I Let All That Get To My Head

by ieatedmeself

Summary:

“You should be nicer to Kim.” That gets Bonnie to stop walking.

Ange takes one more step than necessary, letting herself into Bonnie’s personal space. Bonnie has to crane her neck up to meet Ange’s gaze, which is absolutely unacceptable.

She gives Ange a grin that’s all teeth. “Listen, bossy.” Bonnie takes a half step, bringing herself even closer to this nuisance. “I don’t have to be anything.” This close to her and Bonnie can see the subtle way Ange narrows her eyes - can feel her breath on her face. “And I’ll treat Kim however I want to.” Bonnie kept her nails long, and she made sure to press one against the underside of Ange’s jaw. Hard enough that it will leave a crescent.

“What are you going to do about it?” Says Bonnie, voice low and smirking.

Ange doesn’t stop smiling at her.

“...That’s what I thought.” Whatever, this wasn’t worth it.

Notes:

I got carpal tunnel drawing too much KP yuri, so I'm trying my hand at writing instead.

This au is more OC and Bonnie focused, but Kim definitely does have her place. Legit this is a silly au I cooked up with my friends on a discord server. Don't take it seriously.

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

The gymnasium door slams open. Bonnie Rockwaller leads the group of four out into the hall, her brow a low line over her eyes. Behind her, Tara says something that makes her teeth grind.

“That was amazing, Kim! Wonderful!”

Bonnie doesn’t bother to look, but she knows Kim is being fawned over. She won't admit it but even she’s impressed. That routine was supposed to be impossible. Instead, it had been executed flawlessly.

Perfectly.

“How did you get that triple flip in the beginning? You were standing still.” Hope says.

When Kim smiles it makes the corners of her eyes crinkle. The thrill of making the team makes her cheeks flush. “It’s all in the legs. No big, really.” She’s a little prideful and a little shy.

“It’ll only get harder from here, K.” Says Bonnie, glancing coolly over her shoulder. A look she’d taken right out of Lonnie’s playbook. “So stay on your toes. If you can’t keep delivering, you can’t stay.”

“Obviously, B.” Kim grins right back at her. “I just hope you can keep up.”

If Bonnie rolled her eyes any harder, she could bowl with them. She was tired of looking at Kim’s stupid face. When Kim gets stopped by another girl, Bonnie keeps walking.

“Whatever, tin-teeth.” Is the last thing Kim hears before Bonnie turns the corner.

Finally, some peace and quiet-

“Did you make it?” Ange’s hand lands in Kim's. Their eyes meet, the only people like each other. Every detail noticed, every variable accounted for. Only, while Ange ponders, Kim acts.

Kim beams.

“I knew it!” Ange hugs Kim off her feet and twirls her until Kim starts laughing. “My sister, the cheerleader!”

“Oh, it was nothing.” Kim rubs her cheek against Ange’s until Ange lets her go. It takes a few more moments. Kim doesn’t mind. “Let's save the celebration for when I’m the head cheerleader.”

“That won't be long.” Ange says. If it were anyone else, Kim might have tried to be humble.

“Mom’s ready to take us home.” Ange gestures with her head towards the hall that leads to the parking lot. “Tell her to wait for a minute for me? I gotta take care of something.”

“Well, sure, but what is it?” Kim calls out to her. Ange has already disappeared around the corner. Most of the time, Kim was on the same wavelength as Ange. Sometimes they would surprise each other. Oh well, at least Kim could tell her mom the good news while they waited.

“Bonnie!”

Bonnie hears sneakers squeak on the linoleum floor approaching her. She turns and… It figures that the other Possible would come to annoy her too. Bonnie lets her eyelids fall halfway closed, unimpressed.

“This had better be good.” Bonnie doesn’t even bother to stop walking. “I’m kind of busy right now.”

“Oh, I’ll be quick then.” Ange catches up to her in easy strides. There’s a tilt of a smile on Ange’s face. To Bonnie's annoyance, Ange is a few inches taller than her. Simply unacceptable.

“Then spit it out-”

“You should be nicer to Kim.” That gets Bonnie to stop walking.

Ange takes one more step than necessary, letting herself into Bonnie’s personal space. Bonnie has to crane her neck up to meet Ange’s gaze, which is absolutely unacceptable.

She gives Ange a grin that’s all teeth. “Listen, bossy.” Bonnie takes a half step, bringing herself even closer to this nuisance. “I don’t have to be anything.” This close to her and Bonnie can see the subtle way Ange narrows her eyes - can feel her breath on her face. “And I’ll treat Kim however I want to.” Bonnie kept her nails long, and she made sure to press one against the underside of Ange’s jaw. Hard enough that it will leave a crescent.

“What are you going to do about it?” Says Bonnie, voice low and smirking.

Ange doesn’t stop smiling at her.

“...That’s what I thought.” Whatever, this wasn’t worth it.

 

---

 

“Angie,” The top of James Possible’s head peaks into view from the stairs leading to Ange’s and Kim’s attic room. “Your friend is here to see you.”

From the top bunk is a shuffle of noise. As Ange leans out over her bed, she catches a quirked eyebrow from Kim. Friends came in abundance to Ange, but none of them had been invited to her house before. Certainly, none have invited themselves over.

Ange gives Kim a grin.

“Be right there, papa.” Three years of track and field means flipping off the bed is no big. The landing is not as graceful as Kim would have made it. Ange decides to worry about that if she ever takes up the hero-ing business.

She follows her dad down the two sets of steps that lead to the front door.

Ange sees exactly who she expected to. Bonnie Rockwaller is tapping an impatient foot on her foyer. Her arms are crossed tightly over her chest. White sneakers, fitted white jeans, a turquoise blouse, big dark sunglasses, and a scarf wrapped fashionably around her head.

Ange makes sure to take notes. Her own style leans into sports casual. Normally that was fine, but… Bonnie looks Classy.

“Thank you, Mr. Possible.” Bonnie gives James a big smile. “Sorry again for dropping by unannounced.”

James returns it, dropping a big hand on Ange’s shoulder. “Oh, it’s alright. We’re used to people coming and going around here.” He gives it a squeeze, gives Ange a raise of an eyebrow. “Angie here’s never had someone over before, so it’s nice to meet one of her friends.”

Bonnie lowers her sunglasses to pierce Ange with her eyes. It’s a look that tells Ange Bonnie isn’t exactly surprised by this.

“Pops.” Ange says with a sigh. A parents duty to embarrass their child was a tradition James and Ann (and on occasion, Dolores) enjoyed to indulge. “Mind giving us a minute?”

“I’ll be in the lab if you need me.” James leaves, but not before ruffling Ange’s hair into an awkward mess. Any chance of looking remotely cool withers away.

“Angie,” Bonnie waits for the door to the basement (the lab?) to shut before addressing her. Her voice is saccharine. “My friend,” And sarcastic. “Could you please stop being an actual freak for a second and reverse this!”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.” Ange’s voice is dry. And sarcastic.

“You-” Bonnie actually stomps a foot at that. It’s adorable. Ange is certain if she said that out loud, Bonnie would have to figure out how to hide a body. “You know what you did, you weirdo!”

Ange just smiles at her. Bonnie actually growls, before reaching up and fishing a lock of hair out of her scarf.

“Wow.” Ange gives her an appraising look. “That color actually looks really nice on you.”

“Of course it does.” Says Bonnie with maybe a fraction less hostility. “Everything looks good on me.” She twirls a lock of neon yellow hair between her fingers before jabbing one at Ange. “But that doesn’t mean I want it. So reverse what you did, okay?”

“I haven’t the faintest idea what you mean.”

“Oh my god!” Bonnie throws up her hands. “What do you want from me, Possible?” They freeze on the way down as it dawns on her. She throws an offended, horrified look at Ange. “...You’re going too far.” Bonnie’s voice drops low.

Ange smiles at her. “I haven’t the faintest-”

“Okay, I get it!” Bonnie cuts her off. “I…” She inhales, knowing what she’s about to say will take a maximum amount of effort. “I promise I won't be mean to Kim! There, I’m doing what you asked. Happy?”

“I said you should be nice to her.” Ange corrects her. Bonnie bristles. “But..” Ange runs a quick calculation in her head and decides it’s better to have mercy before Bonnie actually gets physical with her. “I’ll take what I can get.”

She hands Bonnie a vial from the pocket in her sweat pants. “Mix this into your shampoo and it’ll wash right out.”

Bonnie clutches it into her fist like it owes her money.

“Whatever, freakazoid.” Bonnie leaves the scene with a haughty huff and the slam of the front door.

“Ange,” Ange turns towards the steps. Kim’s head peaks out at her from the top of the steps. Green eyes look at Ange wetly. “Did you dye Bonnie’s hair neon yellow for me?”

“Please, Kim.” Ange grins at her with lidded eyes. “That would be wrong.”

Kim tackles her so hard, Ange’s feet leave the floor.

Chapter 2: Chapter 2

"Alright class," Mr. Barkin's gravel voice quiets the noisy teens. "Mrs. Tomic is out sick for the rest of the week. I'll be in charge for the duration."

He sets both massive hands on the teacher's desk and glares out at the students until they shrink. "I won't be seeing any slacking or goofing off. Chemistry, unlike other subjects, can get dangerous." Satisfied that he had their attention, he picks up a clipboard. Presumably the class schedule.

Fifteen, awkward and gangly, Ange sits at the back of the class. Mrs. Tomic had sent her there hoping she could keep the troublemakers in line.

Ange couldn't, but she didn't mind.

From back here, she can watch the entire classroom. Ange observes her brethren nerds sitting in the first row, listening to Barkin start the lecture. The following rows are students who either care or don't. They certainly don't have the same passion as Ange does on the subject.

Movement at the corner of her eye makes Ange duck. A spitwad flies over her head and slaps into the wall beside her. Gross.

Ange looks at the offender. A boy bigger than most, wearing the Maddogs purple jersey grins at her. What was his name?

"Brick," A feminine voice, mocking and delighted, chimes in beside him. "You missed. Try again."

Right, Brick Flagg. Probably the future quarterback, once the senior one graduates out. Ange glances to his right. Normally, Brick is a nicer guy than this. But who could resist being egged on by a pretty girl.

Dwarfed by him and sitting like a queen is Bonnie. She's wearing the cheerleaders uniform proudly. The purple and yellow somehow enhance her skin tone. She's grinning at Ange. Glaring, really, but with a wide, perfect-teeth smile.

A pretty girl she certainly is.

Ange sees Brick inhale and sacrifices her notebook to block two more spitwads. Mega gross.

"FLAGG!" Barkin's roar makes everyone jump. "Don't think I can't see you in the back. Go see the principal." He shoves a finger towards the door.

Brick visibly droops. "Oh man." Under Barkin's gaze, he pathetically flops his things into his backpack and leaves the classroom.

Bonnie isn't smiling anymore as she glares at Ange. What Mr. Barkin says next gets Bonnie's - and everyone's attention.

"Mrs. Tomic has scheduled a group project."

Some people groan, others look at their best friends. Ange belongs to the former. Bonnie looks at Tara.

"And to ensure good grades, she's assigned partners." The entire classroom groans now. "I better not hear any whining. Mr. Atali your partner will be..."

Ange sighs and leans back into her seat. School time had a lot of pros in her book. Group projects were on the few cons list. There were always scheduling conflicts and a severe lack of passion from her peers. How was she supposed to work with someone who didn't even want to learn?

"Ms. Possible, you'll be working with Ms. Rockwaller this week."

Two sets of eyes snap to the front. "What?" Bonnie says incredulously. She stands up fast enough that her chair creaks on the ground. "You want me to work with-" Bonnie pauses to look at Ange. "That?"

A few of the students start snickering. Even though they were only sophomores, Bonnie had enough clout to influence who was it and who wasn't... It.

Ever since Ange had dyed Bonnie's hair as freshmen, Bonnie had never let her be it. She got the feeling Bonnie wouldn't have let her be it in the first place. Her last name was Possible.

"Yes, Ms. Rockwaller." Barkin fixes her with a stare until she sits back down. "You will be working with her.” He emphasizes the last word. “Unless you want to visit the principal too?"

Bonnie's chin falls onto a propped hand. "Fine." She surrenders. Ange sighs.

This is going to be a long week.

---

As students filter out of the classroom, Bonnie corners her.

"Possible." Bonnie's shorter than Ange by only an inch now. She must be going through a growth spurt.

"Listen up. I don't like repeating myself." Bonnie says as she takes a seat on top of Ange's desk. "I have cheer practice Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. We will meet on Tuesday and Thursday after school at the library and get this stupid project finished as fast as-" Bonnie blinks when she realizes what she's about to say. "Possible."

Ange lets her lip quirk once.

"I don't care how long we have to stay there, but we are going to be spending the least amount of time together, alright?" Bonnie has one leg crossed over the other. She starts examining her nails and doesn't look at Ange. "And if any problems arise, you can text me. I won't take your call. Got it?"

"I heard you." Ange says. Bonnie isn't looking at her, but she's looking at Bonnie. The way Bonnie holds herself fills up a room. If she could do that too, it might be useful one day.

"Good." Bonnie uncrosses her legs and steps onto the floor. "Then let's not talk until tomorrow."

"How can I text you?"

"What?" Bonnie finally looks at her, and she looks at her like she's stupid. Ange smiles, and it's full of mischief.

"I don't have a number to contact you."

A manicured hand holds out an open palm. "Phone."

Ange wonders if it's worth it to insist on manners. Probably not. She places a beat up flip phone into Bonnie's soft hand and watches as Bonnie starts to type her number in.

"I have club meetings on Tuesdays and Thursdays." Ange watches Bonnie's fingers pause. "Matheletes. It ends at four thirty." Bonnie actually cringes. Ange's smile turns into a grin.

"And the other days are reserved for my track and field meetings."

"Did you really have to choose the nerdiest sport too?" Bonnie shoves Ange's phone into her chest. Ange catches it before it can hit the floor.

"I'm compelled to be as nerdy as-" Ange's eyes crinkle with amusement. "Possible." Bonnie gags.

"So, let's meet up at my place instead. Tuesday and Thursday." Ange concedes. "Around six, maybe?"

"No way am I going to your place. We'll meet at mine." Bonnie flicks her eyes up and down Ange. A look that appraises everything wrong with Ange's appearance - from her wavey hair pulled into a messy bun, her shirt with a hole... singed? Into it, all the way down to her scuffed sneakers. "At five."

Bonnie turns towards the exit. "And wear something that's acceptable for public viewing or I won't let you in." She says right before she leaves the room.

Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Notes:

Donavan is actually an OC I made specifically for this AU and he's really worming his way into my heart.

Ange is filtering her papers into her backpack fifteen minutes early. "Bye Donavan." She glances briefly at her friend as she zips up. "I wish I could stay longer, but.."

"Say no more, Angelus." Donavan pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. He's a short boy, with messy blonde hair and a pocket protector in his breast pocket. Awkward, but practical. Ange couldn't fault him for it. "I understand the predicament you're in."

As the only two members of the matheletes club, cutting a meet short wasn't a big deal. It still made Ange's heart pang. She was just getting good at the speed rounds!

Scary girls had to take priority right now.

"I'll see you later." Ange hikes her pack over her shoulder and smiles warmly at Donavan. He gives her a grave nod.

"I'll await your return if you can survive Ms. Rockwaller."

"Ha!" Ange barks a laugh. "Bonnie isn't that bad.... well she is, but it feels mean saying it." Donavan exhales through his nose.

The parking lot is completely empty, save for the bike she took to school especially for this trip. Bonnie's house was in the opposite direction of her own. She didn't feel like walking the entire three and a half miles back.

Ange swings a leg over the seat and starts peddling.

Living at home, there wasn't much privacy. Of course, kim left every other day to finish some mission so Ange often had hours alone. She was just never certain when kim would return - or what state she'd be in. So, not a lot of privacy, and usually it was spent worrying about her favorite, hyper-competent as she was, sibling.

Maybe she should take up some sort of stealth training and join her once and a while. Ron was a very good boy. Ange didn't have confidence in him.

Peddling away from school and home, she finally has time that just belongs to her. It's nice. Ange feels the cold wind pull at her hair. She watches the clouds float around the sky. She reflects on the day she had.

A quick breakfast with the family. School, which was always enjoyable, had been extra nice since no one had paid attention to her. Sometimes, some of the girls in the halls would look at her and whisper to each other. Then they'd laugh. She wasn't sure why (she suspected Bonnie had something to do with it) they did that. It always left her with an awful heat in her gut. She ignored it.

At least no one shoved her in lockers. They did to Donavan. The janitor had started to get annoyed by how many times Donavan ended up in a locker, so Ange had learned to crack a lock this year. It spared them both the growled lecture.

Like it was their fault.

Speaking of Bonnie. The smile on Ange's face faded as she pulled up to the address. Bonnie, Bonnie. The source of half her problems. And now she'd have to spend an evening with her.

Bonnie really could decide who was it and who wasn't. It had been different in middle school, but then...

As a freshman, she'd sat at lunch with the chess club. The outcasts had welcomed her when the popular kids hadn't. Then, too many of the boys there had started looking at her, and the girls had started glaring. This year, Ange started eating in the library over a book instead.

If she asked, Kim would let her sit with her friends. Sometimes she did that, but it always highlighted how small her social circle was in comparison.

It's not like Ange really disliked Bonnie. She was funny, quick witted, and adorable when Ange could get under her skin. If she didn't spend her time making Ange's life miserable, Ange liked to think they could even be friends.

Unfortunately, Bonnie had decided that wouldn't be possible.

Ange chewed on the inside of her lip as she dismounted her bike. She wheeled it behind a hedge and then made her way to the front door.

A deep breath. A carefully neutral smile. A knock on the door.

---

The door opens.

A taller woman stares down at her. Her hair is blonde and coifed perfectly. Her eyes are the same shade of turquoise as Bonnie's. They even share the same look of contempt.

"Who are you?" Says the woman.

"I'm here to see Bonnie." Ange replies. "My name is An-"

"Whatever." The woman actually puts a hand in front of Ange's face to get her to stop talking. She leans back into the house and calls down the hallway.

"Bonnie, one of your-" the woman looks at Ange again, up and down. Ange realizes it's the same look Bonnie gave her yesterday at Chemistry. "Loser friends is here."

Damn.

Ange was wearing a red bolero jacket with a graphic tee underneath. Her pants were ripped and black, and her red sneakers were chunky. She'd tried today!

She hears feet pad down the hall. Bonnie comes into view by pushing away the woman. "Oh my God, she's not my friend."

"Huh. I thought you were losing your taste. It's the only good thing about you."

Ange catches a flash of something on Bonnie's face before Bonnie rolls her eyes. "Get lost, Lonnie. I'll take care of this."

Lonnie throws her hands up in the air and starts to walk away.

Her glare goes from Lonnie to Ange. Ange's outfit must be acceptable to her, since she steps back to let Ange into the house. "You couldn't have texted?"

"Sorry, I didn't know that was standard." Ange ignores the glare and accepts the silent invitation. "I wouldn't have met your mom if I'd texted, anyway." She adds, maintaining eye contact with Bonnie.

The sound of someone tripping and swearing floats over her shoulder.

Bonnie blinks at her.

"She's not my mom." Bonnie starts to lead Ange towards her room. "She's my sister. My way older sister."

Bonnie actually grins when Lonnie calls after them. "You're just jealous because I'm-" The door slams shut, muffling whatever came next. Bonnie leans on it and sighs, then stares at Ange. It's calculating.

Ange looks around. Bonnie's room is very neat and very pink. A bed that's been made perfectly, a desk with papers stacked aside. There's even a large bookcase that's filled completely. In the shelves are books that look worn from use.

The room smells pleasantly like Bonnie's perfume.

Ange makes herself at home by pulling up a chair at Bonnie's desk. She sits on it backwards for cool points. "For this project, I'm thinking we can experiment with-"

"Stop talking, Possible."

Ange stops talking.

Bonnie folds herself primly on her bed. She pulls her backpack onto her lap so she can pull out her chemistry notes and textbook. "I want to do something good this project. Not something stupid like a baking soda volcano."

Bonnie sneers. "Think you can manage that?"

"So you care about your grade?" Ange rests her chin on her forearms and watches Bonnie's attention snap to her.

"Of course I do!" Bonnie says. Her eyes rage. "I'm planning to get into a good college, Possible. I'm not stupid."

"I didn't think you were." Ange murmurs. It's not an apology, just a statement. She pulls out her own notebook (wiped and sanitized of all spitwads) and flips to the last page she'd written on. Notes are packed into each line with a messy scrawl. "Some people don't care about class, is all."

"Well I do." Bonnie supposes that if she's going to be stuck working with a loser, at least it's a loser that's willing to put in effort.

"Good. If we want a project that will impress Mrs. Tomic- er.. Barkin, I was thinking we could discover a new polymer. Bonus points if its actually useful." Ange points at a few molecular formulas. "I have a few that haven't been made that, in theory, could be, uh, made."

Bonnie stares at her like she's stupid. Ange is starting to get tired of being looked at that way.

"... well what's your idea?" Ange says helplessly. Her question blooms a complicated expression on Bonnie's face.

"Listen." Bonnie sets her things to the side. "I want a good project, and a good grade." There's a moment where Bonnie looks almost.. vulnerable? Then she schools herself and gives Ange a piercing stare.

It fascinates her.

"But I don't.. get it." Bonnie looks prepared to be challenged. "Who does, besides losers. It's chemistry."

Ah. "I don't think anyone understands chemistry, even experts." There's understanding in Ange's eyes. Bonnie looks away first. "If you get specific enough it blurs into physics, and no one understands that either. But physics can also become chemistry, which means the line is too blurry to quantify. We can use generalizations though, and that usually gets us far enough to make something interesting. Though I think it's better when those generalizations lead to something-"

"Ange, be quiet."

Ange stops talking.

"Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?"

