thatsamilkshake | Room 505, Sunday Night

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Room 505, Sunday Night

This was stupid and Francine shouldn't be here; she should hole up in Momoko's room until this weekend thing wore off and she woke up back where she was supposed to be. But here she was.

Francine hadn't been here since yesterday morning. Francine hadn't been to the version of here she used to call hers since the sun had come out in Greenland months ago and she'd walked out of that other Fandom without looking back. But here she was.

Knowing now that this wasn't a nightmare or some kind of last-ditch effort by the vampires to drag them all back... didn't make knocking on this door any easier, or any less tempting. Or any less stupid.

But here she was, doing it anyway.

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Katchoo had . . . pretty much not left the room all weekend after that, no, and the fact that it took several long, shuffling minutes for her to get to the door and open it might have indicated as much, though possibly not as clearly as the fact that, honestly, she looked like shit when she opened it.

But in a very human way, at least?

"Fr --" She coughed, in a way that the waft of stale smoke from the open doorway would explain too fragrantly well. "Francine."

Yup. Possibly the dumbest thing she'd done in her life, and she'd done a lot of those. At the very least, the dumbest thing she'd done since turning around to look at Katchoo yesterday morning, before running out the door.

"You look like shit." Just in case she missed the streaks on the wrong side of the face and the fact that there were two, and might still think this was her Francine.

Just in case any of the other things slipped out that were pushing at the back of Francine's teeth like she'd swallowed live eels for breakfast.

"And you talk like me." No, that about covered everything the streaks that were all wrong for her Francine didn't. Katchoo ran a hand through her tangled mess of hair, sizing her up.

"Which means there's a story there."

Like shit was as technically accurate as you could get. Like you used to was one of the eels. Like my girl was a particularly sharp-toothed, electrified one.

"Somebody had to. You weren't around to do it anymore." Two seconds. Two seconds from turning on her heel and running.

"You mentioned that part yesterday." Katchoo was looking very, very pointedly at one of the streaks in not-her-Francine's hair. Reaching out cautiously with one hand, not in the right place for it but with all the body language of trying to see if a scared animal will shy away. Glancing back at the mirror in the room, then back at the unfamiliar white streak. "Thanks for that, I guess. Not forgetting me."

That explosion of sound from Francine's nose was either a laugh, or she was choking on a fish. Or both. "Like I could if I wanted to."

Katchoo's responding noise could have been an amused grunt or an attempt to clear her throat. Probably both, though. "Like I'd let you."

"Like you... like she has much of a choice about that?" Francine wrapped her arms around herself. "Where I come from, you're dead. Twice. Once when a vampire killed you, and once when Arthur and I did."

Stupid. Stupid to stand here saying that, stupid to stand here at all, looking. Close enough to reach out and touch her skin and see if it was cold.

"I --" And maybe Katchoo was closing a little of that remaining distance. Maybe she shouldn't be doing this, because it'd be making it worse, but like she could ever pretend Francine being upset didn't kill her at least a little bit?

And what the hell did you say to that? What wouldn't sound trite?

"God."

Yeah, that did too.

Francine, do not unwrap your ar-- that. That thing you just did right there. Or at the very least, stop your hand before it gets to her cheek. Exactly! Like that! Like that... thing you didn't just do there.

"You're warm." Grass is blue, sky is green, the usual.

"Dingy broad." She never meant that as an insult, but it came out unusually gentle even for Katchoo, and that might have had something to do with Francine's hand and her leaning into that touch, closing her eyes instinctively. "You only just now noticed?"

"I--" Francine closed her eyes, just for a second. What if I could stay here? What if what if what if what if... And then opened them and snatched her hand away like she'd been burned. "I was a little more focused on the fact that you existed, before."

At least she understood why Francine pulled away this time -- the low steady thrum of this is cruel this is cruel isn't it? in her head helped remind her. Didn't mean it didn't still hurt, just a little.

"Frikkin' Fandom." Katchoo ran the hand she'd been about to cup over Francine's through her hair instead; it was a completely transparent move, but what else was she going to do with it? "That shouldn't be a bad thing, dammit."

Francine snorted. "There are good things about Fandom?"

"Sometimes." Katchoo shook her head. "I meant me existing shouldn't be a bad thing."

"Never." And that was a lie, because the second time, yes, it had. Francine felt herself reaching again, and quickly shoved her hands under her arms. Something else. Talk about something else. Anything else.

"Merlin's still alive here too?" She knew the answer to that in July; in her own Fandom, it might easily not be the same today.

And Katchoo was looking at the second streak again, jaw tensing. Jumping Jesus on a pogo stick, this Francine's world was one messed up place.

"Yeah. Still alive."

"Please tell me he and Arthur are finally doing it like repressed medieval bunnies?" That would be something. Something that wasn't the same as things she wasn't talking about, but was. "Or is she still being a moron?"

Orrrrr that could slip out, as she jerked her head towards the room behind Katchoo.

Katchoo glanced over her shoulder toward the pushed-together beds. "The clue train pulled through the station here a while ago, for all of us. Did you -- figure it out sooner than we did?"

"Not soon enough." Like, before Katchoo left Houston, that would've been a good time. "But yeah. Arthur... your Arthur, he said I was dating Merlin here."

"That was --" Holy god. Had that whole coma-thing really happened that long ago? "You were, but it's been months now. You broke up with him at Homecoming for me."

It was safe to unwrap one hand if she used it to facepalm, right? "Smooth, Peters. Smoooooth."

"Just like butter," Katchoo intoned, unable to avoid a tiny, shaky laugh. "You're still friends, though. It worked out."

Homecoming. They had dances here. With spiked punch and gropy guys and teachers hanging out and looking pervy in the corners, if it was anything like she remembered Puncture High.

"We were there too. Except our breakup happened before we ever dated and involved a wall, Merlin's nose nearly getting busted, and you kissing me and telling him he needed to go *&$% Arthur into the mattress."

Katchoo ducked her head and let out a gruff, rasping chuckle. "Gawd. I like that version way better than mine -- did he spend months thinking I was going to strangle him afterward?"

She kind of wanted to ask how accurate other-her's directive had been, but no.

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