Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Your name is Calliope. You are sixteen years old.

Well, give or take. You’ve had to start counting in proper Earth years lately. Previously, you were counting in the “cycles” of your home planet (which was also Earth all along), but you’d never been entirely sure how much time that amounted to in sweeps or years. After some dicussion, you and your friends came to the conclusion that you were probably around the same age as everyone else, around sixteen years, or seven-and-a-bit sweeps. You even chose a birthday so you could start counting! And so, on Eleventh November (of coUrse!) of the first year on Earth C, you officially turned sixteen.

You’d never really had a hatchday party before. There were a lot of things you missed out on, growing up the way you did. Sleepovers, birthdays, outings with friends... all of these, you’ve now gotten to experience. You had your first sleepover with Roxy, your best friend in the world. She also played a pivotal role in your hatchday party, as well as taking you on plenty of outings. Jane, Jake, and even Dirk have invited you places as well, of course, but Roxy has made it practically routine.

In preparation for one such outing, you stand at the mirror, examining the dress you’ve alchemized; a black dress, made of the same starry fabric as Jade’s 3AM dress, but with a poofy, knee-length skirt and a little green belt, terminating in a bow in front. You’ve always been far more into menswear than dresses, and that’s still true, but you’ve been branching out a bit more on special occasions. Tonight, for example, Roxy is taking you to a fancy restaurant! While your typical tuxedo would be more than fancy enough for such a venue, a three-piece suit is practically casual on you.

Besides, you think Roxy will really like the dress.

You make your way downstairs and step outside. Roxy is already waiting for you – and she’s wearing a suit, the cheeky bugger. Void-blue blazer and slacks, a subtly pink shirt, purple tie. The cut is nothing particularly groundbreaking, but it's quite well-fitted.

You lift your hands up in a practised motion. Roxy floats up and grabs them, carrying you up, up, and away. This is by far your favourite method of transportation - seeing the city below you, the wind against your face, the velocity. It's the closest you'll ever get to flying yourself. Roxy continues to ramble about nothing in particular as she begins your descent, and you become very thankful for the matching 3am bloomers as you see four or five people looking up at you. You alight in front of the restaurant, and the group applauds mildly before going back to their business. 

You head in and take your seats, ordering two sodas as you settle in.

You blink a few times after he leaves, a bit confounded. Roxy notices your expression and pipes up in your defense.

She tries to sound casual, but you can tell she’s concerned. She’s sweet like that. You deflect, trying not to worry her.

It is most nights, though.

The waiter arrives like a knight in shining armour to save you from this uncomfortable topic, bringing both of you your food. Since coming to Earth, you’ve discovered the wonders of cooked meat. Humans too often overcook it, you’ve found, but a rare steak fits your palate perfecctly. You slather it in sweet, tangy barbecue sauce and begin eating. You’ve learned it’s best practice to use a fork and knife in public, rather than simply grabbing the damn thing and eating it like you normally would. You cut it up into pieces, wrestling it off your fork with your tongue. A few bites in, you catch Roxy smiling at you, her shrimp yet untouched.

Roxy grins, le-signing dreamily. The rest of the dinner is a relaxed affair. Quips, compliments, musings traded between bites, the food almost as appetizing as the company it’s enjoyed with. You leave, and Roxy flies you home. You live next door from each other, of course - after all, you do "rule" as twin "queens" of the Carapace Kingdom of Derspit, though you've gathered it's a largely ceremonial position. Notably, she drops you in front of her door, rather than your own.

She seems nervous, like she's not sure if she's saying the right thing, but that's not all that unusual. Both of you grew up socially isolated, so you're naturally both still learning the ins and outs of Hanging Out. It took you a long time to even be as comfortable as you are, and you still often get nervous that you've said something stupid, or misjudged a situation, or misread body language. Evidently, Roxy feels the same way, biting her lip and twiddling her thumbs as she stands awkwardly angled towards the door. You smile, making an effort to be as clearly affirmative as possible.

She kindly opens the door to let you inside first. Your hives may be mirror images of each other architecturally, but the furnishings make them almost unrecognizable. The violet architecture hasn’t been painted, but has been largely covered by posters, tapestries, and windows to various biomes across the planet. She plops down on the couch, patting the plush seat next to her. You join without a moment's hesitation, bringing your feet up to the couch with you as the two of you settle into each other.

Roxy's hands grab one of yours. Her soft fingers trace the firm carapace of your talons, occasionally pressing her fingertips to the sharp ends of yours. She does this, sometimes. It's helped you be a lot less self conscious about how dangerous your hands are.

Roxy doesn't answer, just smiles at you, her eyes flicking lazily between each of yours. The two of you have scooted quite close together over the course of this conversation, as is your way. You're endlessly thankful to have someone like Roxy to be so physical with. You've been a bit clingy ever since you got the chance to be, but you learned quickly that most people find that a bit overbearing. Jade and Roxy are the two big exceptions. Jade's a big hugger, of course, and always indulges your hand-holding, but Roxy seems to understand you far more implicitly. She doesn't simply indulge or enjoy your physical affection, she matches it, clinging to you the same way you cling to her. Roxy is the only person with whom you feel like you can fully indulge your touch-starved neuroses, and you suspect you fill the same role for her.

While you're pondering this, Roxy kisses you.

You gasp, your eyes fluttering closed. It feels... nice. It feels really nice. Her lips on yours, her hair brushing aganist your face... It makes your heart flutter. Hell, you can swear you feel the other one fluttering, too. One of Roxy's hands reaches up to cup your face, and you reflexively grip the one that's still holding yours. You get lost in it, your mind completely blank for the precious few seconds it lasts. Roxy pulls back, and your eyes remain closed for almost longer than the kiss itself. They finally flutter open, blinking bewildered at Roxy. A single thought finally finds its way to the forefront of your mind. Why did she kiss you just now?

You answer your own question with a question. Why do you think?

Your sense returns to you. Your face heats up, and a pit forms in your stomach. Roxy immediately notices the conflict on your face, her expression dropping to match.

Her face is deeply flushed. She's tugging at her necktie, eyes turned away from you. You're so bewildered, you forget to even try and be tactful.

Her eyes shoot back to you, with a horror that you'll never forgive yourself for inflicting upon your best friend. All that excess colour drains from her face.