There's an uncomfortable, lonely heat in Ange's chest. She pushes it to the side and changes the subject. "I can teach you about it." Ange offers tentatively. "For the project, I mean. Since you want a good grade."

She wasn't quick enough, Ange realizes. She can see Bonnie looking at her, mildly regretful. She's more observant than Ange had assumed.

"Okay, sure." The agreement is as close to an apology Bonnie is willing to give. "And, like, I want to chose the poly-whatever it is that we're going to make. I don't want you taking all the credit."

Ange smiles. The tension in the room lifts a little. "Then let's get started."

Chapter 4: Chapter 4

On Wednesday Ange holds open the front door to school. She gives Ron a fist bump, Monique a smile, and Kim a kiss on her cheek as the trio make their way inside. Kim grins at her.

 

"See you after practice." Kim says over her shoulder. Ange hums her affirmation. Kim heads to the right, down the hall towards her locker. Ange hooks a left and makes her way to her own.

 

She pulls her English literature textbook out from behind her vials of xenon. She's saving those for the ion thruster she's assembling in the supply closet of the woodworking classroom. 

 

Mr. Palm had given her the only key after she'd gifted him a carbon laser to sharpen his equipment.

 

When she closes the door, Donovan's serious face is revealed. 

 

"Hey Donavan." He never lets anyone call him Don, and he always calls her-

 

"Angelus." Donavan greets her. "Pleasant morning. Did you read the paper Professor Haley and Dr. Estrella released last night?"

 

"You mean on converting anti-matter to matter and vice versa?" Donavan nods. Ange starts to walk to class. English is the only class she shares with Donavan (which is really a shame because they were a powerhouse in their science class freshmen year), so they'd started the tradition of escorting whoever came to school last from their locker. "It was brilliant, but they never addressed how they'd deal with the reality warping that comes with it."

 

Donavan adjusts the strap to his too large backpack. He likes to keep a full set of mathematical tools on him at all times. He had everything from a set square to a protractor in there. And a backup set just in case he lost anything. "It's all theory anyway." But he sighs, disappointed. He wanted theory implemented into reality as much as she did. 

 

"Still, it's a step closer." Donavan adds, eyes gleaming in delight behind his thick glasses. "Soon we will be able to alchemize our own elements. Hopefully."

 

"I don't know..." Ange holds the door to class for Donavan too. Donavan steps inside. "I'm still waiting for Professor Clavice and MIT to make a rebuttal-"

 

A foot tangles into Donavan's stride. His momentum is interrupted. The momentum of his backpack isn't. 

 

The yelp dies in his throat when Ange grabs the handle on Donavan's pack. 

 

"Max!" Ange simultaneously straightens Donavan out and glares at the boy who tripped her friend. 

 

Max Falcon sits so casually at his desk he practically melts into his chair. As the star running back- responsible for the winning touchdowns in the last three football games - nothing bothers him. 

 

"Why do you have to be so ferociously uncool?" 

 

Max lazily withdraws his foot and gives Ange. A. Look. It even manages to make Ange feel foolish, not that she would ever show him weakness. 

 

Broad shoulders, long legs, blue eyes and blonde hair that falls over said eyes just so, Max Falcon is anything but uncool. If all you care about is looks, Ange mentally corrects herself.

 

Unfortunately, this is high-school.

 

"Stop worrying so much." He yawns out. "I didn't do anything. Don's just clumsy."

 

"Donavan." Donavan mutters and Ange says.

 

That actually makes Max look briefly amused. "Did you see me do anything?" He calls over the shoulder to the posse surrounding him. A few boys from the football team, a few girls who are staring at Ange the way one might look at the rotting corpse of a mouse - with disgust and not worth their time. 

 

"We didn't see nothin'." Keon, one of the boys, smirks. "Have your boyfriend watch his step." A few of the girls giggle at Ange.

 

Donavan flushes behind Ange. "It's alright, Angelus-"

 

Ange looks at Donavan like he's crazy, then turns to Keon. "Don't say it like it's an insult. Any girl would be lucky to date Donavan." 

 

"So you two are dating." Max quips.

 

"Of course not. But I understand if you have trouble with the concept of fostering a relationship with the opposite sex without thinking with your..." Ange glances at him. Even Bonnie would be proud at the disdain Ange manages to put into the motion. "He's my friend, who is a boy. That's all." 

 

Keon mocks a wince, and bumps Max's shoulder with his fist. "Damn, Ange. That's fuckin harsh."

 

"Language." Ange mutters, eyes narrowing with disguised confusion. What did she do? 

 

"Angelus!" The tone in Donavan's voice gets her to look away from Max and at him. He looks like he's trying to stay composed. "Let's stop wasting our breath on these Neanderthals and sit down." 

 

"Hey!" Keon gets up from his chair fast enough it topples over. "Who're you calling a Neanderthal, bro." On his feet, he towers over Ange and Donavan. 

 

Donavan swallows. 

 

"You think I'm stupid?" Keon asks. 

 

There's a beat too long of silence before Donavan finds his voice. "I-I didn't mean it like that."

 

Ange's presence between Keon and Donavan is perhaps the only reason Donavan hasn't been hurt already. 

 

"What did you mean, huh?" 

 

She casts a helpless look towards Max. This sitch was spiraling out of control. Unfortunately, Max seems too amused to let this stop. He meets her gaze and pointedly leans back in his chair.

 

"I think he was calling us stupid, man."

 

That's right, Ange realizes. He's one of the many boys who makes a hobby of shoving Donavan into lockers. 

 

"Out of the way, Possible."

 

Keon takes a terrifying step towards Donavan - towards Ange who is standing in front of Donavan. He's not rough when he places a huge hand on Ange's shoulder and forcefully shoves her back towards the doorway.

 

He's not gentle either. 

 

If she was Kim, Keon's body would have been used to snap a desk in half. Let's be real. If she was Kim, he would have never had the guts to approach them in the first place.

 

She's not Kim.

 

"Hey-" Ange flails, starts to correct herself when she sees someone walk through the doorway.

 

Instinct takes over. 

 

She stutter steps to eat up the inertia. It's enough to stop herself from completely bowling over this unwitting victim. It's not enough to stop herself from hitting them - her, they're a girl, Ange notices. 

 

Ange crashes into her. Quickly, she wraps her hand up above the nape of the girl's slender neck and around the back of her head. She hisses when the back of that hand smashes into the doorframe. That doesn't stop Ange from using the other one to grab the other side of the doorframe and grab down hard. They've stopped.

 

Blue eyes lock onto turquoise.

 

Bonnie looks bewildered as she stares up at an equally flummoxed Ange.

 

She's only an inch shorter than Ange, the analytical part of Ange catalogues in the back of her mind. Her eyes are beautiful, a ridiculous part of her notes.

 

Those eyes look over Ange's shoulder, breaking whatever trance Ange has found herself in. "Keon!" Bonnie has gathered what has happened in an instant.

 

It's obvious when Keon has the collar of one of the school's biggest losers clenched in his hand. Keon's other fist freezes in place, inches from Donavan's face. 

 

The school's most popular cheerleader did not sound happy. 

 

"What the fuck are you doing!?" Bonnie somehow makes it sound ladylike. Ange steps back quickly, out of the way of Bonnie's rage. "You almost - put him down - killed me!" 

 

Keon's grip slackens enough for Donavan to scramble away. Ange meets up with him and guides him towards their desks. They're both staring as Bonnie starts to lay into the jock.

 

"We're practicing for nationals and I'm the top of the pyramid." Keon actually steps back when Bonnie stabs a finger into his chest. Ange knows from experience how sharp Bonnie keeps her nails. "I am not going to sit that out because you decide to throw some nobody at me!" 

 

Keon winces. Max and the others in his posse look on with wide eyes. 

 

"Because otherwise, I'll have to give that up to Possible. And if I have to step aside for Kim I will taze your balls so hard you can slap them on a plate and call them Colorado Mountain oysters. Do you understand? Nod if you understand." 

 

Keon nods.

 

Bonnie pulls her hand back to examine her nails. Satisfied that none are chipped, she gives Keon a smile that sends a chill down his spine. 

 

"Great." Her voice is overly sweet. Bonnie sits down besides Max. Surrounded by football players and pretty girls, she stands out like a swan among ducks. "Now you will not believe what I just heard Clara say about Phil." Everyone leans in to hear whatever gossip she's about to dish out.

 

Donavan falls into his chair. Ange slumps into hers right beside him and they both tune out the chatter. The look they share is of mutual understanding.

 

Popular people are scary. 

 

Chapter 5: Chapter 5

Notes:

This is the last of the backlog, so updates are gonna be a bit slower.

Chemistry is Ange's last class of the day. Also her second favorite, right behind her AP trigonometry class. 

 

The room is buzzing with various conversations. Every student has a clique they belong to. Some are big and some are small. Bonnie, who is once again sitting on top of Ange's desk, is surrounded by the biggest. 

 

A group of six girls are crowded around Bonnie. Ange actually take a moment to marvel at the sight. She'd never thought she'd see her own desk surrounded by so many people.

 

As she approaches, Ange hears what they're talking about.

 

"I'm telling you, he's absolutely gorg." One of the girls says. "I think he's going to be the next quarterback as soon as Lucas graduates." Of course they're talking about boys.

 

"He's so tall, too." Tara, one of the girls Ange actually recognizes, adds. Tara bumps her shoulder against Bonnie's. "You two would look so good together."

 

"I'd look good with anyone." Bonnie smirks at her. "But... Brick is pretty cute. And tall." She agrees. "Maybe I'll have him ask me out." She pauses to think for a moment. "After he becomes quarterback." 

 

He was also dumber than dirt about anything that wasn't football. Ange wonders if that's a plus or minus when it comes to dating. 

 

"Hi girls." 

 

Seven pairs of eyes look at her. Ange can tell a few of them are surprised she even dared to interrupt. "Mind making some room?" She nods her head to the empty corner on Bonnie's right. "So I can sit?" 

 

Some of the girls turn to Bonnie for guidance. Tara smiles at her, which Ange returns. Bonnie just sighs and scoots back on the table so Ange has enough room to slide into her seat without touching her legs. 

 

Her turquoise eyes are calculating as she assesses Ange. Slowly, Bonnie's perfect lips shape into a smirk.

 

"Hey Ange." Bonnie leans her weight on her right arm, letting her head rest against the propped shoulder. She's lounging the way a big cat might. At least Ange thinks so. "Which of the boys do you like?" 

 

"Huh?" Ange looks at Bonnie in complete surprise. "Boys?" Ange realizes she's missing something when she catches the other girls gleefully observing her. Still, she takes a moment to consider.

 

"I haven't really thought about it." She concludes. Bonnie scoffs, a girl snorts. Tara just looks amused.

 

"C'mon Ange, no need to be embarrassed. There's gotta be someone." Tara says, though it's not unkind. "There's too many cute boys in this school not to like one."

 

"We heard how you friendzoned that one boy- Don? This morning." Another girl says, unkindly this time. "So if it isn't him, who is it?"

 

"Donavan is my friend." Ange corrects. She is definitely missing something. The way the girls are looking at her almost feels oppressive. She lets it wash off of her like water on a stone. The only way to get them off of this topic would be to answer their question.

 

"Well, if I had to pick," Ange taps a finger to her chin in thought. She misses the way Bonnie's eyes narrow. "I suppose Josh is rather handsome. I enjoyed his exhibit at the art festival last year."

 

"Josh?!" One of the girls laughs. "You have a crush on Josh Mankey?" 

 

The others start tittering. Bonnie raises an eyebrow. When she speaks, her voice is almost soothing. At least it would be if what she says isn't so harsh. 

 

"Ange, you have got to be kidding. He'd never date someone so low on the totem pole." 

 

Instead of looking offended like Bonnie expects her too, Ange looks even more bewildered with big blue eyes opened wide. Bonnie realizes that Ange is actually pretty under the subpar fashion sense and messy hair.

 

"Date him?" There's genuine confusion in Ange's voice. Either she's a very good actor, or she actually means it.

 

Unfortunately, this is high school. Gossip is more important than the truth. The girls are already huddling to whisper to each other. All except Bonnie, who is still watching her with that ponderous and calculating look.

 

She pulls out the other piece of information Ange had divulged. "You went to the art festival last year? That really doesn't seem like your scene."

 

Tara overhears, and throws a teasing look at Ange. "To see Josh's exhibit, remember?" She says as she rests her head against Bonnie's arm. The act of casual intimacy between the two girls reminds Ange that the only person she can do that with is Kim.

 

Ange ignores the lonely pit in her stomach to reply.

 

"Well, yeah." She agrees. "I went to see all the exhibits. Not everyone had a good showing... but I thought his paintings in particular were evocative, so I enjoyed them."

 

Tara smirks gently. "You really do like him."

 

"Uh," Ange hesitates as she formulates her response. That's enough for Tara to come to her own conclusions, and she turns back to join the other girls. Gossiping about her, no doubt.

 

What a wonderful feeling. Ange continues to empty air anyway. "I like his artwork. I don't know if that translates..." She sighs. Never mind. Being ignored just made her chest hurt more.

 

She's mercifully spared from wallowing in it when Mr. Barkin stomps in.

 

"Alright class." He hollers. The conversations die. "Let's get straight to it. I want you working on those projects. There had better be progress by the end of class." He sits down at Mrs. Tomic's desk and glares at the classroom. Ange thinks it makes him look like a gargoyle.

 

Bonnie slips off Ange's desk and into the empty chair beside her in one smooth motion. 

 

With the tabletop free, Ange opens a drawer underneath the desk and starts pulling out beakers of different shapes. Bonnie is content to let her set them up. She's more focused on Ange.

 

"What didn't you like?" Bonnie says as Ange hangs a beaker over an unlit bunsen burner. Ange's hands hesitate. She makes sure everything is secure before turning her attention towards Bonnie, thinking.

 

"You mean about the festival?" 

 

Bonnie nods. Ange wonders if Bonnie is checking to see if she has taste.

 

"Well, don't tell him... I've always thought Murphy's interactive art piece was uninspired." Ange says as she reaches into her desk again. She pulls out two safety goggles and hands one to Bonnie. "I admire the effort, but he could have done something more than hang a few lights up and blow bubbles all day." 

 

She snaps hers into place. "But on the other hand, it was certainly pretty. If that's all you want in a piece then I guess he accomplished it." Ange watches Bonnie until she puts her safety glasses on before she starts filling the beakers with chemicals.

 

"I thought it was dumb too." Bonnie can't believe she's agreeing with Ange, but she says it anyway. "Who wants to stare at a guy in an empty room blowing bubbles? He's not even hot." 

 

Ange feels her lips twitch upward. 

 

"Bonnie," Ange glances at her, side long. "Not everyone is lucky enough to be blessed with a beautiful face." Ange reminds her.

 

Bonnie latches onto that with a devilish smile. “But you think I'm lucky?” She reads between the lines. Bonnie expects Ange to shrink with embarrassment. 

 

Behind scratched goggles, Ange meets her gaze. “Yes.” She confirms. “you're very beautiful.” Bonnie marvels at how Ange could say something so embarrassing so casually. Ange isn't even paying attention anymore. Instead, she's rummaging through her desk for something else when she adds, “And you were beautiful at the exhibit too.” 

 

“What?” Bonnie hates herself a little for the way her voice wavers. 

 

“Your rendition of Giselle.” It was the dance Bonnie had performed during the opening night of the festival. Ange finds what she's looking for with a gleeful “ah-hah.” Before she continues her thought. “It was beautifully done.” She slides something along the desk surface until it stops in front of Bonnie. “I'm kind of a fan.” 

 

A red lighter rests in front of Bonnie. Ange nods at the bunsen burner. “Wanna light it?” 

 

Bonnie's face warms. 

Chapter 6: Chapter 6

“This was an awful idea.” Bonnie snarls. In front of her, smoke fizzles out of a beaker. The flame of the bunsen burner licks the bottom of the glass. This as their sixth unsuccessful attempt and it was starting to look like a good object to throw at her desk mate. “You said making a polymer was simple!”

“I said making some polymers was simple.” Ange defends herself. “We’re creating something entirely new. It's not going to go perfectly the first time.”

“I’d like it if we didn't fail every time. Class is almost over and we haven't made any progress.” Bonnie looks more and more irate, before finally sliding her chair backwards. The more space between her, their failure of an experiment, and Ange, the less likely it would end up in Ange's face. 

“My time is too valuable to waste on this. Speed it up.” Bonnie orders Ange. “Aren't you supposed to be smart?” 

“I'm crazy smart.” Ange huffs. “And we aren't failing.” Ange continues. Bonnie deadpans at her, which just makes Ange puff out her chest. “We are gathering data points!” 

Bonnie throws her face into her open hands, gives the universe a withering sigh. “You are such a nerd, Possible.” 

“Yeah.” Ange lets out a dopey laugh, only because she knows it will make Bonnie cringe beside her. “I’ll tell you what. You write down what just happened and what variable we should change next, and I'll clean up.” 

“Are you telling me what to do, Ange?” Bonnie asks her sweetly. She grins when Ange shifts in discomfort.

“You can clean this up if you want to.” Ange finally offers.

“Augh, give me the notebook.”

Bonnie starts writing. Her letters are neat, beautiful, and actually legible compared to Ange’s chicken scratch. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Ange start the process of breaking down their station. 

When Ange hides a flinch, she puts down her pen. “Stop that.” Bonnie ignores the confused look Ange gives her and slides the notebook back towards Ange. “You write. I'll break it down.”

“...Really?”

Bonnie gives Ange an offended look. “I do know how to work my fair share, Possible.” Her expression softens to something less dangerous. “And you're hurt.” 

Ange's face carefully smooths of all emotion. “What are you talking about-” 

“This morning.” She cuts Ange off. “You saved my skull from introducing itself to a doorway.” 

“It was no big.” Ange says.

Bonnie reaches across the desk to stop Ange from hiding her left hand in her pocket. She pushes Ange's sleeve past her wrist and pulls Ange's hand in front of her face for a better look. There is a pattern of calluses along Ange’s palm that feels rough against Bonnie’s manicured fingertips. She clicks her tongue in disapproval. Didn’t this girl know about moisturizer? 

Bonnie flips her hand over to look at the back. An ugly line of discoloration blends into Ange’s brown skin.

“No big?” Bonnie quips dryly. 

“Nothings broken.” Ange offers. Bonnie's hand looks delicate, but her grip is surprisingly firm. Ange is bigger and stronger than her though. She gingerly extracts herself from the cheerleader’s hold. Her skin feels warm where Bonnie had been touching. Ange absentmindedly rubs at it. “I've already iced it. There's not much else I can do.” 

“You could not use it.” Bonnie points out. Then, before Ange can protest, she starts to put the beakers away. “So start writing, Einstein. This is important data.” 

Ange watches her move for a few moments longer before she picks up a pen and starts scribbling onto the page. 

“And make sure I can read it!” Bonnie snaps. Ange’s lettering becomes a bit more deliberate. 

—

Sweat drips into Ange's eyes. She ignores the stinging pain and keeps pumping her legs. She can feel herself displacing the air in front of her, and every impact her feet have on the ground. Faster, faster, she needs to run faster. 

She blows past the finish line. It takes several loping strides for her to slow down. She turns one hundred and eighty degrees and jogs back to the line.

“How’d I do, coach?” 

Coach was a tall, gruff man of little words. No one Ange had spoken to knew his name. The entire track and field team had been calling him coach long before Ange had entered highschool. He would probably be called coach until he retired. 

He glances at the stopwatch in his hand, then shows it to Ange with an approving nod. She grins in delight.

“I shaved off a second!” She jumps high into the air, whooping. 

From the other side of the field, a few of her teammates watch as they jog around the track. Philip can't help but let out an envious sigh. “What do you think they feed Possibles?” He says with steady breaths. “That makes them so athletic.” 

Elen, a girl with bangs and brown eyes runs up beside him. “I think it's a genetic experiment. Her mom is a doctor, right? Totally unfair.”

Phil laughs. “You know, I think that's Possible.”

Everyone in the group groans. Up front, the captain - Ian - speaks. “That's enough. If I have to hear another pun, I'm turning this car around.” 

“Whatever, Dad.” Elen rolls her eyes. 

They narrow as she watches Ange start running along the track. Sooner than she likes to admit, Ange is on the group's heels. A few more strides and Ange has slipped thoroughly into the group. 

“Hey guys.” Ange greets with a wide smile. She's only slightly winded. Definitely a genetic experiment, Elen concludes. “How many more laps are we doing?” 

“Just one.” Ian replies from the front. “Phil, you can do sprints with Coach now.” Philip groans, but doesn't protest. It wouldn't do any good anyway. As they loop around the track, Philip breaks off to join the coach. 

Ange adjusts her running to take his place. Side by side, Elen watches her with a smirk that takes a few moments for Ange to notice. 

“Hey Ange.” Elen says between puffs of air. She has a chance to embarrass Ange and she's not about to let it go to waste. “I heard you have a crush on Mankey.” 

Ange stumbles, but doesn't fall. “What- oh.” Gossip really travels at the speed of light. “I just like his art. That’s all.” 

Even Ian spares a second to look back at Ange, appraising. 

“...There’s nothing I can say that will convince you I don't have a crush on him, is there?” Ange concludes dryly.

Elen shakes her head as innocently as she can. “He is pretty cute.” She adds. “But like, good luck. You're gonna have to beat half the girls off of him with a stick. If he even chooses you, that is.”

“I just remembered,” Ange starts to speed up her pace. “I promised Kim I’d meet her after practice.” She starts to pass Ian in the front, and grimaces at the shit eating grin he gives her.

“You can't run from this, Angie.” He teases. 

Ange makes a point by running even faster. “Not a crush!” She calls back to the team. The team just stares knowingly into her back as she breaks from the track to sprint towards the gym.

“Maybe they're robots.” Olive, one of the other girls on the team muses. The entire team knows she’s weighing her options before- “...The possibilities are endless.” 

