Author’s note:

Haven’t done one of these in a while!

I realized that I criminally neglected giving Grace a stuffie at any point, so she has one that she got early on from Pearce to be her a crib companion. Despite his needling and teasing her about it, Grace won’t admit to having named the hedgehog.

Brains.

“I’ll see you later, okay?” Connor said. “I’ll call you after this meeting.”

Brains hovered on the porch, fingers interlaced with his–boyfriend? Partner? The guy he was dating? He still hadn’t asked if they’d gotten to the point of labels yet, even after a month, and he didn’t know when it would be appropriate to ask. Still, he waited.

He blushed, but needed to ask something else. “Erm. I can kiss you, right?” His boy-part-dating-guy laughed. (He’s got such a nice laugh.) “You’ve got such a nice laugh.”

“You don’t need to ask every time,” Connor said, leaning in to press his lips on Brains.

As always, Brains’ brains deadlocked, freezing up when their bodies came together. He half expected his hair to stand straight up and smoke to start coming out his ears like a cartoon, but no hijinks played out around his head, and after a moment, they separated.

“But,” Connor continued, “I think it’s cute that you still do.”

“I love you,” Brains blurted, before he could catch himself. (Agh, no, no, it’s too soon–)

Connor’s smile deepened. “I love you too, Barry.”

It still felt strange that Connor used Brains’ real name and not his social group moniker, but he’d gotten used to it. And–

(He just said it back! He said it back!)

A stupid grin spreading on his face, Brains leaned in and kissed his love. They held the embrace until they both needed air.

Not wanting their romantic gesture to get Connor in trouble, Brains whispered, “Are you going to be late for your meeting?”

“You really are just constantly thoughtful, aren’t you?” Connor smiled so warmly Brains wondered if he should apply sunscreen. “You’re right, though, I should rush. Wonderful afternoon, can’t wait to see you again, I love you–text me?”

“Mhmm,” Brains said, in a daze. “Bye…”

“If your head’s still in the clouds in four hours, talk to your doctor,” Connor quipped, turning to scurry down the front sidewalk to his car.

Floating dreamily, Brains turned, hovering into his home.

The state of euphoria lasted about three seconds, then he saw Grace.

She was on the couch. Alone, wearing only a onesie and her diaper. Surrounded by a slight pee smell–nothing unusual for her of late, of course. Aside from all the normal, though, he could sense she was upset.

If he could sense she was upset, then something was definitely wrong. Her eyes were red, and she had a runny nose, though if she’d been crying she must have suddenly decided to wipe off her face and stop just before he walked inside.

Regardless, she needed him, so he left his giddy headspace and sat down to help a friend–she needed it, and even if it was a bit of a bummer, he didn’t mind.

“Something wrong?” he asked, taking up the opposite side of the couch from her.

She glanced over at him. He could see the thought playing in her head–she was asking herself, ‘Is it worth it to explain this to Brains’. He got that expression a lot.

“Sorry,” Brains clarified. “I know something’s wrong. I’d like to know what it is, and if there’s any way I can help.”

“Can you do magic?” Grace asked.

Though he expected her question was hypothetical, he answered, “No, sorry.”

“Do you have a million dollars?”

He shrugged and shook his head. “I’ve got some money in savings, but not like, that kind of money.”

Grace crossed her arms. “If I said I needed to borrow a hundred bucks, right now, no questions asked, would you give it to me?”

Reaching for his phone, Brains scrolled, looking for his banking app. “Let me check my balance–”

“Hypothetical, Brains, I’m not asking for money,” she said.

(She just did, twice, but…okay, sure.) “I’d give it to you, if I had it,” he said.

“Uh-huh. And what if I didn’t pay it back, and said I needed to borrow more?”

That seemed like a good enough time for a joke–something to lighten the mood a little and make her feel better. “I’d ask what drug dealer you pissed off.”

Her expression flattened, and she looked away.

(Ah, beans. Wrong time for a joke.) “I’d give it to you,” he said again. “And maybe ask if you were in trouble, if you needed something else.”

“Okay. How many times?” Grace asked. “How many times could I ask for help before you decided I wasn’t worth the expense and gave up?”

He actually did check his balance, then, doing a little math. “I guess, five. Then I’d have to find something else to help you, because, like…If I lend you money and can’t make rent, I’m not exactly making things better, I’m just digging a new hole.”

