says when it looks like Lydia's getting ready to leave, bag all packed and everything. "I guess I'll see you at dinner tonight?"
"Oh, yeah. Do you have any idea where we're going? Ally said she'd text me about it but," she shakes her phone back and forth with a shrug. Maybe in popular girl talk it's a universal symbol for 'no new messages'.
"Uh, no I don't," Kira says, scratching the back of her neck. "She actually only told me about it this morning so," she shrugs, "sorry."
"Don't worry about it," Lydia smiles. "Hey, what's your next class? Maybe I can walk you there?"
Kira's next class is Japanese which unfortunately happens to be in the exact opposite direction from Lydia's Advanced Biochemistry class.
"Well, see you later," Lydia says with a wave.
"Yeah, see ya," Kira waves back but Lydia's already turned around. Kira can't quite help but watch her walk away. Her hips sway gently as she waves at someone across the courtyard. Kira is inexplicably charmed.
heyo ally!! you forget abt sending lydia the info 4 our dinner?
did not! i'll call u
Kira has a second to open and read the text before her phone starts buzzing, Allison's face smiling back at her from the screen. Kira picks up.
"Hey," she says, drawing the word out.
"Hey," Allison says right back and Kira can hear the smile in her voice. "How are you, my love?"
"Did you know Lydia and I have art class together?"
"Finger painting?" Allison laughs. "I'd like to see that."
"Get your mind out of the gutter, Argent."
"Wha – " Allison sputters. "I wasn't even – you led me into the gutter!" Her laughter manages to sound bright and happy instead of tinny like all other laughter does over the phone. It's probably part of the Allison Argent charm. Phone lines don't dare to distort her beautiful sunshine laugh. She probably doesn't even cringe when she hears a recording of her own voice. It's unfair. Kira wishes she weren't surrounded by so many perfect people all the time. "This is all your fault," Allison is saying on the other end of the line.
"Anyway, pants on fire, how has your day been so far? You're aware that we've only had one class, right? And where are we eating dinner tonight?"
"My day has been great. Comparative Lit was very – "
"Incomparable?"
"Ha ha. It was good. There's one guy I can already tell is gonna be a douche. He doesn't have a neckbeard but it's like, implied. Can that be? Can someone have an implied neckbeard? A rhetorical neckbeard? The general air of having a neckbeard?"
"How long until he utters the words 'devil's advocate' do you think?"
"I think I'll have the whole douche bingo card by tomorrow," Allison says. Douche Bingo is something the two of them used to play back in New York, Kira surreptitiously trying to remember all her slots while making coffees and handing out change and Allison sitting in a window seat with her laptop open, waiting for Kira's shift to end. To beat boredom they invented a game called Dickwad Utilitarians Cause Harm Endlessly short for D.U.C.H.E. or douche. It's pretty much exactly what it sounds like.
"The thing that I don't understand," Allison goes on, "is how it's even possible for him to be this much of a dick. I mean it's Comp Lit, not Gender Studies or The History Of Feminism. Ugh!"
"Men always find a way to be assholes," Kira says, shaking her head slightly. A guy walking past her gives her the stink eye so she smiles back brightly and flips him off. "But you're deflecting. Where are we eating tonight?"
"The Greek place just off campus? Cheap prices and big portions, perfect for you starving artists, eh?"
"Aw, how thoughtful of you," Kira coos. "Are we gonna pick Lydia up or are we gonna meet her there?"
"Pick her up I think? I was thinking around about six thirty-ish?"
"Sounds good to me," Kira says.
"Great! So I'll see you at lunch?" Allison asks.
Kira groans, shaking her head. Then she feels silly because, duh, they're on the phone Allison can't see her. "No, I have to meet with my Bio study group at lunch so I'll probably just eat something from the vending machines there."
"Study group?"
"Yeah, we have our first big lab project which is also gonna be our final project. Don't worry, I won't be at the study group every lunch it's just this one time."
"Okay well, I'll miss you but I guess I'll see you at the dorm tonight?"
"You betcha!" Kira grins. "I've gotta get going to class but don't forget to text Lydia the deets. Bye, love you!"
"Love you, too!"
Kira stuffs her phone back into her pocket and picks up her pace. Better not be late for class.
The rest of the day passes at high speed, class after study group after class without a moment to spare, which is kind of exhausting but also kind of good because at least she doesn't have time to worry herself into knots. Until she's alone in her dorm room, of course, waiting for Allison to get home.
She finishes all her homework and reads a chapter of Good Omens and finally when there's nothing more to do she starts trying on outfits for the dinner, a path that can only lead to floors covered in clothes and general inability to make decisions. So really, it's not that different from a normal Wednesday.
Kira is standing in front of their shared closet, inspecting her reflection and frowning, when Allison finally arrives.
"Hey babe, how – woah! Did someone detonate our closet again?"
"Nah, just..." Kira trails off, gesturing around the room as if it explains anything.
"Cold feet?"
"Wet socks, maybe. I think the sink pipe is leaking again."
"No, really," Allison says, coming up behind Kira and hugging her. "You look amazing." She hooks her chin over Kira's shoulder, quite a feat because she actually has to bend down to be short enough to do it. She gestures at their reflection with one hand, her other hand is rubbing small circles into Kira's belly.
"Seriously?" Kira snorts, turning her head to look at Allison. "I'm wearing sweatpants and a school sweater."
"Yeah! And you already look amazing!" Allison grins at her and from this up close, Allison's sharp chin still digging into Kira's shoulder, it's almost too bright, like staring directly into the sun if the earth were only half as far away from the sun as it usually is.
"Thanks, Ally. You're the best," Kira says. Allison's smile turns soft and then she's bridging the distance between them and pulling Kira in for a kiss.
Kira twists around in her embrace until she's facing Allison because really, at this angle she's just gonna cramp her neck.
Allison's grip on her tightens and one of her hands slips under Kira's sweatshirt. As tantalizing as the feeling of Allison's hand on her bare skin may be, she has to stop this now because otherwise they're gonna get so distracted and be late for dinner.
"Okay, but really," Kira says, taking a step away. Allison pouts but luckily Kira is desensitized to her powers. "What should I wear?"
"Okay," Allison frowns thoughtfully. She turns slowly, surveying the chaos around them, clothes strewn across the floor and heaped on the bed. Then her face brightens. "How about," she plucks a black top with floral print off the floor, "this and... oh, this," she holds up a black skater skirt. "Hm?"
Kira considers for a moment, mostly just to make Allison nervous, before she says, "I mean, I s'pose it'll do." She tries to fight her grin.
Allison only rolls her eyes, though there's a fond smile tugging at her lips. "Well, you better put it on soon or else we're gonna be late."
"As if you weren't just the one making us late," Kira shoots back. She pulls the shirt over her head and pulls on a pair of tights before slipping into the skirt. She's pretty sure it actually belongs to Allison, but that's what happens when you share a closet, lines get blurred, shirts get stolen, tights get stretched.
"Alright, let's go then."