Chapter Text
After enough had died down to think, it was spent dragging their feet. Viper could admit to that. The days felt like they had been stretched out, the hours between the morning and the evening feeling long and strange - she lamented her ruined album, ordered new posters, and mostly just tried to keep from popping her stitches again. Shaundi stuck around, like some beautiful, permanent fixture in the Crib, lingering always just out of reach and a little wave away. It made Viper think, in the back of her head, every time her eyes landed on her, something like, whoa, as if she hadn't seen Shaundi nearly every day for over a decade. The woman was an enigma, and now, she was hers, and Viper still didn't know what to do with that.
The Crib was looking like home again, even with the shitty, purple leather couch Nick had ordered, as a compromise, while they were sleeping. It was tacky, but Viper had to admit, it was pretty comfortable. The entire team had settled into a quiet sort of calm, the kind that always came after a big storm. People were resting, healing up, and just trying to find their footing again.
Viper was no exception.
Mostly because she was properly confined to the Penthouse this time, no ifs, ands, or sneaking out with Pierce while everyone else was asleep. Nick told her, quote, 'I'll just shoot you myself this time if you do', and Viper wasn't totally convinced he was joking. She'd been reduced to ordering takeout, watching trash television, and trying not to think about her stitches too much. It was boring. So, so boring.
It had been a few days since they had told Nick and Pierce. The fallout had been minimal, mostly consisting of Nick's smug grin every time he saw them, and Pierce's quiet suffering whenever he had to listen to it. What was a butch to do, you know? Her brother was annoying, her girlfriend - Christ, that was still so weird to think - was hot, and Viper felt like if she restarted Nyteblade, she was going to bash her brains in.
So, date planning commenced. And it was going. Terribly.
"I don't know," Viper said for the third time, slouching into the hideous purple couch, "Everything's too much."
The remote was held in her good hand, her thumb resting over the buttons, as if she could find the answer in a rerun of Genetically Modified Shark Attack.
"You're making this too complicated." Nick replied, feet kicked up on the coffee table, "Just take her somewhere nice. Expensive. You're rich."
"We're not doing that." Viper grumbled, gesturing vaguely with the remote. "She'll think I'm trying too hard."
"You are trying too hard!" He said, a laugh bubbling up from his chest, "You've been trying too hard since you figured out you liked her! That's the whole point!"
Viper's nose wrinkled at that, her gaze fixed on the television, though she wasn't really watching it. "I don't know, man," Forth time, great, "I just wanna be, like - Cool about it!"
"Vee, it's Shaundi," Her brother replied, "Get high and watch a movie, she'll love it."
"Reductive." She said, a roll of her eyes, "She's more than that, you know. She-"
"Do not do this bit with me, right now." Nick interrupted, "I've had to sit through this for years. I have had to listen to you wax poetic about the way she, and I quote, 'fucks with her hair when she's thinking,' and how 'her laugh is, like, stupidly nice', and the ever-popular 'I don't know, man, she just... gets it'. I have had to listen to this since you did those stupid tricks to even get her in the Saints. Pick. Something."
"...I don't know, man, it's like -"
Throwing a pillow at the face of an injured woman should be illegal, Viper decided, as it collided with her face with a soft thud. "I swear to God, Viper, I'm not joking. I will have you thrown back in that hospital bed with no TV and a diet of nothing but jello."
"Man, the fuck you will! I'll chew my IV off and escape again!"
Nick sighed, and it was one of those deep, long-suffering sighs that he'd only ever perfected around his sister, and so Viper was standing before he'd even finished it, albeit with a slight wince. "Okay, okay! Fine! Jesus Christ, what is with everyone and their fucking threats today?"
"You're making it very easy." He replied, "Pick something. She likes weird shit, you like weird shit. Find a weird thing you can do together. Go to a museum, see a band, burn down an orphanage."
"We're probably not gonna do that first one, museums are kinda boring." Viper said, "And we can't go to a show, I'm not supposed to be in a crowd."
"So, second one is out, first one is a no-go," He counted off on his fingers, "And the last one is, you know, a felony."
"Only if we get caught," Viper replied, as she rounded the couch, eyes set on the kitchen, "I'll figure it out."
"You better."
As she slipped into the kitchen, eyeing the spot on the hardwood where she and Pierce had stood, Viper bleeding everywhere. Spotless as ever. Those cleaners did a damn good job, Viper had to give them that. Even after having people shot and stabbed and thrown off of things, the Crib always managed to look brand new.
Snatching a room temperature cola off the counter, Viper popped the tab with a hiss, the sound echoing in the quiet of the kitchen. She took a long drink, the cheap, sugary taste washing over her tongue, and leaned back against the counter. Okay, date stuff. How did people date? Weird shit... she liked weird shit. So did Shaundi. No weird shit with crowds... Okay. So, not a movie. Not a concert. Not a museum. Not... what else was there? Usually, she'd say, easy, we go shoot shit, but that was out, too. This was torture. Dating was stupid. Her therapist would probably say it was a good exercise in vulnerability. She thought her therapist was an idiot that she paid too damn much money.