“That’s it.” Ian says. He makes a circular motion with his arm. “Double back everybody. We’re running another mile in the opposite direction.”

 

Chapter 7: Chapter 7

Ange swings the gymnasium doors open. Inside, eight of the prettiest girls in school practice their choreography. Yellow pom-poms sway in the air, eight long legs kick high towards the ceiling, someone does a back flip. Then they move as one beautiful mass of handsprings and twirls to end up in a three tiered pyramid. 

 

She doesn't notice Ron walk up to her. Ange starts when he places a palm on her shoulder.

 

“They hypnotize me too.” Ron pretends to wipe a grateful tear from his eye. “But if you stare too long they’ll start yelling at you.”

 

“I think that's just you, Ron.” Ange does take his advice though, and turns to regard the boy. “Since you're a guy and all.” She points her thumb at herself smugly. “I'm a girl, and Kim is my sister. I get special privileges.” 

 

Ron double takes, then narrows his eyes with envy. “Lucky! Can’t you share some with me?”

 

Ange laughs. She pulls Ron’s hand off her shoulder and starts walking towards the bleachers for a seat. “I'm not going to help you stare at cheerleaders.” Ron sits next to her, pouting. “Even if it is a teenage boy's biggest dream.” 

 

“That's not a teenage boy's biggest dream.” Ron puts a hand on his chest and recites. “His biggest dream is to kiss-”

 

“Okay, TMI.” Ange pushes him from the shoulder. She has to bite her lip to keep in the snicker when he falls over with a crash. 

 

“Like, thank you, Ange.” Bonnie says. Unnoticed by Ange, the pyramid had been disassembled. The girls were talking amongst themselves now, though several of them were watching Ange and Ron with amusement. “Kim gets a stick up her ass whenever someone tries to correct him.”

 

“Language.” Kim and Ange say in unison. 

 

They don't even notice it, Bonnie realizes with bemusement, because Kim immediately continues. “Ron doesn't need correcting.” She defends. She pauses. She lets out a defeated sigh. “Most of the time.” 

 

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, KP.” Ron says as he clambers off the floor. “I am mostly a well behaved young man.” 

 

Bonnie rolls her eyes. She must have decided this stupidity wasn't worth her time, since she wanders back towards the other girls. “Okay ladies, I think practice is officially over. Let's shower and change.”

 

Kim is the only one who hangs back, sitting on Ange's other side. “Club Banana?” Kim asks, resting an arm around Ange. She immediately recoils when she realizes how sweaty Ange is.

 

Ange smirks at her. Ron's eyes widen, pleading. “I wanna go to Bueno Nacho. I haven't eaten since lunch.” 

 

“Ron, you just had a protein bar.” Kim says, eyeing Ange. Ange inches a little closer to Kim.

 

“That doesn't count, KP! That's like, not even a snack.” He doesn't notice Kim scooching away, or Ange shuffling after her. “And I shared half with Rufus.” Hearing his name, Rufus pops his pink head out from Ron's pocket and nods.

 

“Mhm, mhm. Yum.” 

 

“So I'm starving here. Can we please go-”

 

Kim bolts off the bleachers with an explosive kick of her legs, just in time to dodge Ange's wet, sweaty hug. Ange hops to her feet with a laugh of delight and starts a dead sprint straight towards Kim. 

 

“Club Banana just launched their fall collection-” Kim springs up and clear over Ange's head, landing behind her with fluid grace. Ange reacts just as quickly, digging her foot against the wood floor to reverse her momentum. “And the mall has a food co- EEP!” Kim barely dodges Ange's tackle. She puts distance between herself and Ange.

 

Ange recovers with a roll that leaves a sweaty smear on the floor. If only she wasn't so gross right now, Kim could put her in a hold. 

 

“I'm kind of in the mood for some Chinese.” Ange throws her vote in. The mall had a Quickly Panda that served greasy orange chicken and too much rice. Her absolute favorite. 

 

Ron sighs. No Bueno Nacho today.

 

Ange makes another move for Kim, closing the distance as quickly as she can. It's not fast enough to beat Kim’s reflexes. 

 

Kim flips into a series of backsprings to keep Ange off of her tail. On the third landing, she pivots her body to the side and cartwheels out of Ange’s way. Ange, still headed in a straight line, realizes Kim has guided her into a wall.

 

Ange kicks off her back foot, slams her front one against the wall and jumps backwards. She eats up some of her inertia with a flip, then lands with only a small stumble. Ange scans the gymnasium for Kim and finds her at the top of the bleachers, smirking down at her. They both know Ange won't be able to close the distance this time. Game over.

 

“Club Banana it is.” Kim says as she starts down the bleachers in graceful, casual steps. “With a side of Chinese.” 

 

“You guys are so weird.” 

 

Kim and Ange both stop in surprise. Leaning against the doorframe, still in her cheerleader uniform, is Bonnie. She hadn't yet gone to shower. Despite the haughty disdain in her voice, there's hidden admiration. “Teach me how to do that.” 

 

Ange feels a thrill run down her spine. She didn't think she'd be able to impress Bonnie.

 

She straightens out of her crouch. Ange feels her wet shirt stick to her skin and shivers. Yeah, she was really gross. 

 

“Can I use the showers?”

 

---- 

 

The locker room was humid. Six of the cheerleaders were toweling themselves dry in front of their respective lockers. They spare the trio a glance when they walk in. Immediately, Jessica zeroes in on the last and tallest girl.

 

“Hey Ange.” Ange looks at her. “I heard you have a thing for Josh Mankey.” Ange sighs. This again?

 

Kim, the front of the three, trips and has to steady herself against a locker. She whirls around to stare at Ange with wide, incredulous eyes. “You have a crush on Josh Mankey?!” 

 

Well, if no one had heard Jessica, they definitely hear Kim yell out that embarrassing misunderstanding. 

 

Suddenly, eight pairs of eyes are staring her down. Ange suddenly feels like a steak in front of a hungry pack of wolves. She stops short, afraid to continue into the room. “I really don't.” Ange grins nervously. “I just like his art.” Honestly, there was something funny about being surrounded by several girls in various states of nakedness and still feeling like the most vulnerable one there.

 

She would analyze the humor of that later.

 

“It's alright, Ange.” A girl - Hope, Ange remembers, coos. “We aren't judging. Josh is absolutely yummy.” She unwraps her towel from her body to wrap her hair and start dressing.

 

Ange realizes that the ceiling is a very fascinating structure. 

 

“You can say that again.” Jessica chimes in. Ange can hear the smirk in it. “Artists are totally in right now.” 

 

“When aren't they?” Bonnie says to Ange's right. Ange glances at her, sees Bonnie about to remove her top and focuses on the ceiling again. The glimpse of Bonnie’s shoulder blades burn themselves forever into Ange’s mind.

 

Maybe she could get a PHD in ceiling studies. 

 

“Girls-” Kim turns to the others, then back to Ange, unable to make up her mind. “Josh Mankey? Seriously? Why didn't you tell me?”

 

“Seriously,” Ange sighs in defeat. With nothing else to do, she starts peeling her top off of her torso. “I do not have a crush on him. I would have told you if I did.” It might not be enough to convince the other girls, but she knows Kim will believe her.

 

And Kim does. Her nervous energy fades.

 

Hope, Tara, and Jessica all exchange a glance. Tara, the nicest of them, finally speaks up.

 

“Don't worry, Ange.” Her voice is soft and sweet. Lovely to listen to, really. “We won't tell anyone.”

 

“Oh, that's fine.” Ange hops out of her sweatpants. “The whole school probably knows by now anyway. I half expect Josh himself to show up and turn me down in person.” She finishes saying, voice dry enough to make up for the post shower humidity. Bonnie snickers to her right. Ange doesn't look at her. 

 

“Don't be like that, Angie.” Bonnie says. Kim frowns beside Bonnie, sensing the teasing behind it. “He probably doesn't even know you exist.” 

 

“Bonnie!” Kim glares now. Bonnie looks at her, innocent as a flower.

 

“I'm just telling the truth, K. Lay off. Ange isn't exactly Ms. Popular.”

 

Whose fault is that? Ange thinks. But she doesn't want a fist fight to happen between naked girls in the locker room, so she keeps it to herself. 

 

Or maybe she does? Ange swallows that thought down and locks it away. Something else to analyze later. 

 

“It's cool, Kim.” Ange starts heading towards the showers. Hopefully the steam will blind her. Or kill her. “I'm hoping he doesn't know I exist. Then we can all forget this ever happened.” She turns the lever and wills the hot water to wash away the memory of this conversation.

Chapter 8: Chapter 8

 

Kim throws herself up the stairs. Each stride eats up three steps. By the time Ange reaches their room, she's already squished herself into her compression shirt and cargo pants. It's five in the afternoon and Professor Dementor is trying to take over the world.

 

Again. 

 

“Your ride is ten minutes out.” Wade's voice sounds from the Kimmunicator in Kim's hand. “They can get you to Brazil in a few hours.” 

 

“Thanks, Wade.” Kim grins at him. She's already slipping into mission mode, more focused and alert. She paces along the edge of the room, willing her ride to get here faster. Ange gives herself a moment to watch her sister before she turns around and descends back down the stairs. Kim blinks at the empty stairway. 

 

They had had to cut their mall visit short. Kim hopes Ange isn't too annoyed about it. Being pulled away from prior engagements was one of the bigger downsides to being a world saving teenage spy. Unfortunately, the world saving part was just too important. 

 

The house is just starting to rumble from an approaching jet when Ange scrambles back into the attic.

 

“You're still here!” Ange looks relieved. “Here, I made you something.” 

 

She places her fist into Kim's gloved hand and reveals…

 

“A pair of gloves?” Kim's voice raises in confusion. She gives Ange an unsure smile. “My gloves work just fine, Angie.”

 

“These are special gloves. Put them on.”

 

Kim decides against asking more questions. There’s not enough time. The rumbling from the jet is almost above them now. She pulls her own gloves off and slides her hand into Ange's pair. The material is less restrictive. She flexes her fingers. It's nice, but..

 

“Be careful.” Ange murmurs. “There's a laser in there. It won't pierce the gloves, but it's pierced everything else I’ve tested it on.”

 

“A laser?”

 

“You always complain about getting caught in traps.” Ange places her hand around Kim's. One by one, she folds Kim's finger into her palm. 

 

“Well, that's just how it goes.” Kim watches Ange work. She lets out a startled laugh when the laser finally activates, arching back on itself like blue lightning. Only an inch long, it crackles on the tip of Kim’s singularly extended middle finger. 

 

“Don't tell mom.” Ange grins. 

 

The jet shakes the house to its foundation. Out their attic window, a ladder falls into view. Kim slides the window open. 

 

“Come back.” Ange calls out to her sister. But her voice is drowned under the roar of a powerful engine. Kim grips the ladder and throws a thumbs up over her shoulder. She’s gone in seconds.

 

Ange's grin cracks. 

 

“Please come back.” 

 

---

 

Thursday is largely and thankfully uneventful for Ange. There was the sly glance on occasion, no doubt about the Mankey allegations. But one of the pros of being at the bottom of the social ladder was that no one really has her on their radar. Only the people that matter notice her.

 

Chemistry class is rowdy as she slips into the room. Only one more class until school was out. Only one more day until the weekend. The students are buzzing with anticipation.

 

Bonnie is sitting on Ange's desk, a long tanned leg crossed elegantly over the other. She's chatting with her girls. From behind, Ange can only just see the way Bonnie's cheeks bunch upwards. She's smiling.

 

Ange knows she's about to interrupt. She almost feels sorry for it.

 

As she makes her way towards her desk, Bonnie's head moves to the side, replying to something Tara says. Bonnie must catch her out of the corner of her eye, because she turns her torso a little and gives Ange an uninterested glance.

 

“There you are, Possible.” She scoots back a little so Ange can get into her seat. “Let's actually make this polymer today, alright? We've been dealing with these chemicals for so long, if I have to spend another period with them I'll strangle something.” 

 

“Alright.” Ange huffs a laugh. “Only because I feel like that something is going to be me.”

 

Bonnie smirks at her. “You learn quick.”

 

Mr. Barkin walks into the classroom. Bonnie hops off the desk to join Ange at a seat. Ange starts to set up their experiment. She places the first beaker on the table when Bonnie reaches over and grabs her hand. She flips it over, cataloging the bruise on the back. Its grown splotchy and yellow in the process of healing, but it was certainly healing. 

 

Satisfied, she lets Ange go. 

 

The darker complexion of Ange's skin only does so much to mask the way her ears have colored. Thankfully, Bonnie doesn't get the chance to notice. She's leaned over to gossip with Tara.

 

“I heard we're going to camp Wannaweep this year.” From the tone of her voice, Bonnie doesn't sound impressed. “If the name is anything to go by, I definitely have a bad feeling about it.”

 

“It can't be that bad.” Tara says. From the looks of it, her experiment has something to do with plants. Miserable plants, as most of them are withering away. “We're the cheer squad. There's no way Middleton would let us go to a dump.” 

 

That's right. Ange remembers Kim talking about the next cheer competition with the unfortunate name. That was coming up soon.

 

“Do you think they’ll give us our own cabins?” Tara says. Her expression grows alarmed. “Or like, make us sleep in tents?”

 

“I’ll actually go home if we’re assigned tents.” Bonnie sounds offended at the very thought. “All I know is that if I'm forced to bunk with Possible, one of us isn't going to make it out alive.” She remembers who she's sitting besides, and glances warily at Ange. “No offense.”

 

“None taken.” Ange slides a lighter towards Bonnie. “Kim wouldn't kill you. She might break one of your bones, though.” 

 

The lighter is snatched from the table. “Like I'd lose to her.” 

 

“Bonnie, I've seen Kim throw a grown man thirty feet. On a Tuesday.” 

 

Bonnie opens her mouth, then shuts it after a moment of thought. She lights the bunsen burner. “...How grown?” 

 

Ange’s only answer is an exasperated smile.

Chapter 9: Chapter 9

Bonnie leaves the chemistry classroom with a satisfied sway in her steps. She clutches her notebook in one arm against her side. It's full of graphs and tables and all the other raw data that Ange had been adamant they record. It’s not science if it's not recorded. Is what Ange had said. Then it's just hoping something cool happens.

 

“What a dweeb.” Bonnie murmurs to herself. She notices how the corner of her lips tilt upwards, and grimaces. 

 

Sneakers squeak on linoleum. “Bonnie?” 

 

That dweeb jogs to catch up to her, then falls into step beside her. Bonnie looks at her with a scowl. Ange ignores it and smiles back at her.

 

“Do you still want me to come over tonight?” 

 

Something that Bonnie was starting to realize about Ange was that she was incredibly earnest. She's staring at Bonnie with big blue eyes, taking in Bonnie's expressions with laser like focus. It makes Bonnie feel seen.

 

It's uncomfortable.

 

“Why do you need to come over?” Bonnie asks, looking away first. “We succeeded.” She can see the vial of fresh polymer poking out of Ange's breast pocket.

 

Ange was wearing a white button up today, with black slacks and black sneakers. Nothing inspiring, but a far better outfit than the usual sweatpants and oversized t-shirt. She put that on because of what Bonnie had said on Monday, Bonnie realizes.

 

“We still need to write out the report.” Ange says. “If we finish that tonight, I figured we could finish our homework in class tomorrow. Then I can go and tinker in the lab and you can go and do, uh.” Ange looks ponderously at the shorter girl. “Whatever it is that popular girls do on the weekend.” 

 

Bonnie rolls her eyes. This time, she doesn't notice that she's smiling. Ange does, and she opens her mouth to say something when-

 

A thump makes them both pause. 

 

As a pair, they look towards the source of the noise. A gray and cold wall of lockers greets them.

 

“Angelus,” one of the lockers says, pitifully. “Is that you?”

 

“Donavan, oh no!” Ange hurries over. Donavan starts tapping the inside of the door so she knows which locker he's in. She gets to work immediately. A practiced ritual at this point.

 

Ange presses her ear against the cool metal door. Cracking a lock required a delicate touch that had taken a bit of practice to master. Her long and calloused fingers carefully tick at the dial until she hears a soft click. She reverses direction and repeats two more times. 

 

Once it's unlocked, Ange throws the door open. A ruffled mess of a boy falls out onto the floor. 

 

Ange reaches under his arms, picks him up, and places him on his feet. They both work together to wipe the dust from his clothes. Ange takes a moment to straighten out any wrinkles while Donavan fixes his glasses back onto his face. “Thank you, Angelus.” He says gruffly. “I guess the school day is over-”

 

Donavan stops short as he catches sight of something over Ange's shoulder. Ange turns to look.

 

Bonnie leans against the lockers with cool elegance. Her hand is placed delicately on a cocked hip. Her gaze is thoughtful as she appraises the pair. 

 

Appraises Ange, really. Donavan realizes this as he looks between the two girls. Ange is smiling at her. 

 

Bonnie parts her beautiful lips and says, “Meet me at my place at five.” She kicks off of the lockers casually and gracefully. As Bonnie walks down the hall towards the parking lot, she glances over her shoulder. “And text me when you get there!”

 

“Bye, Bonnie.” Ange calls after her warmly. Bonnie doesn't reply.

 

Donavan stares at Ange with a cocked eyebrow until she finally looks at him. Under his intense stare, she gradually flusters. 

 

“W-what? What is it?” She shuffles a foot against the ground nervously. 

 

“Since when did you become friends with Ms. Rockwaller?” 

 

“Oh.” Ange melts into a happy grin. “I'm still working on it.” 

 

---

 

Ange hides her bike behind the same hedge as last time and pulls out her scraped up flip phone. There is an embarrassingly small number of numbers in her contacts. Mom, Dad, Mama, Kim, and Donavan. The tweebs weren't old enough to have phones yet. Ange taps the newest addition to her list - Bonnie.

 

I'm out front. Ange hits send and waits by the front door.

 

The air is cool on her face, the sky full of dramatic clouds, birds chirp in the large trees surrounding the Rockwaller house. Ange admires the moment like a painting. An observer, separated and peaking in. 

 

She thinks about her day. 

 

Kim forgot to eat a lot. This morning, Ange had shoved a breakfast wrap into Kim’s grateful hands as she was halfway out the door. Ange had stuck around a little longer to watch the tweebs assemble a missile out of cutlery and pancake syrup. 

 

She left the moment it looked like it was about to explode. They could handle the clean up.

 

School was the same blend of monotony and knowledge. If she could have, she would have gone to college already. Her mama had insisted she stay in her age range so she could be properly socialized. She had pressed back at it at the time, but Ange had to admit it was an idea that has some merit to it.

 

She'd managed to snag a close friend in Donavan. Ange hears the door open behind her. Maybe she could catch another one.

 

Bonnie steps aside to let Ange in. As they pass through the kitchen to get to her room a woman looks up from the fridge. She has the same skin tone as Bonnie, darker blue eyes, hair that frames her face and neck in waves. There is also a look of disdain that Ange had gotten so used to seeing. Only this time, it's pointed at Bonnie.

 

“Bonnie.” She says, and Bonnie stops walking with a frustrated sigh. “You only bring friends around. When are you going to get a boyfriend.” The woman's face twists in a cruel grin. “If you can find a boy that wants you, I mean?” 

 

“Oh, shove off, Connie.” Bonnie masks the tiredness in her voice with venom. “I bring friends over because I actually have a social life.” She sniffs at Connie. “You should find one.” 

 

“Hm.” Connie dismisses the dig as she looks Ange up and down. “If this is what you call a social life, I'm not missing anything.” 

 

Ange can see the way Bonnie's shoulders tense as she prepares a reply. Before the situation escalates, Ange speaks.

 

“Is this one your mom?” 

 

Two sets of eyes blink at her. Ange smiles as innocently as she can manage. Connie’s face starts to transform into something angry, but Ange is only looking at Bonnie. She can see Bonnie bite the inside of her lower lip to maybe, hopefully, stop a smile. 

 

“Just who do you think you are-”

 

“She’s my other, way older sister.” Bonnie drowns her out and turns into the hallway. “C’mon. This paper isn't going to write itself.” 

 

Ange meets Connie’s glare head on as she follows Bonnie to her room.

 

Chapter 10: Chapter 10

Notes:

I'm especially proud of this one.

Bonnie's room is made up just as neatly as the last time Ange had been allowed in. A perfectly made bed, an organized bookcase, a clean desk. The papers that had been stacked on it on Tuesday were absent. 

 

There were other changes too. Bonnie's closet door was open. More clothes than Ange has ever owned in her entire life hung from hangers. All of them were curated to look well together. There were thousands of potential outfits in there that could be made with only a hundred or so garments. 

 

And the shoes. Heavens, the shoes. 

 

They had their own two tiered rack that spanned the entire bottom part of the closet. Some were high heels, others were sneakers, some sparkled, and some were matte and scuffed from use. All of them looked great.

 

She would be a high maintenance girlfriend, Ange mused. She felt a little sorry for Brick, then thought better of it. 

 

That would be part of the fun.

 

Bonnie had left her window open. A breeze swayed the curtains as it made its way inside. 

 

The room smelled like Bonnie's perfume. It a scent that is gently floral and spicy. Ange wouldn't be able to identify it in a thousand years.

 

Ange spots another change as she makes her way to Bonnie's desk. A second chair had been brought in. As Ange sets her backpack on the table, Bonnie settles into the seat. After Ange has pulled out her notebooks and pen, she's startled to meet turquoise eyes.

 

Bonnie is mulling something over. Ultimately, her curiosity overpowers her pride and she opens her mouth. “Why did you do that?”

 

“...you mean with Connie?” Ange says, seeking clarification. Bonnie nods slowly. “She was being mean.” 

 

Bonnie's mouth parts slightly. It takes her a few seconds to process her reply. “I'm mean.” It's a statement, but it carries more than one question. 