“Brains,” Grace said, “You’re not getting it.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, trying not to express too much annoyance at her refusal to be direct. “I’m not. You don’t actually need money, so what are you actually asking for?”

“I’m making a point,” Grace said, exasperated–Brains could tell by the way she threw her hands in the air for a moment. “There’s a certain point where, if someone asks for too much, you stop giving.”

“Yeah,” Brains said, “Because I’d be out of money. If a friend asks for help, you help them–until you can’t, at least.”

“No, it’s–You know what? Never mind. I’m fine. Nothing’s wrong.”

Brains knew she was lying, but also doubted he could get her to open up and admit the truth.

Shrugging, he got up. “Okay, well... Let me know if you do need any money, okay? I can–”

Grace shot him a look that communicated, ‘Seriously?’ about as well as any body language could, and he nodded.

“Right. Sorry. Bye.”

…

Melody.

“Muah,” Melody half said, breaking off from the kiss before leaning in for two more. Tilly was a dream, a delight to hang out with, and an excellent kisser–she’d been an excellent way to spend a Friday evening. Melody got two more quick pecks in before finally pulling away for good.

“Fantastic night,” Tilly said, checking her lipstick in the mirror and making a little pinkie-thumb phone gesture. “Call me?”

“Absolutely,” Melody promised, getting out of the car.

Tilly had dropped her in the alleyway out back, and Melody blew kisses at her most recent paramour until Tilly turned the corner, at which point she took out her phone, pulled up Tilly’s contact info, and erased it, strolling cheerfully to the back door.

No second dates.

No attachments.

Attachments brought complications, and she didn’t want to mess up her life.

Then again, she’d started to blow through the eligible dating pool in town… but that would be a problem for future Melody. Tonight, she just wanted simple relaxation.

Instead, walking into the kitchen, she found Pearce.

“Hey,” she said, walking past him to get to the fridge. She wanted a beer and something for a late snack.

“Hey,” Pearce said, looking up from the dishes he’d been scrubbing. “Grabbing a drink?”

“Yeah,” she said, grabbing the bottom shelf crap they always purchased–it didn’t matter about the taste, it was sixteen bucks for a twenty four pack.

“Grab me one too?” he asked.

“Sure.” Popping two tabs, she passed him one and sipped the other, giving him a slight side eye.

He noticed, unfortunately. “Don’t worry, Grace is asleep. I’m off the clock until morning.”

“Not what I was thinking,” Melody replied, throwing back her drink. If they were going to talk about this, she’d want a second beer. Lowering the can, she added, just in case, “Your bet isn’t my problem.”

He considered, flicking suds off his hands to pick up the can and take a sip. “Mind if I make it yours, just for a minute? I’m not asking you to care, I just want your opinion.”

“Ugh,” Melody said, rolling her eyes.

He shrugged, turning back to the dishes. “Fine, I won’t–”

“No, no, it’s fine, you just had to be polite and thoughtful and actually ask so now I can’t feel righteously pissy about it–and I’d been looking forward to feeling righteously pissy about it.” Melody admitted, setting aside the can and opening the fridge again. “Yeah, of course I can listen. What’s up?”

“It’s complicated.” Pearce stopped and wiped his hands off, abandoning the dishes for a moment. “You know the whole blowup a few days ago?”

“On Monday, right?” Melody grabbed a takeout box, peering inside–fried chicken, and still good. Perfect. “Only kinda, I steered clear of that whole mess.”

“I’ll summarize, I guess,” Pearce said, taking another sip of his beer. “So–ugh, okay. It’s like…so, she and I–”

Melody smirked, dumping chicken onto a microwave safe plate and popping it in. (Get to it, you’re almost there.)

“We…” Pearce started. “On Saturday, we fucked.”

He looked at her, waiting for the glimmer of recognition or surprise. Melody just shrugged. “Took you two long enough.”

He blinked, and his look of surprise was enough for Melody to no longer regret the conversation. “You knew?”

“I mean, duh,” Melody said. “You’re like–how do I put this? You two are a couple magnets. The only states you can exist in are repelled as far apart as you can get, or stuck together grinding all your bits together. Anything else is unstable and just going to fall apart as soon as the pressure goes away.”

Turning slightly pink, Pearce avoided answering, buying time with another swig of his beer. “So, anyways–I left, to go sleep in my bed, and I forgot my phone. I didn’t wake up on time.”