Staring at a particularly interesting spot on the wall, Viper was lost in thought. What did she and Shaundi even do together? Watch TV, complain about Pierce, plan violent revenge on whoever was pissing them off that week, actually get that revenge... Then it was just Saints stuff. Well, Saints stuff, and then a lot of shopping, and designated driving. She rolled the thoughts around in her mind, letting them get lost and jumbled, before one jerked to the forefront, in bold lettering that she could practically hear.
Why the fuck don't I just ask Shaundi?
Yeah, go fucking figure. Just ask your girlfriend - wow, yeah, never got less weird. The fact that that hadn't been her first idea was a good sign that her brain was still mostly made of bricks. But then, that opened a whole new can of worms, because then she'd have to actually, you know, ask. Like a jackass. Hey, Shaundi, what do you want to do for our first actual date?
Wow, she sounded like a total tool, even in her own head. Great. Fan-fucking-tastic.
With a groan, Viper pushed off the counter, taking another swig of her cola as she wandered back into the living room. Nick was gone, probably to go bother someone else, and the hideous purple couch was empty, the TV blasting the fake screaming of a woman eaten by a Genetically Modified Shark. For a second, Viper considered just flopping back down and losing herself in the glorious stupidity of it all, but then she knew she'd get caught up on that and forget to find a way to not make herself look like an asshole, and then it'd be a new day. She was not fumbling this. She'd promised to kick so much ass, she proved that risking this was worth it, and Viper liked to make good on her promises.
Setting her can down on the coffee table, Viper squared her shoulders. Okay. Operation: Don't Look Like a Total Idiot was a go. She'd find Shaundi, and she'd just ask. Casual. No big deal. Just two people, who have known each other for a decade, who are now dating, and are trying to figure out a normal thing that couples do. Easy.
Yeah, Viper sat her ass down on the couch with a heavy sigh and a thump, and pulled out her phone. Her cheeks flushed with heat as she typed out the message, a certainty in her mind that the only way she was going to get through this without sounding like a complete dork was by removing the threat of immediate rejection by way of text. Viper wasn't a coward, she was efficient. Or, at least that's what she told herself.
(Transcript:
Yo, you got a minute?)
The text was sent, and Viper immediately felt like she was going to throw up. What a stupid thing to send. Of course Shaundi had a minute, she was probably just bored in her own room, or in the penthouse's gym, or doing something else that was cool and normal and not this - Okay, wow, self-depreciation spirals were getting bad. She made a note to tell that overpriced therapist about it.
Her phone pinged, and Viper nearly jumped out of her skin.
(Transcript:
Yeah, what's up? Did Pierce steal your keys again?)
A small laugh escaped Viper's lips. That was one hell of a night, chasing Pierce down in the parking garage before he managed to get into her car. She had not been as amused then as she was now, but it was funny in hindsight.
(Transcript:
Nah, he knows I’ll just shoot him this time. I wanted to ask if you had any ideas for a first date?
I’ve been trying to plan one, but I feel like a moron. IDK, I wanted to see what you thought?
I'm assuming a 'get high and watch shitty TV on the purple monstrosity Nick ordered' doesn't count as a date.
Viper snorted, a grin spreading across her face. God, this was so much easier when she wasn't overthinking it.
That's what nick said. I told him it was reductive.
Men 💔)
Another pause, and Viper waited, her thumb hovering over the screen, a strange sort of anticipation thrumming through her. This was it. This was the part where Shaundi said something cool and normal, and Viper would agree, and they would go do that thing, and everything would be fine. Or, Shaundi would say something completely insane that only she would think of, and Viper would have to figure out how to make that work. Either way, it was a win, really.
(Transcript:
Oh my God. Vee, I genuinely can't think of anything.
You're kidding.
Nope. My brain is blank. I just tried to think of something non-Saints related we could do, too. And I've got nothing.)
Viper's shoulders slumped, a wave of relief so strong washing over her that she felt dizzy. So, she wasn't the only one. She wasn't a total moron. They were just... two morons, together. It was beautiful. She thought, for a long few moments, about what she could say back to that - she wanted to reassure her, wanted to think of something incredibly romantic that would really put this girlfriend thing into perspective. So, she started typing.
(Transcript:
I have an idea.
Hit me.
We get high and watch TV on the not ugly couch at your apartment.
You are a woman wise beyond your years, Vee.
Is tonight too soon?
Sure isn't. Like, at seven? Eight?
Seven, trust.
See you then 💜)
The fluttering of Viper's heart was so light it felt like a bird trying to escape her ribcage. That stupid little purple heart, Jesus Christ. Shaundi was a monster. She was going to be the death of her, Viper was sure of it. Tossing her phone onto the couch cushion next to her, she let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, a wide, stupid grin spreading across her face before she could stop it. A date. A real, actual date, with Shaundi. Life genuinely just got so much more worth it again. Never kill yourself, you know? Something gay might happen to you soon.
Pushing herself up from the couch, Viper stretched, her shoulder twinging with a dull ache. Right. Okay. First things first, she needed to not look like she'd been dragged through a hedge backward and then shot. A shower was in order. A long one. And then, she had to find something to wear that wasn't a band tank and ripped jeans. Maybe jewelry. Date constituted a little outfit, right? Even if it was just on Shaundi's couch.
She was so fucking back.