 

Ange answers the first one. “That's not how people who love each other speak to one another.” Something in Bonnie's eyes quivers, then steadies. Bonnie is not ready to show Ange any kind of weakness, Ange concludes. She lets Bonnie gather herself before continuing. “And I don't really care if you're mean to me.” Ange says with a shrug.

 

Bonnie's eyes narrow with thought. It raises an alarm in Ange's mind. “Er, sometimes it's even kind of fun? Depending on how, uh, you go about it. Does that make sense?” Ange adds quickly.

 

To her relief, that actually gets an amused snort out of Bonnie.

 

“Are you some kind of a masochist, Possible?” 

 

“There’s some sadism in there too.” Ange grins toothily at her. It only widens when Bonnie actually laughs, something disbelieving and breathless. “So, like, watch out. I bite.”

 

“You wish.” Bonnie opens up her own notebook, full of all the data gathered earlier in class. “I could take you in my sleep.” 

 

Fighting words. “Only if I let you.” Ange quips back. Ange's eyes catch Bonnie's soft hands against the pages, a portrait framed by white. She shivers. 

 

“Actually, let's not find out. Your nails could take out one of my eyes.” 

 

“Only one?” Bonnie smirks at her. It's likely why she kept them like that. Ange lets herself smile nervously and start to write.

 

The two girls work in tandem for an hour and a half before the evening air gets too cold to leave the window open. Bonnie leaves her seat and closes it with a quiet thud. The sounds from outside are immediately muffled. They're in their own world now.

 

Instead of returning to the desk, Bonnie watches the scenery.

 

It's the beginning of sunset. Pink starts to kiss the horizon. The clouds catch on fire in a vibrant orange. It is so bright that Ange can see it through the glass. 

 

Framed by celestial light, Ange watches Bonnie.

 

Bonnie turns suddenly. She catches Ange mid stare. It takes a split second for Ange to compose her features, but it’s enough. Bonnie’s eyes widen in surprise at what she saw on Ange’s face. 

 

Ange looks back at the page she's writing on and speaks like nothing ever happened. “When we’re done with this project, are we going to go back to what we used to be?” Ange has a smile on her face, but whatever she’s feeling underneath is unreadable. 

 

“Oh.”

 

Bonnie hadn't expected Ange to speak so plainly. Despite herself, a current of guilt flows through her chest. She didn’t want to be reminded of what her and Ange used to be. Finally, Bonnie lets herself admit that she found Ange… tolerable.

 

“No.” Bonnie makes her way back to her desk. She primly tucks her miniskirt under her legs as she sits. “I'll try to be meaner to you in the right ways this time.”

 

Ange throws her head back and laughs. 

 

---

 

“Oh my God, finally.” Bonnie stretches her arms over her head until she feels the satisfying crack of her spine popping. In front of the pair is a project summary that would make Mr. Barkin fall to his knees and weep with joy. 

 

It had better, considering how much work Bonnie had insisted they put into it. She was definitely getting an A Plus on this.

 

“You can say that again.” Ange lets herself fall forward in an exasperated heap. Though Bonnie didn't have her technical knowledge of science, her standards for writing were high and strict. Ange wasn't complaining. It was satisfying to work hard, even if it left her tired at the end of it. “I never want to pick up a pencil again.”

 

“Stop being a baby. It wasn't that bad.” Bonnie rolls her eyes even though she knows Ange can't see her. 

 

Ange tilts her head to the side just enough to be able to regard Bonnie. Ange's blue eyes peak out from behind her ruffled copper-brown bangs. She sticks out her tongue. “Don't wanna.” 

 

This time Ange does see Bonnie roll her eyes. 

 

 “Alright, baby.” Bonnie leans over to nudge Ange's side with her elbow. The movement causes Bonnie's bare leg to rest flush against Ange's. It's warm  - hot, burning - through the fabric of Ange's pants. The feeling makes her stomach do a disorientating flip. 

 

Oh.

 

Everything clicks into place.

 

“Go home and bother someone else.” Bonnie continues, not realizing Ange's entire world has flipped on its head. She doesn't notice the way Ange's hands tremble, or the quiet shaky breath that she takes. There's definitely something strange about Ange's smile. She doesn't get enough time to find out what that is before Ange stands up.

 

“I'll see you tomorrow, Bonnie.” Ange murmurs as she gathers her backpack. The sudden shift in tone makes Bonnie raise an eyebrow.  It makes Ange pause. She needs to cover this or else Bonnie might know.

 

“I gotta go get my bottle or I'll get cranky.” Ange jokes. 

 

Bonnie lets out a withering sigh. If her mouth twitches upwards ever so slightly, she'd never admit it. 

 

“See you tomorrow, Possible.” She looks outside at the night. The sky is black and inky. “Are you able to get home alright?” 

 

“Easy peasy.” Ange is already shrugging her backpack on. “Uh, lemon squeezy.” 

 

“... you are such a loser.” 

 

Ange giggles. 

 

---

 

Her ride home was spent in a daze. She doesn't register the cold, or the darkness. It is purely muscle memory that gets her there in one piece. Every other iota of energy needed to function was spent analyzing every single interaction she'd had in the last few days.

 

Bonnie cornering her in the chemistry classroom on Monday. Spending the evening with her on Tuesday. Wednesday, the locker room - Oh dear God, the locker room. So many beautiful and naked girls. The line of Bonnie’s slender back.

 

Tonight, not even an hour earlier, staring at Bonnie as she was framed by a sunset. Everything is recontextualized, and it feels right.

 

She wheels her bike into the garage. She enters the house and gives her parents an absentminded hello. She walks up the two flights of stairs to get to her room with a glazed stare.

 

Kim is reading a magazine on her bottom bunk. Laying on her stomach, her legs kick the air. At the sound of Ange walking up the steps, Kim looks up and gives her a smile that lights up the room.

 

“Hey, Angie.” She says. “Did you have a good time at Bonnie's?” Kim doesn't expect her to say yes, of course. She couldn't imagine an evening with Bonnie would be pleasant for anyone-

 

“Kim?” 

 

Ange's voice is so small in a way Kim has never heard before.

 

Something protective starts boiling in Kim's chest. Her hackles rise dangerously. What could Bonnie have done to cause Ange to act like this-

 

“I think I like girls.” 

 

…Oh. 

 

Chapter 11: Chapter 11

Kim hops off the bed and lands without a sound. Ange is clutched in her arms only a moment later. Kim's always been the lankier of the two. It was hard to put on weight when half her time was spent traveling across the world and giving villains a bad day.

 

Ange was softer.

 

Kim feels it in the way Ange trembles, knows it when she hides her face against Kim's shoulder. She wraps around Kim’s boney torso with desperate strength. “Hey, it's okay.” Kim coos into her hair. She walks backwards until the back of her knees hit the mattress of her bed. She leans back and lets Ange collapse on top of her. “Liking girls is totally fine.” 

 

It comes out so awkwardly Kim winces. She was used to swinging in on a grappling hook and stopping a disaster with a punch. After all this time, the faces of the people she'd save started blending together. But the look in their eyes when she arrived - gratitude, awe, relief - was the same every time. She solves her problems with actions. It's not like she was bad at conversation, but.. it wasn't as natural.

 

“I'll always support you, Angie.” Kim says and is satisfied when the tension in Ange's frame starts unraveling. “No matter what, we stick together.” 

 

“Thanks, kim…”

 

She feels Ange smile against her shoulder.

 

They lay together for a while longer, Ange nestled against her side and Kim's arm around her. Sharing warmth and comfort. It's silent as they both think through this confession. 

 

When Kim is certain Ange is as comfortable as she can be, she voices her thoughts.

 

“So, like..” Kim sees Ange tilt curious blue eyes her way. “Of all the people to get a crush on, you had to choose Bonnie?”

 

“What-” Ange springs to her knees and shakes her hands back and forth fast enough that they blur. “A crush- who said anything about a crush?!” Ange’s cheeks radiate heat. Her blush is so fierce it starts creeping towards her neck. 

 

“You just came from her place.” Kim points out. She feels a grin form on her face when Ange twitches. Despite how unpleasant she found Bonnie, an opportunity to tease her sister was too good to pass up. 

 

“I-it's not- I mean I did just come back-” Ange’s voice raises two pitches higher than normal. “But it's not a crush! I just think she's ho- pretty!” There’s almost a hysterical quality added in at that slip up. “I think she's pretty! That’s all!” 

 

“Oh my god.” Kim bites her lip, but it doesn't stop the laughter from bubbling past. Ange glares at her. All of the sharpness is tempered by the redness staining her entire face. “Bonnie was your gay awakening.” 

 

Ange picks up Kim’s pillow and smothers her with it.

 

---

 

Friday arrives in glorious sunlight.

 

Ange holds the door to school open for Kim. Kim leaves Ange for her locker with a kiss on the cheek. It was a long standing tradition they'd kept from childhood that Ange hoped would never change. 

 

She grabs her literature textbook and heads over to Donavan’s locker to wait for him. As she loiters against a locker, a group of pretty girls walk past her down the hallway. Ange catches the last snippets of their conversation.

 

“...and when he took his jacket off, I saw his forearms. They were like, covered in veins.”

 

“Do you think he's stronger than Lucas?”

 

“Brick totally is. He even throws better - and he's taller…”

 

Their voices fade into the general buzz that haunted the high school hallways. It was the last day of the week, so everyone was especially excited. Ange was one of them. The upcoming weekend meant forty eight hours of  non-stop experimenting time (and caffeine. An obscene amount of caffeine). Tinkering in the lab was by far her favorite hobby. She might even finish installing the ionic thrusters for her project. 

 

A tiny thrill went through Ange’s spine at that thought, even as she pondered what she'd just heard. This would be her very first full twenty four hours of her girl liking life - And she had just heard something important. 

 

Girls liked strong and tall partners.

 

Ange was decently strong. 

 

Kim was stronger by far. She was full of dense muscle that she'd gotten from hours of fighting or training daily. She didn't, however, look particularly strong. Fit, definitely. Capable too, but also skinny and lanky. It was always funny seeing pictures of Kim on the news, standing next to the latest captured villain twice her size and with muscles bigger than her head. The caption underneath would declare her, Kim Possible, teenage girl, the victor in big bold letters.

 

Villains were supposed to have egos bigger than the planet they tried to conquer. How did they find it in them to try again, knowing they had been humiliated in front of the world.

 

Well, maybe that's exactly why they got back to it.

 

Ange, on the other hand, only spent her time lugging heavy machinery around the lab. It left her with some definition, at least she thought so. She looks down at her forearms and flexes her fist. 

 

No veins. She clicks her tongue.

 

The height on the other hand… Ange had stopped growing at thirteen. An even five feet and four inches, she was the perfect national average. In summary, not tall at all.

 

Donavan arrives as Ange mulls that over in her mind. 

 

She looks lost in thought. He notes. Because he's a gentleman, he lets her stay in the moment while he grabs his textbook. The click of his locker door pulls her out of it. When her eyes catch sight of him, she gives him a familiar, sweet smile. Comfort and safety are a promise in that smile. 

 

“Pleasant morning, Angelus.” He tucks his book into his oversized pack. They start towards the classroom together. “I see you managed to survive the evening at Ms. Rockwallers in one piece.” 

 

“Oh,” Ange adopts an ironic grin. “More than one piece.” She says mysteriously. Donavan quirks an eyebrow at her, but Ange just shakes her head.

 

She is not ready for that conversation yet.

 

Just in case Max decides to trip Donavan again, Ange decides to walk into the classroom first. It was unneeded. Max is too busy listening to his posse of friends. 

 

There in the middle, befitting her title of most popular cheerleader is Bonnie. She's lounging against the side of one of the girls, filing her nails. The girl has an arm casually draped over Bonnie's shoulder even while her attention is focused on the rest of the group.

 

Ange doesn't care about the group. 

 

She must have been watching too long, or at least long enough that Bonnie spots her when she lifts her hand to examine it in the light. Their eyes meet, turquoise and blue. Bonnie doesn't say anything, but she spares Ange a brief smile that has Ange floating all the way to her desk. 

 

Once she sits down, she lets her head fall onto the table. She liked girls so much it was embarrassing.

 

Chapter 12: Chapter 12

Ange stops halfway to the library to stare at a newly showcased painting. It's something large and romantic. A figure standing at the bottom of a mountain, dwarfed by the vast landscape. It's executed with such skill that it looks out of place in the school hallways. 

 

“What do you think it means?” Someone asks Ange from behind her shoulder. 

 

“Well, art is always interpretive, isn't it?” She says, not looking away. “Someone could see a sense of adventure. That figure looks like the could be ready to conquer that mountain. Someone else might view it as the very opposite.” She drinks in as much detail as she can. “That nature is king, and should be handled with respect or else you'll get consumed by it.” 

 

“Cool.” The person walks up to stand to her right. “What do you think?”

 

Ange looks at the small smudge that is the figure. “I think it's melancholy.” She gestures towards it. “That person is the only one there. But they aren't alone, because the landscape itself is their companion. Uh, if that doesn't sound too pretentious.” The person beside her laughs. Ange turns to look at them and comes face to face with Josh Mankey.

 

She double takes. “Don't worry about stuff like that. It's only as pretentious as you make it out to be.” Josh says to her. 

 

“That's a good way of viewing it.” Ange says.

 

Josh is about six inches taller than her. His dyed blonde hair is styled coolly, his nose is crooked in a cute kind of way, and his eyes are a vibrant blue under the fluorescent lights. Ange can understand why half the girls in school want him. He's very handsome.

 

“Art puts in what you get out of it.” Ange continues.

 

That makes Josh grin lazily at her. “You get it.” He nods towards the piece. “Do you like it?” 

 

“It’s lovely. Your style is always so distinct.” 

 

“Ooh, you're flattering me.” It really wasn't flattery. Josh had a way with the brush that she hadn't seen anyone else have. He walks up to the wall and leans against it right next to his painting. It only highlights how confident and laid back he is. Truly worthy of the admiration of the female population. He looks her up and down for a moment before continuing. “You're Ange, right? The science kid?”

 

“Wow.” How interesting. She didn't know she had a reputation other than loser. “You’ve heard about me?” Ange blinks at him, innocent as a flower. “Only pay attention to the good rumors, okay?”

 

It makes him laugh. “Alright, noted. Only the good parts.” Ange can tell he's thinking about something from the way he tilts his chin. “Hey,” Josh says as he comes to his decision. What he says next sends something cold through Ange's veins. 

 

“There's a dance coming up.” 

 

Ange opens her mouth in surprise.

 

“I don't have a date yet.” Josh says. Many details flash through Ange's mind. The rumors that she likes him, her place on the social ladder. Most importantly, how nervous Kim had gotten in the locker room that Wednesday. Before he voices his next thought, Ange interjects.

 

“Have you heard of Kim Possible?” Josh blinks in surprise. “She likes art too.” It wasn't a lie, either. Kim didn't exactly have time to immerse herself in it, but she definitely enjoyed the pieces Ange had shown her…. Ange hopes. 

 

“Kim Possible?” It takes a moment for Josh to recover. To her surprise, he starts laughing again. “I saw her on the news the other day. She saved that ambassador. It was pretty cool.” 

 

Ange nods wisely. “Typical teenage girl stuff, y'know.”

 

“Ha!” Josh looks positively chuffed. “And she doesn't have a date to the dance?” 

 

Another wise and sagely nod.

 

“Alright, that's good to know.” He pushes off the wall. “Do you think I'm even on her radar, though? Since she's so busy doing… typical teenage girl things.” 

 

“You won't know unless you ask.” Ange says, wiser, sager, as learned as she can make it. Josh claps her on the shoulder as he walks off.

 

“It was nice meeting you, Possible.” 

 

Once he's out of view, Ange sets her lunch pack on the ground and throws a fist in the air. 

 

Kim was gonna owe her so much orange chicken for this.

 

---

 

“Deep breath, then take the plunge.” Kim says to herself, trying to gather courage. It doesn't work, but she was going to do it anyway. Josh Mankey is painting a flier for the dance in the gymnasium. Kim was totally going to ask him out.

 

Before she can step through the door, it slams shut. Kim follows the familiar slender hand of her high school rival all the way to her annoying, tanned face. Ange was right though, Kim thinks ruefully. 

 

Bonnie was hot.

 

“You don't mind if I watch, do you?” Bonnie says with her annoying, pretty lips. Kim feels her brows draw downward.

 

“Watch what?”

 

“You, Josh.” Bonnie stops leaning on the door to examine her nails. Obviously, they're perfect, so she smugly stares Kim down with the corners of her eyes. “It's so obvious that you're crushing on him.” 

 

“It is not!.” But Kim crosses her arms. That girl was always bad at lying.

 

“Oh yeah,” Bonnie scoffs. She'd seen the way Kim had acted in the locker room last practice and she wasn't about to let Kim off her hook. “Gonna ask him to the dance?” 

 

Kim narrows her green eyes. “Why?”

 

This back and forth was a familiar practice between them. One that Kim didn't enjoy, but Bonnie did. Really, if Kim wanted to get anywhere after her high school career, she was going to have to grow some teeth. Bonnie's practically doing her a favor, right? There’s no way anyone could fault her for that.

 

Bonnie thinks back to freshman year, to neon yellow hair, and she shivers. After all this time, she still couldn't figure out how Ange had done it. The only upside was that it had been a weekend when Ange had struck, so Bonnie had had time to track her down and demand the solution before anyone at school had seen her.

 

…Did Ange do that on purpose? Bonnie suddenly thinks. As blunt as she was, Ange could be just as tactful. It was a mix that threw Bonnie off her game. It meant that she never knew what Ange was thinking, or what her next steps would be.

 

Bonnie pivots her intentions just slightly. She'd promised Ange she wouldn't be mean to Kim. “I think it's great.” 

 

Kim raises a disbelieving eyebrow. “Do you?”

 

“Yeah.” Bonnie gives her a fake smile. “I mean, I don't see why he'd say yes. He's turned down girls higher on the food chain than you. But I think, it's like, totally brave.” She never said she would be nice either. Bonnie opens the door, once again revealing Josh's handsome form. “Go for it, K.” Bonnie's voice drops into a purr. “I'm rooting for you.”

 

“I will.” Kim declares, hesitates, and ultimately chickens out. “After practice.” That doesn't mean she would give up though. She could do anything and she wasn't about to let a really cute boy break that record-

 

“Hey Bonnie.” Neither girl had noticed Josh get up and make his way to the doorway. They both jump, surprised to be acknowledged so suddenly. 

 

Bonnie recovers quickly. “Oh, hi Josh.” She says, sweet as pie. He was the most wanted boy in school right now. It would be so satisfying to steal him right out from under Kim's nose. A win win in her book. Before she can continue, Josh turns to Kim.

 

“Hey Kim.” He leans against the metal doorframe with his arm and crosses a leg behind the other. Kim quivers. An alarm rings in Bonnie's mind. He's not...

 

“H-hey yourself-” At the very least, Bonnie gets the pleasure of seeing Kim cringe in real time. What a way with words that girl had. “Uhm, what's up?”

 

“Your sister told me you like art.” Josh says, amused by Kim's shyness. It was kind of cute. Two pairs of eyes widen with shock. When did Ange have time to talk to Josh Mankey? How did she get the time to talk to Josh Mankey?

 

“Did she?” Kim squeaks.

 

Josh nods and continues, not realizing the conclusions the two girls were drawing. “Since we have so much in common, I was wondering if you'd like to be my date for the dance next week.” 

 

Kim has to use all of her willpower to stop herself from taking an excited leap. That would be ferociously embarrassing. “Uh-huh.” Kim says - garbles out really. Just in case Josh doesn't understand her, she nods frantically too. He laughs a little at that.

 

“Great. I'll pick you up at seven the night of the dance.” He slides back into the gymnasium. The door clicks shut behind him. Bonnie stares at it with wide, disbelieving eyes.

 

“Oh my god.” Bonnie looks back at Kim in time to see her actually do an excited leap this time. She touches the ceiling and then lands as silent as a cat. “Did that just happen? Am I dreaming?” Kim forgets who she's talking to and turns to Bonnie with tiny hops. “Tell me if I'm dreaming-”

 

Bonnie is glaring at Kim through her annoying, beautiful lashes. Then the fight leaves her in one long-suffering sigh. Now she was going to have to find a guy hotter than Mankey for the dance. There was no one hotter than Mankey right now.

 

“Congrats on the date, Kim.” She says, defeated. A deep well of envy boils in her chest. It makes her heart hurt. “You have a pretty cool sister.” 

 

She starts walking to her next class. “Don't tell her I said that.” 

 

Kim grins at her back. Kim was totally going to tell her Bonnie said that.

Chapter 13: Chapter 13

Notes:

This one is a long one. It kind of took on a mind of its own.

It's actually crazy when Ange walks into the chemistry classroom.

Brick, who was sitting in front because he got partnered with a nerd, was tossing a football to another jock across the room. Thankfully there were no exposed chemicals to knock over. Some of the more avante garde students were huddled in a circle, taking turns singing the newest single the Oh Boyz had dropped this morning. Some of them were even good at it. Ange sees more than one paper airplane flying around the classroom and she sighs.

It was the last class on Friday. What did she expect?

She heads to her desk. As usual, Bonnie is sitting on it. Ange feels a strange bubbling of pride. It was her desk. She shoves that into a chest in her mind and throws away the key. Also as usual, Bonnie is surrounded by those six girls. At this point, Ange had bothered to learn their names. Tara, Chelsea, Sasha, Leah, Madison, and Clover. All girls that belonged to more popular clubs or sports in the school, cheerleading obviously included. All of them were pretty too, in their own unique way. Ange's eyes are drawn back to her desk. 

Bonnie was the prettiest.

“Hi girls.” Ange greets them. She exchanges a smile with Tara. To her surprise, a few of the others smile a greeting too, which she returns. Familiarity bred friendship maybe, Ange muses. She turns her attention to Bonnie and finds herself face to face with a cold and unamused stare.