Melody winced. “Grace isn’t exactly a fan of things not sticking to schedule. You apologized, right?”

“I’m not done,” Pearce continued. “So she wakes up, and she noticed I’m asleep, and she just didn’t do anything. She left me sleeping until almost five in the evening.”

Wincing harder, Melody took her chicken out of the microwave. “Ouch. That’s a pretty harsh reaction.”

“Still not done,” Pearce continued.

“Oh, hell.”

“So when I am awake, and trying to figure out what I’m going to do after I lost a whole day, she just won’t get off my back, insisting that I broke a ton of rules, and I need to pay penalties for each of them.” He sighed, draining his drink. “It was like four hundred bucks.”

Melody whistled, returning to the fridge one last time and taking out two more beers. Extending one to Pearce, she waited. He initially didn’t take it, so she added, “Hey, you filled up the beer fund–at least get your money’s worth. That’s messed up, buddy.”

He accepted the can, popped the top, and let the foam drip over his fingers. “Still not done.”

(Seriously?) She widened her eyes, waiting for him to continue.

He obliged, using the can to gesture. “So–I was mad, right? I was pissed, and she was pissed, and she wouldn’t leave me alone, so I said she’d broken a bunch of rules and put her in time out.”

“Uh-huh.” Melody nodded. “So that’s when Brains texted me. Okay. Is that everything?”

“I guess.” Pearce sighed, leaning hard against the counter, looking like a balloon that’d started to deflate.

“So what do you need the opinion on?” Melody asked, sitting down to her microwaved dinner.

“We’re–we’re bad for each other, right?” Pearce asked. “She’s… she’s so focused on winning this stupid bet, she did that. I don’t know what to say, like, she had so many opportunities to make it better, and she kept taking the low road, and–fucking hell, am I crazy here? Is that not unreasonable to do?”

“Oh, no, she’s definitely unreasonable,” Melody agreed. “I’d point out that you’re still competing, though–hard to call her out too much when you won’t just walk away.”

“Sure, but like…” Pearce looked away, sighing for a moment. “Sorry, words. Trying to think how to say this. Yeah, I’m being selfish–I don’t want to prove her right. I give up, she’ll never let me hear the end of it, and…”

“And you can’t give her the satisfaction after she fucked you?” Melody raised an eyebrow. “Metaphorically. Not literally. Though, if you haven’t tried a strap–”

“That’s not it,” Pearce said. “I just, I thought she was starting to actually like me, you know? That we could be friends. Like you said, with the whole magnet thing, I thought we were starting to stick, and then it turns out that when it’s a decision between forcing me to lose this stupid bet and showing me a tiny shred of decency after a mistake, she’d rather win the bet.”

Melody whistled, but didn’t respond right away, busy chewing. Pearce gave her a slightly pleading look, hoping for validation of his feelings, but she didn’t give in until she’d swallowed–not because she needed to think about her opinion, she just didn’t like talking with her mouth full.

“So what’ve you been doing?” she asked. “Since Monday.”

“Treading water,” he admitted. “Or, not treading, I’ve been doing my job like a champ. She’s not going to catch me on any more rule breaks, not ever–I can’t give her more excuses to stab me in the back. I’m keeping her at an arm's length, not getting close again, because otherwise it’s like trying to hug sandpaper.”

“Right.” Melody frowned to one side. “Look, you want my advice? Forfeit. Give up, walk away, let her have her internal victory, and then once it’s over, I’ll tell her to stop talking about it. Only way to get this over is to rip the band aid off once and for all.”

“I can’t do that,” Pearce said. “Even if she’s not saying it out loud, it won’t feel like walking away, it’ll feel like losing.”

Shrugging, Melody said, “Okay, whatever. Keep wiping her ass, if you want. But you seem miserable right now. You’re trying to stay emotionally distant from a person you interact with like fifty times a day. That’s not going to change unless you change it. Attachment sucks, so just walk away.”

Pearce sighed, set down his beer, and turned back to the dishes. “Thanks, Mels.”

“Welcome,” she said. “Anytime.”

…

Skip

“Yes, yes, yes–” Skip’s smile spread across their face, pleasure building into a total climactic explosion, vibration pulsing up from their fingertips as their favorite toy seemed to celebrate with them.