“How in the world did you get Mankey to ask Kim out to the dance?” 

The girls explode into gossiping whispers behind her. Ange slides past Bonnie and into her seat. 

“We were talking about his newest piece.” Ange says, attention more on settling her backpack somewhere safely. It held their vial of polymer and she wasn't going to let it get destroyed. Not until they could show Mr. Barkin their completed project. “It seemed like he was about to ask me out and I- uh, panicked?” Thankfully she was a quick thinker. 

Ange props her chin in her hand and slyly grins at an annoyed Bonnie. “It sounds like it worked out though. Yippie!” 

Bonnie looks like she's about to say something when Tara speaks up. “Josh was going to ask you out?” Her tone is curious, which Ange appreciates. Some of the girls would have probably been mean about it. “And you said no?”

“I didn't say no.” Ange says to an incredulous Tara. “I redirected him to a more suitable party before he could ask me.” seven pairs of eyes stare at her. Ange giggles. “I really wasn't lying when I said I liked his art, not his… him.” 

And despite herself, Bonnie feels the corner of her mouth twitch.

She hides it by directing a glare at her deskmate. “Well who am I going to go to the dance with now? I was planning on asking Josh myself.” It's accusatory, but it also doesn't have as much venom as it normally would have. 

She's not mad, Ange realizes. She's whining. It was adorable.

“You could find a boy you like and ask him.” Ange offers to her. 

Obviously she did not understand that boys were status symbols to elevate yourself. Bonnie stares at her deadpan, but it molds into something more thoughtful. Maybe she could teach Ange how it's done. If she was going to be seen with Bonnie, she would have to lose the loser status.

It would be a big if, Bonnie adds. They weren't friends yet.

“I'll keep my eyes open.” Bonnie says dryly. She lets Tara lean over her lap to grin at her.

“You should ask Tyler.” Tyler was the captain of the ice hockey team. Not a bad choice, but… “He's such a cutie.” Tara continues. 

Bonnie runs a hand through Tara's blonde curls until Tara sighs, content. Ange is suddenly reminded of a scene in a movie Ron had made her and Kim watch. “It's standard viewing for every American.” He'd said, a hand over his heart like he was swearing an oath. “The Godfather's influence can be felt in everything to this very day.” 

If her status as queen of the school was any indication, Bonnie would definitely make a good mob boss. Tara would make a wonderful kitten. 

“You should ask him.” Bonnie says to Tara sweetly. “I heard that he was thinking about you.” She knew Tara had been crushing on the boy for a while. There was no way Bonnie was going to touch him. Besides, he was missing a front tooth. She was not about to be seen with a boy that didn't have a full, pearly white smile.

Tara's eyes sparkle. 

“Do you really think so?” Tara wiggles. That was also adorable, Ange thinks. Girls are adorable. Bonnie nods at her, eliciting a little squeal of delight that makes Bonnie's eyes ever so slightly warm.

Ange wonders if Bonnie's edges are mostly reserved for Possibles. It would make sense. From the snippets of conversation Ange caught in the halls, Bonnie was genuinely liked by the majority of school. There would have to be some softness to accompany her razor wit. No, Ange muses. Those edges were definitely reserved for losers, too.

Mr. Barkin stomps into the classroom, taking Ange out of her thoughts. Tara heads back to her desk, Bonnie slides into her seat, Ange suppresses a shiver as Bonnie’s bare leg brushes against hers… Again. Those cheerleading outfits were both a blessing and a curse.

What an embarrassing way to realize she was gay. Kim was never going to give her a day of peace again.

While the rest of class starts working on their projects - some frantically finishing up the experiment parts, and others writing down their reports - Bonnie and Ange take out the homework assigned to them for the weekend. They work through each subject methodically. Half way through class, Bonnie's pen halts.

Ange notices the lack of movement out of the corner of her eye. She finishes up her last sentence and turns to look at what Bonnie is working on. A half finished equation - precalculus. Bonnie has resumed her calculation, but the pen strokes aren't as certain. 

There's a moment where Ange wonders if Bonnie's pride will make her bite at Ange… Well, it wasn't an unappealing concept. She places a fingertip three steps in front of Bonnie's pen. “There's a mistake here.” Ange murmurs so the others in class don't hear. So close together, Ange gets to once again admire how different their hands are. Calloused, rough, scraped skin contrasts against soft, carefully manicured beauty. Damn, she was gay. “Do you want me to explain it?” 

Bonnie opens her mouth. For a moment it looks like she's about to scold Ange for her audacity. The harsh furrow of her brows gives it away. Then - “Augh, no. Let me try again first.” 

Ange hums out her approval. 

---

Wet, greasy, delicious noodles slide into Ron's mouth and down his throat. Even as he was swallowing, he twirled his fork around more and shoved another bite into his gullet. Beside him, Rufus pulled out a particularly tasty noodle and slurped it in one long wet noise. Kim pokes at her sesame chicken, Monique refuses to watch, Ange stares in fascinated, disgusted horror. 

“Immf nomf bmfn nnchf” Ron says through a mouth full of Lo Mein. Kim rolls her eyes. 

“Make sure your mouth is empty before you speak, Ron.” She says dryly, trying not to look at him directly. Ron blinks at her over bulging cheeks. Then, he gulps everything in his mouth down his throat. Ange swears she can see it bulge his neck as it slides into his belly. 

She sets down her chopsticks.

Ron eating Mexican was gross. Ron eating Chinese food… It was another animal entirely. “It's not Bueno Nacho.” Ron says, mouth empty - thankfully. He's grinning like a sheepdog. There's a piece of spring onion sticking to his chin. “But Quickly Panda is kinda growing on me.” 

It's Saturday afternoon and the mall is crawling with people. Kim had snuck into the lab and physically dragged Ange upstairs into the world of normal citizenship (as if Kim would know what a normal person did). Ange only stopped struggling when Kim whispered seductions of orange chicken and spring rolls into her ear. A thank you for arranging the Mankey sitch.

Ange needed to get some mechanical components anyway.

How innocently she’d started her meal. When Monique just finished her shift at Club Banana, Kim invited her over. When Ron had messaged her on the kimmunicator, Kim happily told him where they were. Ange didn't think twice about welcoming them into the fold, and he’d joined shortly after. 

She was beginning to regret her life decisions. 

No amount of orange chicken was worth… the horror she'd just witnessed. She shoots Kim an inquiring stare. How do you eat next to this? Ange's eyes say. Kim sighs with exasperation.

I just ignore it. Kim stares back. 

How?!

Ron looks between the two of them nervously. “Monique, they're doing it again.” He slides back in his seat to put a bit more distance between him and the sisters. They shoot him twin glares that make him let out a small eep. “Monique- help me!”

“I think you're on your own for this one.” Monique says. Now that Ron wasn't eating, she found the appetite to finish her Mongolian beef. “Getting between those two is a hard no for me.” 

“Thank you, Monique.” Kim says warmly, even as she stares Ron down. He shrinks into his chair. “Your constant support is noted and appreciated.”

“Anytime, girl.” Monique says with a smile, not regretting her life decisions.

Ron stops sweating when Ange finally looks away. He could handle a Kim glare - he was building immunity to them. Ange was scarier. He didn’t hang out with her as much, and… 

Sometimes when she looked at him, it felt like she was imagining how best to dissect him.

Ange slides her meal towards Rufus, who lets out an excited squeak and a “Thanks!” before literally diving face first into chicken-y glory. It really was a shame Rufus wouldn't let her take a DNA sample. He was a fascinating specimen. 

Through the masses, a flash of familiar brown hair catches her attention.

“Girls, gentleman, Ron.” Ange ignores his soft hey! “As lovely as our time together was, I have a flying machine at home calling my name.” She nods her head towards the direction of Spades, the Hardware Location. “And I need some three hundred and twelve grade stainless steel, size seven over eight knuts.” 

Three pairs of eyes stare at her in confusion. Rufus is too busy eating more than his bodyweight in orange chicken to bother. Ange just smiles and stands up. “I'll see you all later.” She drops a kiss onto Kim's cheek before exiting the food court.

Once Ange is out of earshot, Monique turns to a pleased Kim. “Is your girl always like that?” 

Kim and Ron both nod.

Ange really wasn't lying when she said she was going to Spades. She just didn't tell the trio that she was making a small pitstop first. 

If she told Kim that she was going to go pester Bonnie… Well, Ange didn't want to deal with the teasing right at this moment. It would only fluster her. Her steps are quiet as she approaches the direction she'd seen Bonnie head towards. Ange wasn't nearly as stealthy as Kim yet, but she was starting to get the hang of it. How wonderful to be able to use this skill on one of her friends - she really hoped they were friends.

Bonnie is surrounded by a few of the girls on the cheerleading team. Ange picks a group of teenagers heading in their direction and trails instep behind them. The best way to hide was in plain sight, her Shifu had told her. As they pass the cheerleaders, Ange slows to a stop. She was finally within earshot.

“...I just think it's so amazing how Kim is able to keep her figure.” Bonnie says, tone saccharine. It wasn't mean, technically. The technically was doing a lot of heavy lifting. “She eats so much. Like, does saving the world really burn that many calories or does she keep slim some other way-” 

A hand drapes over one of Bonnie's shoulders. The movement is so natural Bonnie assumes it’s another cheerleader coming to join the circle. She feels an arm wrapped around her back, and she sees her fellow cheerleaders’ eyes widen.

Maybe not.

“Hi girls,” A voice sounds cheerfully beside Bonnie’s opposite ear. One that she's become familiar with over the past week. She stiffens under Ange’s arm. “I hope we’re all having a lovely weekend.” 

Bonnie turns towards the voice and is gifted with Ange’s profile - bangs that hang over her eyes, a curved nose, and lips that are naturally plump. Unfortunately, it was beautiful. 

Jessica is nice enough to grunt an agreement, even as the girls collectively take a step back from the pair. Bonnie was so going to kill them later. Ange surveys their actions with a steady gaze “Ange,” Bonnie adopts her haughtiest tone. “Are you stalking me or something? lay off.” Bonnie shifts, preparing to push Ange off of her. Quickly, she stops. That movement was enough for her to realize Ange has greater upper body strength than she does. 

Ange turns her attention towards Bonnie in a deliberate motion. She understands now why her girls didn't want to deal with what was about to happen. Ange's deep blue eyes were openly observing her with gentle warmth.

Danger. 

Underneath the softness of Ange’s eyes is the promise of danger. Bonnie’s mouth opens slightly in surprise, but it's Angelus that speaks.

“You look really beautiful today, Bonnie.” Her tone is soft and pleasant. Warm, even. Bonnie can feel her stomach drop. “Don't ever talk about Kim like that again.” 

Before Bonnie can think better of it, her natural stubbornness rears up a challenge. “Yeah?” For years, Bonnie had trained herself to never show weakness. A skill she was thankful to have in times like these. She doesn't need to find her courage to push back, it was just second nature. Her lips twist snidely. “What are you going to do about it, Possible?” If dyeing her hair was the worst Ange could do, there really was nothing to fear. 

Ange’s eyes crinkle. She tilts her head behind her, towards the large fountain that was the centerpiece of the entire mall. The movement lifts her chin, exposing a long neck. Ange gazes down at her over the bridge of her nose.

“I'll throw you in that fountain.”

Bonnie blinks once. “What?

Ange crouches, hooks an arm around Bonnie's stomach, and lifts her off of the ground in a swift, smooth action. Before Bonnie - or any of her friends - can react, Ange turns around and starts walking towards the fountain. Bonnie's gaze meets Jessica's stunned eyes before she recovers. 

 “Hey-HEY!” Bonnie calls out from over Ange's shoulder. She flails her legs and Ange adjusts her center of gravity to compensate. “Let me go, Possible!”

“Wow, Bonnie,” Ange says. To Bonnie's annoyance, she sounds amused. “How much do you weigh? Two pounds?” It's enough to make Bonnie preen, just for a split second.

“Well, yea-” She remembers the situation she's been forced into. “That doesn't matter, Ange!” Bonnie can feel her face heating up. By now, most of the mall has stopped to stare at the duo. This was not how Bonnie wanted to become the center of attention. “Let. Me. Go!” 

“Take it back.” 

“Possible!” Bonnie digs her nails as hard as she can into Ange's back. It elicits a satisfying shudder through Ange's frame, strong enough Bonnie can feel it underneath her. Good, she hoped it hurt. “You asshole! This is like, assault! I'll call the cops on you.”

“Language.” Still, Ange doesn't stop moving. “I hope your phone will still work after it's wet.” Bonnie freezes when she sees one of the planters that surrounds the fountain pass them by. Behind her, she can hear the rush of water. She needed to make a decision and she needed to do it now. If a part of her didn't know she kind of deserved this - the part of her she did not ever acknowledge - she would have resented Ange more for forcing her hand like this.

Damnit. “Okay! Okay, I take it back!” Bonnie surrenders, flopping into deadweight atop Ange's sturdy shoulder. “I'm sorry I said that about Kim! Now let me go!” 

Finally, thankfully, Bonnie feels Ange stop walking. Warm hands bracket her hips as Ange gently sets her feet on the floor. In a movement that echoes Thursday afternoon, Ange starts fussing over her - brushing out any wrinkles from her clothes. It would have been kind of sweet if Ange wasn't the cause of said wrinkles. Rage explodes behind Bonnie's eyes.

Bonnie grabs Ange's collar in her fists and shoves her closer, face to face. She can feel Ange's startled gasp brush against her cheeks. Bonnie’s promise hisses through her clenched teeth.

“I am going to ruin you.” 

She watches Ange swallow. A feeling of smug gratification warms her chest. 

All the excitement had knocked a few locks of her hair loose. Ange reaches out and gently smooths one down. 

“You really do look beautiful today.” 

Bonnie's grip slackens. Ange slips the rest of her way out of it, watching Bonnie with soft blue eyes. No longer was there danger behind them. But... maybe a bit of caution. Not for her, Bonnie realizes. It didn't make sense for her to treat Bonnie cautiously after Ange had just manhandled her. So what else could it be?

“See you Monday, Rockwaller.” 

And like nothing happened, Ange turns around and walks away.
 

Chapter 14: Chapter 14

Ange tightens the last grade three hundred and twelve, size seven over eight, stainless steel knut with a wrench as long as her arm. It was the only way to ensure the proper tightness to be test flight ready. Her flying machine - she was still figuring out a name for it - just needed a nice paint job and it would finally, finally be done. She steps back and drinks in all its glory.

 

It's a smooth trapezoidal platform. Protruding from the top is a control panel that's covered in buttons and dials. Ange intended this to be a floating laboratory of sorts so she wouldn't have to worry about the tweebs getting into her more delicate experiments... Or finding her more secret builds. Unseen to the eye were storage compartments that lined the entire hull. At the bottom were the eight ionic thrusters that she'd been working so long on. Overkill, but redundancy reduced the chance of failure. 

 

She lets out a satisfied sigh.

 

“...” 

 

Now what? 

 

She promised Kim she'd wait for her before taking it out for a spin. Kim was off on a mission in Portugal right now. It would be several hours before Ange saw her again.

 

Maybe she should get something to eat. The last thing she remembered having was a few bites of orange chicken yesterday. Ange starts heading for the stairs. The mental image of Ron looking at her, noodles hanging out of his overstuffed mouth pops into her head. She stops in her tracks.

 

No, she wasn't hungry anymore.

 

The laboratory was the size of a medium hanger, split into five sections. Ange, the tweebs, James, and Ann all had access to a separate corner. In the middle was an encased fourteen by fourteen box. It was Kim's training room that Ange and the tweebs had collaborated on. The more practice her sister got, the safer she would be.

 

Ange turns away from it. A part of her hated that thing, even if it was theoretically badical. 

 

As she does, her gaze crosses over her mom's section of the lab. There's neatly organized medical equipment of every kind. Ange can see vials full of pig brains that Ann liked to mess around with. She couldn't fault her mom for wanting to stay sharp.

 

Engraved in the wall is a simple bookcase. Her mom had filled it with all of her medical textbooks from college, plus plenty of other medical texts that caught her interest. Ange walks over and picks one out of the wall. She knew some pretty serious first aid - again, a skill she picked up because of Kim's favorite hobby. But maybe she could learn something a bit more… advanced.

 

---

 

It's an hour before school starts and Bonnie is already on campus. Her mornings started at four, when she'd eat a quick breakfast and then escape her house for ballet practice. Every weekday, from four thirty to six thirty, her instructor would drill perfection into her bones. Grace, poise, and drive were the minimum of expectation. Bonnie had only seen her instructor smile once. Two years ago, when Bonnie had spent extra time learning a grand adage sequence specifically so she could display it perfectly on the first try. Otherwise, ballet was literal sweat, tears, and blood. 

 

She fucking loved it.

 

Good things could never last for very long. By seven, she made her way to campus. It was more convenient than going home for thirty minutes and risk seeing her sisters, just to end up on campus anyway. Usually, she'd spend the hour finishing up her homework. Usually, it was math, one of her weakest subjects - to her endless frustration. 

 

This Monday, she had no leftover homework to finish. Having nothing to do was an odd feeling. Bonnie walks the halls aimlessly, the quiet only amplifying her steps. Everything was liminal and empty. She looks up and finds herself at the doors of the most familiar place in school to her, the gymnasium. She steps inside.

 

Bonnie liked her life busy. Sometimes, that meant practicing cheer routines in her backyard. Sometimes, it was something as simple as talking with her girls at the mall.

 

The mall. 

 

After Ange had set her down and walked away, she had turned to see Jessica, that brat, smirking at her. She wasn't the only one, either. At least Tara had had the decency to look nervously amused. “You look a little dry, Bonnie.” Marcella had teased. Behind her, Bonnie could hear the sound of running water. “Maybe you need a bit of moisturizer?” To rub salt in the wound, Hope had patted her on the shoulder. 

 

“Do you think you could convince her to be part of the pyramid base?” she'd said, like Bonnie hadn't just experienced one of the most publicly humiliating events of her life. 

 

Bonnie was going to murder Ange.

 

She passes most of the hour in the gym, stretching out her sore muscles. Maintenance was non-negotiable. The cheerleading meet at Camp Wannaweep was next week. Bonnie refused to get injured and let Kim take the star position. That girl-scout had everything handed to her. Bonnie growls at nothing.

 

No she didn't. She admits to herself. Kim is just that good. That fact was even more frustrating to grapple with. Bonnie spent hours of her day navigating the hierarchy of high school. Always to stay at the top. Kim usually missed half the day to go to some place and waltzed back in as well-liked as ever. What was it about Kim that let her do that? 

 

Why couldn't she be good enough? 

 

The school starts to get louder as more students arrive. Bonnie takes a shuddering breath to compose herself. Her hour is almost up, and she knows exactly what she was going to do with it. Just after she exits the gymnasium door she sets her shoulders and marches. Teenagers part before her like Moses parting the red sea. The expression on her face meant violence. Out of the corner of her eye, she swears she sees Stoppable walking in her general direction, spot her, and do a complete one eighty back down the hall.

 

Ange is annoyingly absent from her locker. There, loitering beside it is that nerdy blonde boy she'd never bothered to get to know. He swallows nervously when he sees her. To her surprise, he still straightens his spine. 

 

“Ms. Rockwaller, is something the matter?”

 

Bonnie blinks, then gapes at him. He was way weirder than she'd assumed. What kind of taste did Ange have? She would have to correct that - if they were friends. And they were not friends. “Where's Ange?” She sneers at him. It only forges steel into the boy's spine. 

 

That was supposed to make him cower. Bonnie frowns.

 

Well, maybe it did. She can see his hand quiver when he adjusts his glasses. “What do you want with her?” He says, voice dropping an octave lower. Bonnie latches onto his weakness like a shark smelling blood.

 

“Oh, I'm sorry.” Bonnie looks down at her nails. She'd chipped one on Ange's back yesterday. It took an hour for her to file her entire hand down to a satisfactory level, lest it look awkward. Of course, she'd then taken another hour to even out her opposite hand. “I didn't realize you were Ange's handler. Do you schedule all of her appointments? Why don't you mark me down right after-” 

 

Bonnie slams a hand into the lockers so hard it makes the boy jump. 

 

“BUZZ OFF!” 

 

“I-I-” He stammers helplessly. Whatever mettle he'd gathered drains away as he takes several steps backwards. Bonnie walks after him, a slow chase of predator and pathetic, awkward prey. She makes sure to show off her incisors along with her smile.

 

“That's what I thought-” Bonnie stops short when a hand presses against a locker, coming between Bonnie and that disappointing excuse of masculinity. She turns her head, coming face to face with blue eyes. Ange quirks an eyebrow at her. 

 

“Good morning, Bonnie.” Not taking her eyes off the cheerleader, Ange addresses the boy. “Good morning, Donavan. You should go to class. I'll meet you there.” 

 

Donavan flees with his tail between his legs.

 

“Ange!” Bonnie hisses. Then she takes a moment to visibly calm herself down. When she opens her eyes again, storm clouds swirl beneath them. She haughtily tilts her chin at the taller girl. “I really wasn't lying when I said I'd ruin you.” Bonnie regards her the way a snake might regard a mouse.

 

A strange smile appears on Ange's face. “You came just to tell me this?”

 

“Oh, no way.” Bonnie scoffs. She leans against the lockers and watches Ange open hers. “I came for an apology. You, like, totally crossed a line.” Ange pulls out her English textbook before regarding Bonnie. “What comes after depends on how good it is.”

 

“You think you didn't cross a line?” The question makes Bonnie clench her teeth. Ange can see the way Bonnie’s neck flexes to compensate. 

 

“Maybe I did.” She finally admits. Some of the tension in Ange's chest uncoils. “But I already took it back. I'm not going to do it twice.” Ange stops to consider her. It wasn't a bad point, technically. The logic was sound, especially for a scientist like her. It's just… Ange wasn't logical when it came to Kim, or any of her people.

 

The locker door shuts with a soft click. “Bonnie?” Ange's tone catches her attention. There was a bit of vulnerability in it. “If we're going to be friends, you can't talk about the people I love like that.” 

 

The sharp part of her, and it was a large part of her, rears up in challenge. She thinks about how Ange has slighted her, neon hair and public humiliation. Ange wasn't close enough to make demands yet. “Friends?” Bonnie gives her a disbelieving smile. “You think we're going to be friends?” 

 

“A-Aren't we?” 

 

Bonnie starts laughing. “Angie,” her tone mocks the girl. “Did you wake up yesterday?” Before her, in real time, Ange's face smooths into unreadable glass. Something in her chest tightens, but she can't stop. “The only reason we even started talking is because of that stupid group project. The only reason we kept talking?” Why can't she stop? Instead, she reaches up and flicks Ange's shoulder. “Because you got me a good grade in chemistry. But let's be real,” She drops her voice, leans up onto her tip toes so she can deliver it into Ange's ear. “Who would want to be seen with a loser like you?” 

 

Stepping back onto her heels, Bonnie meets her cruel gaze against Ange's blue eyes. They give nothing away. Ange just… watches her for a few more moments. Then, just like Saturday, Ange turns around and walks away.

Notes:

This one got angsty, haha.

Chapter 15: Chapter 15

Every day, Ange brought a packed lunch to school. The food the cafeteria served ranged from kind of good to scarily gross. She knew Wade took a sample of the mystery meat once. His warning had been enough to halt her own scientific curiosity. So, a packed lunch. Ange preferred knowing what she put inside of her body, and it let her take her lunches in an isolated corner of the library.

 

If only Donavan had the same lunch period as her. Then she'd have someone to share conversation with.

 

Today, Ange was heading towards the lunchroom. She swept through the busy hallways. It was getting easier to navigate the crowd with every lesson her Shifu taught her. Something, something, the flow of water. Intellectually she didn't understand it, but maybe something in her intuition did. 

 

And she really needed someone to talk to.

 

This morning… Bonnie had made herself clear. Ange could still feel the whisper of her breath against her ear. They weren't friends, and they wouldn't be friends.

 

Once, when her mama was on rare leave from her work, she had come home and told Ange a bit about the Kostrama side of her lineage. We're born with luck in our blood. She'd said to Ange. How well you use it I leave to you. Ange wasn't sure if that luck was good or bad. Dolores hadn't clarified when she'd asked her.

 

It certainly wasn't enough to change Bonnie's mind.

 

She steps through the heavy double doors into the cafeteria and scans the crowd. She sees a mane of familiar red hair. Then, she stops short. There's Monique, there's Ron, there's Kim, and sitting by her side, an arm thrown over her favorite sibling's shoulder is Josh Mankey. Ange lets herself smile. At least one of them was having a good time.

 

Pivoting, Ange turns back into the hallway and filters into the crowd. 

 

She'd eat at the library. 

 

---

 

Bonnie isn't sitting on her desk in chemistry class. She's besides Brick Flagg, just like she used to be. All of the students are back to where they used to be. Up front, by the whiteboard is Mrs. Tomic, about to start a lecture. 

 

Ange sits in her chair and spends the rest of class staring out the window. 

---

 

A harsh bell rings, signaling the end of the school day. Students eagerly squish their way through the classroom door and towards freedom. Ange watches them go, hanging back to avoid the rush. She can see Bonnie at the back of the pack, saying something to Tara. 

 

The feeling in Ange's chest is suddenly suffocating. She shakes her head and starts packing up, carefully putting her papers and textbook back into her bag. Unseen to her, as Bonnie approaches the exit, she turns her gaze to Ange. She’s a figure surrounded by empty desks. 

 

Bonnie’s out the door by the time Ange looks back up, none the wiser. She has cheerleading practice to get to. 

 

Suddenly, Ange realizes she is completely alone. Even Mrs. Tomic had left, most likely for the staff lounge. The silence of the classroom screams at her. Before last week, Ange had been okay with being alone. Only, she realizes that she wasn't okay back then. She was just ignoring it. Now that she'd spent an entire week with more than one person - even Tara had been nice to her - her defenses had eroded. It hurt. Her body hurt.

 

There's the sound of a sniffle. Ange shoves her feelings far, far away. If compartmentalizing was good enough then, it would have to be good enough now.

 

Ange has to get to track and field. 

 

Hiking her pack over her shoulder, Ange purses her lips in thought. If she was going to do what she was planning to do, it wouldn't be ethical of her to stay on the team anymore. Ange starts jogging towards the turf. If she was lucky, she could catch Ian before the others arrived.

 

---

 

Cheer practice was another satisfying part of Bonnie's day. It was a lot like dancing, except instead of jealous rivalries between classmates, she got to spend her time working with a team. As annoying as her girls (and Kim) could be, they were still her girls… And Kim. 

 

Bonnie was the vice head cheerleader. A title she'd had to wrestle from the annoying red head with more effort than she'd like to admit. A title she was still proud of, even if it was only half a title.  So, she didn't mind taking the time to go over choreography twice with Tara, or work Jessica through a double pike backspring that Kim had made look easy.

 

“You need to lift your legs higher.” She barks at Marcella with narrowed eyes. She still hasn't forgiven her for the teasing on Saturday. Bonnie also plainly enjoyed ordering people around, but that was really just a perk of the job. “And straighten them at the top. I need to see some better form if we're going to pass Regionals next week.” 

 

Camp Wannaweep hung over them like a guillotine. It was one of the big steps that would propel them towards Nationals. And at Nationals, the eyes of scouts capable of handing out juicy scholarships would be watching them. Bonnie knew she wasn't the only one pushing for the win. A few of her girls didn't have as impressive grades as they'd liked. They had to win. More than one future depended on it.

 

The double doors to the gym open. Bonnie feels herself bristle. Kim and her had agreed to ramp up their intensity the last few weeks. Bonnie had even gotten Kim to agree to keep Ron away from practice for this week (unfortunately not forever. Baby Steps.) That idiot was just too much of a distraction. 

 

She whirls on him and stops short. 

 

It's not Ron at the door. 

 

“Ian?” She makes eye contact with the captain of the track and field team. Ian wasn't the most popular boy ever. As a team captain, Bonnie still respected him. But he’d never shown up at their indoor gym before. This… wouldn't be good news. “Do you mind waiting?” Her tone is both harsh and fair. “We’re on a roll here.” 

 

“Sorry, Bonnie.” He scratches at the back of his neck. There's lines of sweat beading down his forehead from his practice. “I just need to talk to Kim, is it alright if I borrow her?” 

 

“Me?” A voice speaks out to Bonnie’s right, making her jump. Kim walked without noise. It was super creepy. “Well,” Kim looks at the girls, then Bonnie with confusion. There must be something in Bonnie's eyes, because Kim's narrow with thought. “Sure, Ian.” She finally says, trusting Bonnie enough to fully take over. It would have made Bonnie feel smug if she didn’t feel so anxious. Kim heads towards Ian and out the doors. Just before they close, Bonnie hears kim's stupidly annoying catchphrase. “What's the sitch?” 

Chapter 16: Chapter 16

Notes:

wowie, two chapters in one day.

blood and needles are briefly mentioned in this chapter.

“Did, uh, something happen with Ange this weekend?” 

 

Ian leans against the wall beside the gym door. The worried furrow in his brow only serves to settle unease in Kim's chest. He's the captain of the track and field team. The only reason he'd come to see her is if something was up with Ange. She watches him worry at the inside of his cheek. 

 

Kim raises an eyebrow at him. Her protective instincts were already growling at her. His question only makes them roar. “Why?” Her tone is flat.

 

“Just-” Ian runs a hand through his hair. He kept it cropped short, but it was just starting to get a little scruffy. “She quit the team right before practice. She said she had personal reasons for doing it.” 

 

Kim takes a breath. “She did what?!” Oh yes, something was definitely, majorly wrong here. “For personal reasons?”

 

“Ange didn't elaborate.” To Kim's surprise, guilt weighs down Ian's face. “I just- maybe it was me? I know some of the girls on the team don't really get along with her.” He wasn't particularly close to Ange, but she was pleasant to be around. “I could have done more to mediate between them, I think.” Girls were a bit of a mystery to him. To his great shame, he'd let that stop him from reaching out. 

 

He sighs, lowering his head. “Tell her there's always a place for her on my team, is all.” Ian finishes lamely. He had told her already, but he really wanted to hammer in the point. Track and field was an individual kind of sport. Losing Ange wouldn't greatly impact the team. It still made him feel like he was lacking as a leader. He should have and could have done so much more.

 

“Don't worry about it.” Kim narrows her forest green eyes. Learning that some of the girls on the team didn't like Ange was news to her. Why hadn't Ange told her? Kim thinks back to the expression on Bonnie's face. “I don't think it was you. Let me talk to her first.” 

 

She reaches over and rubs Ian's shoulder, even if it was kind of gross and sweaty. He seems mollified by the comfort. “I'll get to the bottom of this sitch, Kay? I'm sure it's nothing too serious.” 

 

Ian nods. “See you around, Kim.” He still had to make sure his team wasn't slacking on the endurance run he'd sent them on. Kim watches him jog down the hallway. 

 

It takes all of her willpower not to rip down the doors as she pushes her way back into the gymnasium. When she catches sight of Bonnie, she digs really, really deep to not throttle her on the spot. Kim didn't want to act until she knew exactly what was going on. She still couldn't forget that look on Bonnie's face.

 

“Hey girls,” She calls out. It comes out as a cold and dreadful order. Practice was over in five minutes anyway. “Hit the showers.” Her eyes stay trained on Bonnie as she walks towards her. To her immense satisfaction, Bonnie actually shifts uncomfortably. She must look really scary right now. 

 

The girls give Bonnie sympathetic looks as they filter into the locker rooms. Only after the last girl has stepped out and the thunk of the door closing in the gymnasium does Kim speak.

 

“If you had anything to do with this,” Kim murmurs to Bonnie, voice so low and cold it surprises even herself. “Well,” She smiles like a poisoned knife. Bonnie swallows, but it's the only weakness she shows. “You don't want to know what I'll do.” 

 

Kim turns and stalks towards the locker room.

 

“I don't even know what happened.” Bonnie finds her voice. Her face falls into the familiar comfort of disdain. “But seriously, if whatever happened is because of me?” She crosses her arms, meets the glare Kim throws over her shoulder head on. “Then your sister is more pathetic than I thought.” 

 

Bonnie smirks when she sees Kim visibly take a calming breath. 

 

She pretends not to worry.

 

---

 

Kim jumps down the entire flight of stairs, landing fluidly into a graceful crouch. As expected, she spots her target hunched over a workbench, tinkering over.. She wasn't really sure. It almost looks like it could be one of Drakken's contraptions.

 

Something the approximate shape of a microscope, but covered in electrodes and with a sharp point at the end.

 

As soon as she had left practice, Kim had sent Ange a text - where are you? Ange hadn't answered her, which meant either she was in trouble, or more likely, she was in the lab. 

 

She pads over quietly and curiously. Ange lacked the frantic energy the tweebs had when building. She was more like their father, methodically organized. There was some of mama in their too. Ange is very deliberate with her movements. Kim grins to herself as she waits. Ange picks up a delicate looking vial.

 

“Whatcha working on?”

 

“-AAH!” 

 

Ange jumps clear into the air. Biting her cheek to stop her laughter, Kim is kind enough to catch the vial that Ange had thrown in her excitement. She looks it over, and almost drops it herself.

 

It is filled with blood.

 

Ange snatches it from her hand. “Kimberly!” She chastises, but it has no heat to it. More than likely, Ange found it funny too. “We've talked about this.” Quickly, Ange clicks the vial into place at the top of her microscope thing. “You're not allowed to sneak up on me while I'm experimenting!” Every other time was fair game though. 

 

“Sorry.” Kim says, not sounding sorry at all. She eyes the vial, then looks at her sister. Kim takes in every micro expression she can before Ange notices herself being analyzed. Then, Ange closes herself off, becoming nothing but an unreadable smile. “I talked to Ian this afternoon.” Kim starts. She'd seen nervousness on Ange's face. Nervousness and sadness and some flavor of forlorn. Now, she just sees Ange observing her back. Kim hated when Ange did that. 

 

“Oh, right.” Ange reaches over, pressing a button so her machine powers on. “I quit the track and field team today.” 

 

“He told me that, yeah.” Kim leans her hip against the cold stainless steel (grade three hundred and four) countertop. “He said you quit for personal reasons.” Her eyes narrow when Ange doesn't immediately answer. She just watches her vial of blood start spinning around.

 

“Angie?” Ange finally looks at her. Kim only calls her that when it's important - or when she was feeling especially mushy. That was important in its own way, too. “Did… Bonnie say something to you?” 

 

Ange goes still.

 

Bingo. 

 

“I'm so going to kill her!” Kim snarls. She pushes off of the table. Already she's planning on how to break into Bonnie's house. It wouldn't be hard. Ange did it freshman year. “That stuck up, overcompensating, trashy-” 

 

A hand grips her wrist.

 

The only reason Kim doesn't throw her over her shoulder and across the room is because she knows it's Ange. 

 

She whirls on Ange. Green eyes lock onto blue, searching.

 

“You're misunderstanding.” Ange mutters. Kim waits for her to clarify. The silence is only broken by the whirr of the centrifugal machine. “She did say something to me. It's not why I quit the team. They're separate incidents.” 

 

It takes a moment for Kim to decide which one is more important. “What did Bonnie say?” Kim's voice is soft, gentle. She watches Ange's lips tremble. She feels the way Ange's hand shakes on her wrist. 

 

“I was just being stupid.” Ange lets her go, turns back to her work. Kim follows her. “She doesn't want to be my friend, is all.” Her tone is dismissive, but her spine is too rigid, posture too perfect. “No big.” 

 

Strong arms pull Ange into a hug. 

 

“Her loss.” To her relief, Ange wraps her arms around Kim. “You're the best friend anyone could ask for. I would know.” Ange sniffles into Kim's shoulder. Kim considers breaking her no killing rule. 

 

“Thanks, sis.” A whisper that cracks half way through. She was definitely going to break that rule.

 

The centrifuge slows to a stop. Ange gently pushes herself out of the embrace to press a few buttons on the body of the machine. She regards it and Kim regards her. 

 

Then she looks at the vial of blood.

 

“Ange?” Kim frowns at the machine. “If it wasn't Bonnie… Why exactly did you quit the team?”

 

“...I don't wanna say.” 

 

“No secrets, Angie.” 

 

Ange presses her lips together. Kim can see the struggle her sister is going through as she figures out how to word her thoughts. Kim hated that, too. If Ange thought too much, she could think of an explanation for almost anything. 

 

“Okay, I'll tell you.” Ange sighs in defeat. Kim lets out a sigh of relief. “It wouldn't be ethical for me to enter competitive sports.” 

 

“Huh?” Genuine confusion distracts Kim just enough. 

 

Ange shoves her hand under the machine. It reacts instantly, a needle pierces her skin and the vial of blood empties itself into the back of her hand just as quickly. A body slams into her side.

 

For one blissful moment, Ange is weightless. It was vertigo and freedom. And it doesn't last long. She crashes into the ground with a grunt, shoulders digging the hard concrete. Kim pins her hands above her head, straddling her in place. 

 

“ANGE-” Ange winces. Kim's voice has an overtone of panic. She didn't mean to scare her so badly. “WHAT did you just do to yourself?” 

 

“It’s alright!” She clarifies, not bothering to struggle free. There was no way she could break out of one of Kim’s holds unless Kim let her. “I already did all the testing. It's safe.” It would be more accurate to say that it was as safe as she could make it. Ange kept that to herself. There was no need to worry Kim more.

 

“But what did you do?!”

 

Warmth spread through Ange’s body. Despite the situation, it was really touching knowing someone cared about her so much.

 

“I just edited my genome a little bit.” It does nothing to calm the frenzied panic of the girl on top of her. “Uhm, to make myself taller.. and a little stronger? Though If I went too extreme with the strength, the simulations get really messy.”  

 

“You experimented on yourself?!” Kim sounds ever so slightly hysterical. Ange gives her what she hopes is a gentle, reassuring smile. It just makes Kim’s eyes widen, then narrow.

 

“I'm telling mom!” 

 

Shit.

Chapter 17: Chapter 17

Notes:

It felt like AO3 was gonna be down forever. I was chomping at the bit to get this out there.

When Ange had been a younger child, her mama had taken her to her grandfather's ancestral home. At least, it was as much of an ancestral home as it could get, considering how many Kostramas ended up as vagabonds.

 

“We wander until we find a place to put down roots.” Dolores had said to her, voice velveted with accent. “And then our children do the same.” Ange wasn't sure how the urge to travel could be genetic. It, in theory, would help keep their bloodline diverse, so she didn't rule it out inherently. It also explained the restlessness that whispered at the back of her mind. She usually silenced it by building.

 

Mama had taken her to a province in Southern China, to a large elegant compound that housed more uncles and aunties than she could remember the names of. It was the only time Dolores had let her meet her grandfather. A familial obligation fulfilled once and only once. He was a man who did bad things, she had told Ange. 

 

She only remembered how he had bounced her on his knee.

 

Dolores had taught her many things during that time. How to observe, how to delegate, how to lead, and most importantly, how to respect her parents.

 

This is how she found herself sitting on her heels, kneeling in front of her mother and father. Kim is sitting on the couch, watching the show with an unamused frown. Ann is glaring at her, fists resting on either hip as Ange sinks further and further into the carpet of the living room. James hovers behind her, looking nervously between three of the four most important women in his life. In his breast pocket is a phone turned on speaker. 

 

Ann lets the silence hang in the air until she sees Ange shift uncomfortably. “Do you realize how dangerous what you did is?” Her voice makes everyone shiver. Ange refuses to look up from the carpet. Her head bobs a nod. “Angelus,” Ann doesn't yell at her, which is somehow worse. “Explain to me why you did this. Help me understand why you would risk your life like that.”

 

There is an audible swallow. It was going to sound stupid when Ange said it out loud. “So,” Ange squeezes her fingers against each other. “I was, uh.. observing the girls at school, right?” Ann raises an eyebrow. Kim blinks in surprise, putting the pieces together even as Ange continues. “They were talking about… how they preferred partners that were taller than them.” When Ange dares to peak up from underneath her brow and messy bangs, she sees Ann's mouth drop open. She looks back down very quickly. “A-and stronger than them. Uh.. yeah.” She trails off with a pitiful shrug. 

 

There's more silence as everyone processes this new information. Almost all of them. James clears his throat. “Well, Angie, you already exercise plenty. Why do you need to be stronger?” He frowns in thought. “And why do you want to be taller just because some girls say so-”

 

“That's enough, James.” Ann interjects with a fond eye roll. Her attention diverts back to her younger daughter. “Ange, dear,” She lets her tone warm. “I know how important it feels to be liked.” She reaches down and runs her fingers against copper waves. “But you shouldn't have to change yourself to get there.” 

 

Ange blinks up at her. “It certainly helps.”

 

Her mom deflates in front of her. “Dolly.” She calls out, more than a little frustrated. “A little assistance, please?” From James’ chest pocket is a rolling chuckle.

 

“Doing stupid things to impress women is a family tradition.” Even through the electronic crackle of the speaker phone, Dolores’ voice drifts like smoke. “Sunshine?” She addresses Ange with her childhood nickname. 

 

“Yes, mama?”

 

“It would destroy me if you hurt yourself.”

 

Ange visibly flinches.

 

“Are you safe, my love?” Dolores continues. Ange takes a shuddering and composing breath.

 

“Yes, Mama.” Ange says, noticeably guilty. Ann squeezes Ange's head against her side.

 

“Good.” Then, Dolores delivers her verdict like a final blow. “No laboratory time for the next week.” Even Kim winces with sympathy.

 

“WHAT-” Ange almost jumps to her feet. Only discipline and Ann's hand keeps her kneeling. “That's not fair! I’ve got so much to build this week. I'll be so behind schedule.”

 

“It can wait. You will use this time to reflect on your actions.” Though Ange can't see her, she can hear the edge of steel in Dolores’ voice. “Promise me.” 

 

“... Okay, Mama. I promise.” 

 

“Excellent." Dolores sounds pleased. "James, sweetheart, pass the phone to Kim.” Kim visibly perks up. She's on her feet and by James’ side in a second. Dolores was in a similar line of work as her, except Dolores had more experience. As cagey as she was with what exactly it is she did - Bad shit to bad people. I will not elaborate. - it was always nice for Kim to be able to talk to Dolores about her own adventures.

 

Ange stares with her biggest, wettest, puppy dog look as Kim takes Dolores off speaker and disappears up the stairs to their room. The hand resting on her head slides down to clutch her cheek. Light blue eyes meets dark blue. Ann leans down to kiss her forehead. 

 

“Liking girls doesn't mean I'll ever stop loving you.” 

 

Ange throws her arms around her mom's waist and squeezes as tight as a vice.

 

--- 

 

The bags are heavy under Ange's eyes as she makes her way into Middleton High. Last night, she could feel the edits to her genome starting to affect her. She had eaten three plates of her mom’s brainloaf. An ache in her bones kept her awake all night. She couldn't even pass the time in the basement over her machines, so she'd spent it staring at the ceiling.

 

The changes in her strength meant she would have to add twelve more grams of protein to her diet every day. Ange chews on a protein bar as she watches Kim walk down the hall to her locker.

 

She had programmed her DNA to take an entire year to grow six inches - an incredible growth rate that required fifty percent more nutrients than she was currently consuming. 

 

Kim is humming a tune. She has a date with Josh tonight. At least one of them is happy.

 

No one is at her locker, so she grabs her book and waits at Donavan's. Ange rests her head against the cool locker door. Students pass her by in groups. She closes her eyes, not feeling up for people watching today.