The haptic controllers on their Nintendo switch really helped with immersion–and they’d just achieved a new highscore, to boot!

Removing their earbuds, they–

Sob.

(Oh no.)

Grace was crying, and they’d be an awful friend if they didn’t go talk to her and see what was wrong.

Or, well. Skip knew what was wrong. They needed to go talk to her anyways, and ask, and be told some half-truths from their friend, otherwise Skip’s conscience would eat away at them for a whole lot longer than the evening.

Aside from their conscience, though, it was the right thing to do–even if Grace wouldn’t learn much from the conversation. Maybe. And if not today, someday–she was thickheaded when it came to emotions, but enough repetition would get to her eventually, and until then, well…

Skip would just keep trying.

Rolling out of bed, they fumbled for their cell phone, turned on the flashlight, and walked to their door. With blackout curtains, it didn’t matter if it was the middle of the afternoon on a Sunday–it may as well have been pitch black midnight, without a flashlight, they couldn’t see a thing.

Swinging their door open, they followed the sound of sobs downstairs to the couch, arms wrapped around a plush hedgehog the size of a particularly poofy pillow.

She looked up at Skip’s entrance, wiping her eyes. “Sorry, I thought–I didn’t think you were home.”

“I was just doing some reading,” Skip lied.

(Why do I do that? She doesn’t care that I play video games.)

“I’ll be quieter,” Grace sniffed. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t apologize,” Skip assured her. Since Grace was laying across the couch on her back, there wasn’t any good place for them to sit, so they crossed their legs and plopped down next to her. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s dumb,” Grace insisted, looking down at the hedgehog. Her expression turned just a touch embarrassed, and she tossed it to the side. It bounced off the coffee table, rolling onto the floor beside her. She winced, glanced at Skip as though to see if they’d notice, and sheepishly picked the plush back up and set it off to her side.

“It’s not. You’re upset, you need to feel your feelings and process, otherwise you’re not going to feel any better,” Skip pointed out. “Just talk to me, okay?”

“It’s Pearce. I messed it up, I messed it up bad, and–” swallowing, she said, “And now I can’t fix it back the way it was.”

Pursing their lips, Skip said, “I don’t know if that’s true. What happened?”

Staring at the ceiling, Grace took a few breaths before explaining. “He stopped caring. I asked for too much, and…” Tears started welling up. “He realized I’m too much, and…”

Sobs, but good sobs. The sobs of processing, of finding herself and figuring out what she needed. Skip didn’t believe there was such a thing as bad crying, not unless you didn’t have anyone there with you to make things OK.

Once the crying had lowered, Skip promised, “You’re not too much.”

Grace took her plush and squeezed it tightly, pinning the hedgehog against her as though it might try and escape. “I am to him.”

“Really?” Skip asked. “Has he said that?”

“Basically.” Glancing at Skip, she opened her mouth, then looked away. “Can I tell you something stupid?”

Skip shrugged. “You can tell me something, I don’t believe it will be stupid.”

“I named the hedgehog,” Grace said, looking at the plushie on her chest.

Smiling, Skip said, “That’s not stu–”

“I named him John.”

Skip blinked. “John. That’s Pearce’s–”

“We don’t ever call him that,” Grace shot back. “He’s just Pearce, he’s only ‘John’ when he has to sign checks, so it’s not even really like I–”

“Grace,” Skip said, reaching out to touch her arm. “You need to do something. You clearly care about him, and just waiting around isn’t helping.”

“I tried!” Grace said. “I talked to him–twice. He shot me down. He’s not interested; as long as he has to keep being in charge of me, keep caring for me, he’s not going to be interested.”

Skip frowned. “So quit.”

“And make him think I don’t care?” Grace sat up, recoiling at the idea. “That I want him to stop?”

(Stop…making you wear diapers?) Skip wondered. “I don’t know what you have to do, but like… come on. Either do something or walk away. You’re not going to be happy until this is over, not if you’re constantly having to rely on a guy you’re this hung up on.”

Grace wiped her eyes and shook her head. “How can I make him stay with me when he won’t even stay for more than a conversation? Literally the only time he gives me attention is when he’s changing my diapers.”

“I don’t know.” Skip stood. “I hope you can figure that out.”

Looking up at them, a light flickered in Grace’s eyes, and she said, “Actually…I think I might have an idea.”