 

“Who are you going with?” Ange hears a girl say a few lockers down. She could not turn off her ears, unfortunately.

 

“I don't know… No one has asked me yet.” Another one sighs. They're talking about the dance. “How about you?”

 

“No. I hear Penelope doesn't have a date either.” Last year, Ange had spent all the school dances at the lab. That kind of stuff was more Kim's thing anyway. 

 

“I'll tell you what,” says the girl. “If none of us have dates by Wednesday, let's just all go together.”

 

Now that Ange was barred from the laboratory though…

 

“Deal.”

 

“Are you alright, Angelus?” Donavan's voice is a calming balm. She opens her eyes and smiles at him. Messy hair, thick glasses, pocket protector, and an oversized backpack. Donavan kept things consistent and it was definitely appreciated.

 

“I was just thinking.” She kicks off the wall. 

 

He regards her with a little smile and opens his locker. “What about?”

 

“What I should wear to the dance.” 

 

Donavan's arm pauses mid-movement. He blinks at Ange with an astonished look. “I thought you didn't enjoy those.” He finally says as he places his English literature book in his backpack. 

 

“I've never actually been to one, so I really don't know.” She shrugs. As a pair, they make their way to class. “Thought I'd give it a go this time. For science.” 

 

“For science.” Donavan looks vaguely amused. “Are…” He looks her up and down, “..you going with anyone?”

 

“I wish.” Ange ruefully smiles. “who'd wanna be seen with a loser like me?” That makes Donavan frown. Dryly, he raises an eyebrow at her. He doesn't even need to say anything before Ange starts chuckling. “Besides you! You know what I mean.”

 

“I'm not sure I do.” But he gives her enough grace to drop it. Ange can tell he's thinking about something as they approach the classroom door. Well, she couldn't blame him. Self depreciation wasn't exactly standard for her. 

 

“Angelus?” He calls out to her. Ange looks back at him as she steps into the classroom. He follows behind her, hesitant. “If you're-” 

 

Max Falcon is sitting at his desk, surrounded by his usual group of friends. A few girls Ange can't name, a few jocks like Keon, and surrounded by all of them, is Bonnie. The human eye is capable of processing color and shades of light and dark. What it was by far the best at detecting was movement. It is so superior in this regard that Ange's Shifu had told her, depending on her positioning, that it was better to freeze in place out in the open than to scramble for cover. Ange entering the classroom must have caught Bonnie's attention, because she looks up and their gazes meet.

 

Bonnie stares at her for a few seconds. Then she rolls her eyes and turns away. Ange continues to the desk she shares besides Donavan with only a small misstep.

 

“Sorry, I didn't catch that. Did you want to ask me something?” She says as Donavan sits beside her. He looks around at all the people in the classroom.

 

“It's nothing."

Chapter 18: Chapter 18

Brick Flagg is a mountain of a man. Sturdy, immovable muscle and an arm that must have been blessed by the football gods themselves. He is destined for the big leagues, and most importantly, is definitely going to be the next quarterback for the Middleton maddogs.

 

It is exactly why Bonnie had chosen to sit next to him in the one class they share. His status is rising every day. Having him on her arm would only help her in the long run.

 

He is also dumber than dirt. But she could ignore that.

 

She is dwarfed by him, even sitting. It is a benefit right now. It means she doesn't have to look at Ange, who only sits one desk away from her. This morning, Bonnie had come to school determined not to care about her - because she really doesn't care about Ange. She's succeeded, too.

 

Ignoring her is a breeze. Ange keeps her hair messy, wears clothes that have never even seen a season, and has dirt under her fingernails - a worrying amount of scrapes, too. That isn't Bonnie's problem now, is it? Ange is, in summary, the easiest kind of person to ignore. Bonnie's eyes just float over her like she's part of the landscape. Maybe a lamppost.

 

Or a trash can.

 

So, Bonnie had come to school and pretended Ange didn't exist. When their eyes met in their shared morning English literature class, she was sure to look away first. It saved her from analyzing the bags under Ange's eyes.

 

Bonnie is succeeding in ignoring her now, too. She's too focused on Mrs. Tomic's fascinatingly boring lecture. The information is just flowing into her… and out the other ear. She chews at her lip in frustration. It was numbers, right? They were supposed to be easy. Numbers were logical. Yet, no matter how hard she tries, Bonnie doesn't understand the rules. She only memorizes them. It is absolutely infuriating.

 

Chemistry was sort of like physics, says an unbidden memory. Not even experts really understand it.

 

Her pen creaks under her grip. As she pushes the memory away, another one takes its place.

 

Ange had looked so tired this morning.

 

It doesn't matter. Mrs. Tomic references a chapter in the textbook. Bonnie puts her pen to the page and furiously starts calculating. If Ange gets all twisted because Bonnie isn't going to be her friend, that was her ish. And a pathetic one, at that.

 

At least there wasn't cheerleading practice until tomorrow. Bonnie just knew Kim was going to freak on her about this. 

 

Let her. It isn't Bonnie’s fault Ange is losing sleep over her. 

 

A deep breath resets her. Okay, clearly chemistry is an awful thing to try and focus on right now. Bonnie pulls out a new sheet of paper. She would plan for Regionals at Wannaweep. An activity that was actually fun.

 

Her pen strokes start gliding across the page. Liz, Crystal, Marcella, and Jessica would be best at opening for them. They knew how to work a crowd. She would give the best tumbling moves to Hope and Tara. 

 

As (vice) head cheerleader, it's her job to make sure everyone on the team has the time to shine. That meant the harder stunts and jumping would go to Kim and herself. As much as she hates to admit it, they shared the title for a reason. They are solidly the two best cheerleaders on the team. 

 

She stares down at her paper in satisfaction. Assigning specific moves would be something to work on later.

 

Rustling next to her brings her out of her thoughts. Just like that, class has ended and students are leaving. All the better-

 

Bonnie looks up from her desk just in time to see Ange walk by, rumpled clothes and all. No doubt she's on her way to - Bonnie shudders - matheletes. There's a slump in her shoulders Bonnie hadn't seen the entire week they worked on their polymer. When Ange turns to leave the room, Bonnie glimpses her tired, beautiful profile. 

 

Bonnie looks back down at her paper. Ange isn't her responsibility.

 

Whatever is going on isn't her fault.

 

---

 

It's the end of their matheletes session and Donavan hasn't stopped acting off since this morning. He's good at hiding it. Naturally reserved, a little shy, Donavan always came off as hard to read and more than a little weird to anyone he met.

 

But he isn't supposed to be like that with her.

 

Ange packs up her notes, staring at him thoughtfully. She knows he feels her gaze drilling a hole into his back because he starts fidgeting. He only plays with the strap of his backpack like that when he's nervous. At least some things never change. Donavan waits for her to finish packing up so they can leave together.

 

“Do you think Upperton has a chance?” Ange starts, as they leave the trigonometry classroom that has been lent to them.

 

“Please,” Donavan smirks a little, and Ange lets herself relax. “We will crush them under our cold, uncaring boots.” Saturday morning, an hour after sunrise, would be the first head to head of the season. Ange giggles.

 

“May they beg for mercy.” She says, eliciting an actual evil chuckle from Donavan. This late in the day means that the hallways were empty. Even with a companion, the school felt liminal. Their footsteps echo. Using the corner of her eye, she observes him. He's got that brooding, stormy look on his face that he only gets when he's thinking hard. Ange turns her body to face him fully, leaning in closer.

 

She stays like that as they walk down the hallways until he finally notices her.

 

Donavan looks up to see big blue eyes staring into his very soul. “Wha-” He startles, feet tangling over his own legs. Ange yanks him steady by the handle of his backpack before he can learn what the floor tastes like. “A-Angelus! Don't do that.”

 

Her giggles answer him. “Sorry, you looked so serious.” Ange lets him go and places her hands behind her back in an attempt to look more innocent. “Is something the matter?” 

 

“Oh,” Sometimes, Ange was so observant it was scary. Or maybe he was just obvious. “I…” Donavan wonders how to say this, before deciding on something else. “You've been acting strange lately.” Ange's eyes widen. “Did something happen?”

 

What a nice boy. Ange takes a moment to be thankful he's her friend. “...Ha…” She also wonders what to say first. The simplest thing to explain and she'd go from there. “Well… Bonnie and I aren't really friends anymore.” Ange drops her voice. “If we ever were.” It is pathetic. All this time spent trying to accept what had happened and some part of her still misses Bonnie. Why did Mrs. Tomic decide to partner them together? When Bonnie wasn't so… Bonnie, they'd even gotten along! Why couldn't Ange forget that?

 

“Good.” Donavan's voice almost makes Ange trip this time. She focuses all of her attention on him and is startled to find him glaring at the floor. “She is absolutely awful to you, Angelus.” He's a gentleman, so he opens the large double doors leading outside. “You weren't acting like yourself last week.” Ange raises an eyebrow at him, giving Donavan the benefit of the doubt before she decides to chew his head off. “You couldn't focus!” He clarifies. “I don't know what horrible things Ms. Rockwaller might have said or did, but you were somewhere else, Angelus.”

 

It's hard for her to swallow. Why did Ange still want to defend her?

 

“So, I guess it's nice to have you back again?” Donavan finishes timidly. A nervous smile stretches across his ruddy cheeks. “Even if you still look, uh…. Really tired.” 

 

“It's fine with me, but in general don't comment on a lady’s appearance.” Ange points out dryly. It is a good cover as she tries to wrestle with these overwhelming feelings clawing on the inside of her ribcage. Donavan notes it down. Girls mystified him, even his best friend. He walks her all the way to her bike. Since Ange was forbidden from the lab, she was going to spend more time around the city.  “Hey, Donavan?” She swings a leg over her bike and regards him. 

 

He watches her behind his thick glasses. Ange sighs. She’s a coward. And she is definitely not ready for that conversation. “I'll see you tomorrow.” She finally says. He returns her goodbye and watches Ange pedal away. For some reason, it feels like something more than Ange was leaving with her.

Chapter 19: Chapter 19

“And then he went in for a kiss and I sneezed on him!” 

 

Kim and Ange are sitting on the bottom bunk in their attic room. Ange has a sympathetic hand on Kim's shoulder. Kim is curled up against the wall, staring up at the ceiling like it holds the answers to her ferociously awful date with Josh Mankey. How could she wrestle a shark with her bare hands and win… and fail so spectacularly at dating a boy.

 

“Look at the bright side.” Ange says, trying to be helpful. The glare Kim shoots her suggests maybe it isn't. Ange grins, trying to placate her dangerous sister. She couldn't escape Kim's holds no matter how hard she tried. “He's still your date to the dance, right?” Kim nods, but it's like looking at a kicked puppy going through the motions. Ange coos, giving in to her urge to pull Kim onto her lap. “So, even though you totally embarrassed yourself and will probably remember those moments every time you go to sleep,”

 

Kim is closer now. When she glares, it's eye to eye. Ange suspects Kim is glaring at her like she is one of Kim’s villains because it's actually kind of scary. 

 

“He must really like you!” Ange finishes quickly. To her great relief, Kim softens. More like flops boneless-ly onto Ange with a groan. 

 

“At least there's that.” Kim admits. It was kind of sweet, if she looked past her mind numbing embarrassment. “Thanks, Angie.” Kim props her chin atop Ange's shoulder. She was totally not going to be able to look past her embarrassment for like, ten years. 

 

She feels Ange take an extra long exhale against her. “...” Green eyes narrow. “You can laugh now.” 

 

Ange falls backwards and starts cackling. “A whoopie cushion?!” Kim is able to make out between breaths. “A-and, you covered him in ketchup!” Ange starts hiccuping. Tears form at the corners of her eyes. Her cheeks start hurting. Kim gives her a deadpan stare.

 

“...yeah.” Kim feels her lips twitch. She holds it in until Ange lets out a particularly loud wheeze that dissolves into coughs. “It is pretty funny.” Kim giggles, though it's more at Ange than her own expense. 

 

After a few more minutes, when their sides hurt too much, they finally calm down. 

 

“I know what can take your mind off this.” Ange announces. Kim has her head propped against Ange's stomach now, and she turns it towards her sister inquisitively. It would have to be something big to be able to distract her. “I've never shopped for a dress before.” 

 

Kim physically perks up.

 

“Mind helping me pick something out?”

 

“You're going to the dance Friday!?” Kim squeals. When Ange nods, Kim grips both of her shoulders and starts shaking her. “Oh my god, you hate those! This is spankin! Do you have a date?” Ange is too focused on surviving Kim to reply to Kim. Kim checks the time on her Kimmunicator. “Club Banana closes in an hour and a half. We gotta go now before all the good dresses are gone!”

 

Kim flips off the bed and onto her feet in one graceful motion. Like a general leading men into battle, she starts downstairs. “Let's go, go, go! Hurry up, slowpoke!”

 

Just like that, she's gone. Ange stares at the stairway apprehensively. Did she…. Bite off more than she can chew?

---

Club Banana is a gladiatorial arena. 

 

Teenage girls fill up the square footage, clawing and scraping and biting over every inch of fabric available. Ange swears she sees two girls playing tug of war for a dress. One of them falls to the ground. The other climbs up on a rack, double taps her elbow, and drops on the loser. Ange winces at the agony. Yet it is only one of the many horrors that the walls of Club Banana would be bearing witness to this night.

 

Ange watches all of this from the entrance of the store with wide eyes. Fear cools her blood. Besides her, Kim takes a deep, relaxing breath and smiles.

 

“God, I love this place.”

 

Before Ange even has time to gape at Kim, Kim grabs her hand and marches them right into the fray.

 

---

 

Ange arrives to school a broken woman. 

 

Up until now, Ange had assumed only Kim was capable of such ferocity. But last night… folly, oh the folly. Never again would she come between a girl and her dress. And she definitely was NOT going to be shopping with Kim until it was the next off season. The nightmares Ange had last night had woken her up early. Since she couldn't tinker in the lab until next Monday, Ange had fixed up breakfast for her, Kim, and the tweebs and then she'd walked to school.

 

There is no one in the halls. Except, without Donavan by her side, it feels especially eerie.

 

Thankfully, Ange knows of a wonderfully magical place to escape this environment. She navigates a familiar route until she's in front of familiar doors. Some life returns to her eyes as she pushes through into the library. They drift closed and she inhales, enjoying the pleasantly gentle scent of paper, florals and spice.

 

Blue eyes snap wide open.

 

Sitting at a large desk facing the entrance is Bonnie. She's staring at Ange like she's stupid. For once, Ange feels like she is, too. Her face smooths into composure. 

 

Ange doesn't want to show Bonnie weakness. She knows what Bonnie will do with it.

 

Turning on her heel, Ange presses her hand to the door handle. The door barely clicks open when a voice stops her.

 

“Possible.” Bonnie is excellent at masking her emotions. Her tone of voice is neutrally annoyed. That, or she really doesn't care about Ange at all. It sends a pang through Ange’s chest that Ange hates herself for. She gazes at Bonnie from over her shoulder, waiting for the girl to continue. “Did you seriously quit the track and field team?”

 

That raises an eyebrow on Ange's face. So Bonnie had heard of that. “Do you care?” She says, turning fully towards Bonnie now.

 

Bonnie scoffs. “As if.” She turns a page in her notebook. Likely homework, if the mathematics textbook is any indication. “I know it's, like, a loser sport.  But it's still better than no sport.” Bonnie starts writing in her beautiful handwriting. “I guess I was just surprised that you could fall further down the social ladder.”

 

“I'm full of surprises.” Ange quips back. She's too tired to put any heat into it. “And I did quit the team, if you're really that curious.” 

 

She feels Bonnie's eyes staring at her from under Bonnie's long lashes. “Why?” Bonnie demands from her. Ange purses her lips, thinking of where she wants to take this conversation.

 

“...Some personal reasons.” She was definitely too tired for a confrontation.

 

“They must be pretty serious. You look awful.” Bonnie isn't, apparently.

 

“Thanks, Bonnie." Ange sighs in defeat. "You look stunning as always.” Oops, she hadn't meant to say the last part out loud. “It’s only because I made the mistake of going into Club Banana last night.” At least Ange found a good outfit, though it wasn't what Kim or Ange originally intended.

 

To her credit, Bonnie actually winces in sympathy. “You should buy a dress two weeks out, next time.” 

 

“I'll keep that in mind.” What to make of this. Having an even somewhat civil conversation with Bonnie at seven forty five in the morning wasn't a scenario Ange had seen coming. Not after Monday. Anything is possible for a Possible, she supposes. “If I ever feel like going to another dance.”

 

Bonnie smirks at her. “It really doesn't feel like your scene.”

 

Ange answers her with a snort. “Glad to know I'll be missed.” The sounds of other students starting to fill the hallways filters in from behind Ange. This sitch is too confusing for her to deal with right now. Ange didn't want to think about why they couldn't be friends, but trading barbs was acceptable. She leans against the door until it opens. She misses the way Bonnie's face falls. “Bye, Rockwaller.” 

 

Ange slips out of the library and misses the way Bonnie lets her head fall onto her desk with a thump.

Chapter 20: Chapter 20

Notes:

Holy moly, I've hit chapter 20! I didn't think I'd ever get this far. And I'm only just getting to one of my favorite scenes that I've planned out. That'll come in one or two more chapters, depending on my pacing.

Thank you, to the people who have read my work so far. I really really appreciate it.

sweat drips down Ange's face. She takes deep, controlled breaths and tries not to think about how much her arms and legs hurt. Her shifu circles her as slowly and methodically as a lion might circle an antelope with a broken limb. It's Thursday afternoon and Ange has been holding horse stance for an hour and fourteen minutes. Her shifu steps in front of her, moving with an almost supernatural grace. Eyes as bright as the setting sun at golden hour analyze her.

 

Her shifu reaches over and adjusts one of the teacups balanced on Ange's wrist. The jasmine has long since cooled. Ange hasn't spilled a single drop - much better than her first attempt.

 

“Do you want to learn yet?” Her shifu says. She's a tall, intimidating stick of a woman. Not once had she offered her name to Ange. It wasn't important to her training. So Ange called her Shifu, which she does now.

 

“No, Shifu.” Ange replies, as disciplined as a soldier. Staring straight ahead, she can see the way Shifu's back tenses in frustration.

 

“I don't understand it.” Shifu runs a big hand through her long, straight hair. “Don't you want to protect those close to you?”

 

If there wasn't a wood block on top of Ange's head and a teapot on top of that, she would have nodded. Instead, Ange says, “Yes, Shifu.” Ange hears the woman click her tongue and has to smother a smile.

 

“Then let me teach you more than stealth.” Shifu’s voice crackles with frustration. “Why don't you want to fight?!”

 

A drop of sweat breaches Ange's jawline and slides down her neck. With her best and widest puppy dog eyes, she blinks innocently up at the older woman.

 

“It's really scary.”

 

Her Shifu facepalms.

 

----

 

Bonnie slams the door in Lonnie's stupid ugly face. It's the only way she can stop herself from mauling her stupid, way older sister. From behind the door, she can hear Lonnie’s voice. 

 

“Say whatever you want, Bon-Bon.” This entire situation was stupid. It was a fight over the remote! A stupid, innocuous remote and who got to watch what. But all their fights start over small, unimportant things. “It isn't going to change the fact that you're a fucking accident.” Unbidden, tears spring to her eyes.

 

She doesn't let them fall.

 

Her mom loved all of them more than life itself, but that didn't mean Lonnie was wrong. She wasn't stupid. Bonnie could put the pieces together even if it hadn't been pointed out to her. She was definitely a a huge, miserable accident. Maybe that's why her mom always refused to pick a side 

 

Why couldn't she pick her?

 

Lonnie must get bored, because Bonnie can hear her walk away through the door. She deflates, sliding down the wood until she's a pile on the floor. This Thursday sucked. No, this entire week was just one huge pile of suck. From her idiot sisters to homework she didn't understand, Monday onward was all awful.

 

Stop avoiding it, Bonnibel. Some traitorous part of her reminds. You are the cause of all of your problems.

 

Bonnie swallows thickly. Ange hadn't spoken to her since their chance encounter in the library yesterday morning. Bonnie couldn't even blame Ange. She was the reason Ange avoided her. Bonnie's inability to keep her mouth shut - to not be a massive bitch, really, was the cause of all her problems. 

 

A shuddering, choking breath escapes her. Still, she doesn't let the tears fall.

 

It's not like she couldn't be nice. The reason she was at the top of the ladder is because she could be nice. But every time she was, it was her putting on another skin. Deep down, in a place she couldn't hide from, Bonnie knew she was just a miserable fucking accident.

 

That's not how people who love each other speak to one another. Ange says to her from a m emory . Bonnie shoves her face against her knees to muffle her sobs.

 

Why couldn't anyone pick her?

 

---

 

If last Friday was chaos, this one is pandemonium. Ange can sense it even before she enters the school doors.

 

Music thumps on the speakers, students run down the halls with streamers, glitter, everything that's needed for a shindig of epic proportion. Ange is pretty sure she'd heard Ron describe it like that. Even some of the teachers wandering the halls have adopted the school spirit. Ange sees more than one purple sparkly ornament as she walks to her locker.

 

Donavan is waiting for her already. He presses himself into the lockers, trying his best not to get run over by the groups of excited, roving students. The poor boy drips anxiety. Ange gives him her best smile as she opens her locker door.

 

“P-pleasant morning, Angelus.” He looks away from her quickly to dodge an untied, overfilled balloon. It whizzes by in a loud shriek. Ange watches it shoot down the hall in amusement. Today was going to be insane.

 

“Good morning, Donavan.” She grabs her book and shoves it in her pack. “Happy Friday! Let's hope we make it to the weekend in one piece.” 

 

“Yes, happy friday.” He mutters.

 

Ange turns to lead them to class. Quickly, he reaches out and grasps her wrist before she can make the first step. Ange looks at him curiously. “I was- would it be possible to discuss that?” He says, voice cracking.

 

“Well, of course, Donavan.” Ange leans on the wall. It would give her a chance to finish up her protein bar. She was ravenous. “What's the sitch?” She asks, trying to figure out what that could be while simultaneously fishing her snack from her sweatpants pocket.

 

It takes a moment for the boy to gather his thoughts. “Well,” he adjusts his thick glasses up the bridge of his nose. “I was wondering what times you would be at the dance.” Ange's hands, which had been folding back the wrapper on her bar, freeze in place. Donavan sees this and shakes his hand. “I'm just worried about the meet on Saturday.” He clarifies. “It's very early. You're brilliant, Angelus, but I would still like you to be in top form.”

 

“Ooh.” Angelus grins toothily. “Don't worry. I'll be there from eight to ten at the latest.” She rips off a little piece of her snack. “I definitely plan on kicking mathematical butt tomorrow morning.” Ange pops it into her mouth, chewing happily. Food tastes way better when she's hungry.

 

Donavan smiles at the quip. “Then I have nothing to worry about.” 

 

The pair head to English. Ange spares Bonnie a brief glance, who is draped over one of the girls in a casual embrace. She's braiding Bonnie's hair. And Bonnie... looks perfect, as usual. Ange heads to her desk so she doesn't end up staring. Being distracted by beauty, even on someone who probably hates her, is absolutely infuriating. Surely she was more than her impulses. 

 

She doesn't see Bonnie look back at her.

Chapter 21: Chapter 21

Kim paces the entire length of their room. Her flaming hair is pulled into a cute ponytail, her makeup is impeccably applied, and a purple dress is clinging to her curves. Kim was the very picture of beauty. Even more so in motion. Kim moved through space like a song through time. Years and years of training combined with naturally unnatural reflexes came together as elegant, smooth movements. 

 

“Stop worrying.” Ange says, lounging on Kim's bottom bunk. She's watching her older sister (by five minutes!) wear a line into their carpet. “Or you're going to make me worry.” 

 

“Sorry!” Kim stops in place. Instead, she makes wide nervous gestures with her arms. “It's just- what if he doesn't come. Or a heel snaps. O-or my hair looks ugly. Be honest, do I look ugly?” Ange smiles fondly.

 

If she wasn't looking at Ange with such worry, Ange would start laughing at her. “Kim.” She gets up from the bed and towards her sister. Ange clutches Kim's jaw gently in a hand and tilts Kim's head from side to side. She appraises Kim so carefully because she knows this is the only way Kim will believe her. “You are just about the most beautiful person I've ever seen in my life.” To her delight, Kim's face colors ever so slightly. Ange decides not to tell her that she thinks Bonnie is just as beautiful, but in a different way. It wouldn't go down well. 

 

She likes girls so much it makes her look stupid, Ange correctly concludes.

 

Kim gives Ange a radiant smile. “You think so?” Ange's nod is all the answer she needs. Kim leans up and kisses her cheek. “Thanks, Angie.” Kim says sweetly. On a backstep, she takes a moment to give Ange a once over. “You clean up nicely yourself.” Ange's hair falls around her shoulders in tidy copper waves. The contrast makes her eyes a deeper blue.

 

Ange adjusts her collar with a smirk. “Oh, I know.”

 

“Kimmie-cub.” Their fathers voice calls from down the stairs. Kim and Ange share another look. They both know what it means. Ange fusses over Kim one last time, making sure her hair is perfect and her dress is wrinkle free. 

 

“Knock ‘em dead.” Ange says with the gravity of someone giving away their daughter at the alter. Kim takes a deep breath, nods, and then scampers down stairs.

 

Mankey's voice filters through the floorboards. Ange can hear her mom cooing at Kim. She can hear James stern tone, too. No doubt telling Josh which exact black hole James would send him into if he hurt Kim. From the sound of it, Mankey takes the threat in stride. That guy is just plainly cool. 

 

To let Kim have her moment, Ange waits until she hears Mankey's car drive off before she heads downstairs. She walks into her parents' eager gazes. A flash signals the start of Ann's photo session. James looks at her with pride. 

 

She feels warm.

 

“Are you going to be okay getting there?” Ann asks. She's typing on her phone, likely sending her photos to mama. Ange rocks back and forth in her oxfords. 

 

“Don't worry about it mom. I'm taking the bike.” Ann still looks worried, but she wouldn't be Ann if she wasn't. In Ange's pocket, her phone buzzes. A text from her mama. Nice. is all it says, and it brings out an ear to ear grin.

 

James drops a big hand on her shoulder. “Now Angie, you should know to always bring a condom or two. If you're going to be spending the night with any girls, let us know.” Ange blinks at him. James blinks back. At least James believes in her enough to use the plural form of girl. 

 

“I think you're giving me the talk you're saving for the Tweebs, dad.” James nods thoughtfully. He definitely mixed up the talks.

 

“In that case, as long as you're mindful of STI's, sleep with as many girls as-” James is thankfully silenced by Ann's hand over his mouth. Ange gives her a grateful smile, willing her cheeks to cool down.

 

“What he means to say,” Ann shoots a fond glare at her husband. “Is to not do anything stupid. And to have fun, Angie.”

 

“Don't worry, mom.” Ange hugs both of them. “Tonight's gonna be spankin.”

 

---

For the first time since middle school, Ange steps into the throes of a party. It actually looks like a good one, too. A group of pretty girls scamper in front of her, giggling. Ange lets her eyes follow them. A great party, even. On complete impulse, she decides to see where they're going. She continues to watch the undulating masses on the dance floor from the corner of her eye.

 

Bass shakes the floor. The entire gymnasium is covered in purple and red lights. A disco ball shoots glitter over every single surface - tiny specks of starlight.

 

Not that she would know, but the entire atmosphere seems to be going for a dance club vibe. On the floor are couples getting there, uh, boogie on. Ange makes a mental note to ignore her father's slang. In the middle of the crowd, she spots Kim and Josh dancing with bright smiles. Ange grins.

 

The girls take her to a table full of snacks and a big bowl of punch. Someone had dropped a giant cube of dry ice in it. The mist that coils around the floor underneath it only adds to the atmosphere. 

 

Ange fills up a solo cup and a plate.

 

First, she'd eat. Then, she'd dance. Maybe, she could find a nice girl to talk to. 

 

As Ange makes her way to the outskirts of the crowd, she finds another familiar face. “Hi Ron.” She breaks into a smile as he double takes. 

 

“Ange? Woah, I didn't know you were coming!” Ange is kind enough to offer a snack from her plate. Ron takes her entire set of crackers in one fistful. When Rufus pops his head out of his breast pocket and Ron drops him a treat, Ange decides to forgive him. Ron shoves the rest in his mouth, looking her up and down slowly. Ange lets him, watching over the lip of her cup as she takes her first sip of punch. To her amusement, his face twists in pain. “This is so not fair,” Ron whines through a full mouth. “Why do you look better in a suit than I do?”

 

Her three piece suit is all black. Black button up, black vest, and a black jacket. Ange is like a shade, only broken up by a splash of red from her tie and the handkerchief she'd folded into her front pocket. Not to brag - well, maybe she would brag this once, but she looks positively eye-catching.

 

Her clever gaze catches more than one person glancing her way. Some of them are even girls.

 

“Well, Ron, a good tailor goes a long way.” Ange had spent an entire evening getting the outfit fitted perfectly. Money well spent, in her opinion. “And.. uh, to not wear a suit that was provided by your grandmother.” 

 

Ron slumps in his baby blue, with too many ruffles, suit. “Next dance, please help me.” He begs at her. With his big eyes and adorable freckles, he looks kind of cute. “I can't get any honeys looking like this!”

 

Ange snorts. That was a funny way to call women. But… “If it keeps me out of Club Banana, you got yourself a deal.” Ron gives her a relieved fist bump. 

 

“Boo-yah.” He says, stretching out the syllables. Ange rolls her eyes, continuing her surveying of the room. Monique managed to snag a date. Ange sees her in the arms of a real hunk of a man. Good for her. Kim and Josh are circling each other. Ange can just make out the movement of their lips.

 

She looks away, letting them have their moment

 

“So-” Ron coughs into a fist. “This is, like, totally platonical,” Ange side-eyes him. “But do you wanna dance with me?” She could admire his moxy, at the very least. Then she takes a moment to really look at him.

 

He's about an inch or two taller than her. Warm brown eyes, a nice goofy smile, she knows he's funny too. If she was into men, and he wasn't Kim's best friend, she might have considered it.

 

“I wouldn't want to give the girls the wrong idea.” Ange finally replies. “But maybe I can wingman if I'm not busy later.” Ron looks excited at the thought. Girls understood girls, he thinks, not realizing Ange barely understood them herself.

 

“Wait, does that mean you’re g-”

 

“Donavan?” Ange’s eyes widen at who she sees standing awkwardly on the other side of the room, right by the punch bowl. Without looking away, Ange places her plate in Ron's hands. Ron, surprised but always adaptable, takes it thankfully. “Sorry, Ron. I gotta go. Have a fun dance.” 

 

“Sure thing, boss.” He calls out, not looking up from his new snacks. “Boo-yah, Rufus. We didn't even have to wait in line!” 

 

Ange walks right into the crowd. She falls back onto the teachings of her Shifu and lets her intuition take over. Like sand filtering through a fist, Ange dodges the dancing students and their errant elbows to make her way to the other end of the gym. She's proud to say she only got bumped into once. Donavan is there, scanning the crowd with a solo cup in each hand. Most importantly, he doesn't see her. Ange smirks.

 

She slides around the snack table. Ange was getting better at moving without noise, not that it matters when the music pulses a heavy rabbit beat into the gym. When she finally walks up behind his back, Ange leans in a little. “Hi Donavan!” 

 

“AH!” Donavan jumps. Ange reaches over his shoulders and catches the cups of punch as he scrambles his landing. Donavan whirls towards her, still clutching his chest. “Angelus!” He yells helplessly. “Why!?”

 

A giggle is his only reply. Ange takes a drink from one of the cups, pushing the other into Donavan’s hand. Not knowing what yet to say, he starts draining it. Blue eyes narrow thoughtfully.

 

Why was her boy so nervous? Maybe the new environment. The noise was a little overwhelming.

 

“I didn't know you were coming.” Ange finally says over her empty cup. “You should have told me! We could have come together.” That makes Donavan swallow a little too hard and he starts to cough. 

 

No, not the environment then. Something to do with her.

 

Ange reaches over and pats his back. The gymnasium was getting really warm. All these bodies moving together was generating a lot of heat. Absentmindedly, Ange calculates how much heat could be generated from this many people. Donavan recovers.

 

“About that.” He says, rubbing at a stain he'd accidentally spilled on himself. Donavan was dressed very nicely. A classic suit with a pretty, blue corsage bouquet pinned to his lapel. A corsage that he then fiddles with.

 

Ange goes very still.

 

“I was actually hoping we could go together.” Donavan unpins the flowers. Details she's noticed the last few weeks start to fit into place like puzzle pieces. Details she had brushed off as nothing. With flaming cheeks and shaking hands, he offers it to her. Reverent. “A-as more than friends, I mean.” There's a hopeful little smile on his crooked lips. One that she knows she's about to kill. “Because.. I-I mean, I've been trying to work up the nerve all week. Then I f-figured, why not do it here. Angelus,”

 

A cold wind flows through Ange’s veins. She respects Donavan too much to interrupt him, but she doesn't want to hear what he's about to say. She knows what he's going to say.

 

“I really li-like you.” 

 

Ange swallows. Hard.

 

“...Donavan?” Her voice can barely be heard over the pop dance music. Maybe it's her tone, or maybe it's the forlorn surprise that's expressed on her face, but it's enough. She can see the way Donavan’s expression starts to break. “I… I’m so sorry-”

 

“It's okay!” Donavan yells. 

 

He looks as startled at the volume as Ange does. A few of the students glance at them. He must sense their gazes, because he starts looking around in mild panic. “I get it- you don't.” The panic grows. “You don't need to s-say it.” He pulls his hands back like they've been burned. “I just-” Are those tears in his eyes? Ange can't tell under the glittering light. “I need to go.” Donavan turns around and sprints out of the gymnasium, corsage crushed in one of his fists. 

 

Ange hates herself for not being able to follow him. She looks around and sees eyes on her, and she suddenly understands Donavan's panic.

 

Another lesson her Shifu taught her. Angelus falls into the shadows and disappears from sight.

Chapter 22: Chapter 22

Notes:

Oh my god, it's finally happening. The start of my favorite scene is in this chapter. I have to split it into two parts because it's getting super long.

References to suicide are mentioned in this one - in the later half. If that is triggering, feel free to skip this chapter.

It's a mad dash. A desperate, primal need she can only express by the movement of her legs. By pounding her feet on linoleum, then concrete, then the familiar turf field she used to show up to three times a week. Anything to get away from the pounding music and piercing stares of her peers. Anything to get away from the memory of Donavan's breaking smile. 

 

Because the thing Ange had always, always, always been best at is running away.

 

She pants, each gasp choking up through the thickness in her throat. Was it sweat that ran down her face or were those tears? For once, Ange didn't know.

 

She felt numb, and more than a little dizzy.

 

Finally, she slows down to a walk. Ange had to gather herself. Keeping herself together was important. She was not about to have a breakdown on the night of the school dance. Eventually, Ange stops and rests her hands on her knees. The first step is always to breathe evenly. Feel air in your lungs, feel oxygen run through your blood and into your limbs. Clear your mind and focus only on sensation. 

 

Fall was just starting its full swing. The air nips cold on her skin. The night sky was dark, empty of moon and stars. Only the light pollution of the downtown area miles away had let Ange navigate here. The season's last crickets were singing their death knell. Next summer, their children would hatch from their eggs as orphans.

 

Ange furrows her brow. What else could she hear? She stands back up. Something rhythmic, but it wasn't music. Turning her head towards the noise all she sees is the school bleachers.

 

It takes her a moment, then her face flushes bright red. She turns on her heels and decides to find somewhere else to hide.

 

---

 

Bonnie arrives to the dance hanging off one of Brick's massive arms, fashionably late. He's in a black and white tux, she's in a little red dress, and together they make a beautiful pair. Which, like, was kind of the point. The party is in full swing when they walk through the doors. Decent, she concludes as she assesses the decorations. The song playing was actually kind of nice, too. 

 

When she looks at Brick, he's scanning the crowd with a dopey grin. There really was nothing going on behind that boy's eyes. 

 

“Hey, Bonnie.” He nods towards the punch. “Want anything to drink?” 

 

Bonnie considers this for a second. “Yes.” She withdraws her hand from Brick's arm. “Get me one of those antipasto skewers too.” 

 

“I didn't know they were serving noodles!” Brick jogs off with a laugh. Bonnie just stares blankly at his retreating figure. Absolutely nothing going on behind his eyes.

 

She goes back to what's important and starts picking people out of the crowd. There's Tara, dancing in Tyler's arms. Good, they were cute together. Jessica, Marcella, and Hope are passing the time with their favorite hobby. Bonnie can't see which poor boy they're teasing, but she would let it be. And, augh. Bonnie stops her eyes from rolling. Kim and Josh, dancing on the floor. Her eyes narrow when she notices an important detail. They aren't as close as they could be. She was totally going to drill Kim about that later.

 

Ange is distinctly absent, which is weird. Didn't she mention buying a dress at Club Banana? Not that Bonnie is looking particularly hard, of course. Ange wasn't even on her radar.

 

“Here you go, Bons!” A solo cup is shoved in front of her. Brick looks a little sad. “I couldn't find the pasta, sorry. I got you a banana, though.” Bonnie sighs.

 

“Don't call me that.” She takes her offerings, though. After a long sip from her cup, she finally relaxes. The familiar warmth of alcohol spreads through her body. Murphy isn't the best artist, but he's always reliable when it came to spiking the punch. 

 

“Woah, okay.” Brick chuckles sheepishly. “Then, uh,” he points at the dance floor, “wanna boogie?” 

 

Bonnie feels herself cringe before she can stop it. Did Brick get his slang from his parents or something? Still, she needed to be seen by more people. “Don't you dare step on my feet.” She takes Brick's massive hand and lets him lead her to the dance floor.

 

---

 

The roof of Middleton High was approximately forty feet above ground floor. Climbing onto it is a breeze. Ange muscles up the last ledge and rolls onto her back. The vast black sky watches her back. It makes the world wobble under her. She wonders which one will blink first.

 

How long had Donavan liked her? Ange grimaces. Why hadn't she noticed it? The gravel starts poking into her back at too sharp an angle. With a frustrated sigh, she sits up. The first one to blink is her.

 

“Next time, I'll win,” Ange pouts to the sky.

 

Her answer is a soft breeze.

 

This could have been avoided if she'd just told him about liking girls earlier. Yeah, Ange thinks, bitterly sarcastic. Then, Donavan could have spent who knows how long keeping his feelings to himself. It was better that he told her. Now it was all in the open. Ange hops to her feet with a frustrated growl.

 

What did it mean for their friendship? Her chest starts hurting at that thought, so Ange paces the length of the building. Could they still be friends? Would Donavan be able to look at her and not be reminded of how she ripped his heart apart. Ange sniffles.

 

Tonight was definitely not spankin’.

 

The thought brings a watery smile to Ange's lips. It was that or she would start crying, and she hates crying. Her mama never cries. Or maybe she does. It's not like Ange would know if Dolores did. She doesn’t stick around long enough for Ange to find out. Ange hops onto the ledge of the building and stares out at the city. The city her mama could only visit once or twice a year. Her job took her to far away places. 

 

We wander until we find a place to put down roots, Dolores had told her once. Could that really be true? Then why wasn't she here? Why couldn't Ange be enough for her to stay? 

 

Another sniffle. Even though she feels dizzy, she desperately starts walking along the ledge like a balance beam. Ange didn't fear heights anyway. She knew how to land on her feet.

 

Her blue eyes take the outline of distant buildings. All those lights represented a society brimming with people. How many people in her life stayed? Kim, the tweebs, two of three of her parents. Those didn't count, they had to stay (and even then, one still left). Not Donavan, apparently. Her eyes start to water. It wasn't fair to think about him like that. Not yet.

 

But.. that was it, wasn't it? That was her list. Not even enough people to fill up both hands. A drop falls onto her palm. Ange pretends it's rain, though none was forecast tonight. 

 

Ange turns her head back up to the night sky. This time she wouldn't blink.

 

---

 

The side exit to the gymnasium swings open and Bonnie steps into the empty hallway. She leans on the wall, feeling the thump of music against her back. She clutches a red solo cup against her chest. They had danced for fifteen minutes. Brick had tripped over her feet four times. The only reason Bonnie tolerated it is because she needed to make sure the school saw them together having a good time. Thankfully, Brick was easily distracted. All Bonnie had to do was point him in the direction of his football buddies and he was out of her hair. She was done with all of this now.

 

By god did she need some air. Bonnie takes a sip of her drink, more for the alcohol than the punch, and makes her way to a forgotten stairway.

 

She knew of two places on campus that were private. One was behind the bleachers, just out of the way enough that couples would sneak off and use it for a quickie. It was an unwritten rule to avoid the place otherwise. 

 

The other was completely private because it hadn’t been discovered yet. Or ever, if Bonnie has her way. 

 

Bonnie didn’t like going home. She spent a lot of time on campus avoiding home. Usually, studying. Once, she had gotten restless. Instead of going through exercises in the gym - she had been too tired for exercises - she had gone exploring. That’s how, tucked behind an ignorable maintenance hall she'd stumbled upon this stairway. Her heels click against the steps as she climbs. A familiar doorway greets her. This place is so remote the janitor doesn't even bother locking the door. Finally able to relax, Bonnie lazily pushes it open. 

 

Cool fall air brushes against her face. It brings a smile to her face. Bonnie steps onto the tallest roof of Middleton High with a pleased sigh. 

 

A forest view is to her right, too dark to enjoy right now. She turns to the left, towards the city lights and a skyline she’s seen hundreds of times since she’s discovered this place. Her blood turns to ice.

 

Someone is standing on the ledge.

 

Bonnie reacts without thinking. Her cup drops onto the gravel floor, forgotten. She’s already sprinting towards them. Only luck and a solid month practicing her high heel walk to perfection keep her upright. Desperately, she reaches out with both hands.

 

Maybe the sound of gravel crunching catches their attention, because they turn. In the casted light of the city, their eyes meet, turquoise and blue. 

 

The next second, Bonnie has her arms wrapped around Ange’s waist. Fueled with adrenaline strength she leans back and heaves Ange towards the safety of the roof.

 

Together, they fall backwards.

 

Half way down, Ange plants the ball of her foot against the edge of the ledge and flips their positioning. They both fall in a messy crash against the gravel floor, Bonnie on top of Ange. Bonnie’s eyes open wide in surprise. Her shaking hands plant themselves on Ange’s shoulders and she props herself up to meet equally surprised eyes.

 

A beat of silence, then-

 

“What the fuck are you doing, Possible!?” Bonnie lets her face twist in rage. It hides her fear. “I know your life is shitty, but you aren’t allowed to just waltz off a ledge and kill yourself!” Blue, puffy (has Ange been crying?) eyes stare dazedly at her, which just infuriates Bonnie even more. She grabs Ange by her tie and pulls their faces closer. “Don't you realize what that does to people?!” Her voice cracks. For once, Bonnie can’t find it in herself to care. “You selfish idiot! I thought you were smarter than that-”

 

Warm hands bracket her hips. Somehow, in the face of all of her yelling, Ange’s face has softened. Bonnie’s hands tremble with rage. She takes a breath to continue her onslaught when Ange finally speaks. “I wasn’t jumping, Bonnie. I was just enjoying the view.”

 

The fight in Bonnie stumbles. “W-what?” She drops Ange’s tie. It falls on Ange’s chest, wrinkled and red.

 

Underneath her, Ange puffs out her cheeks. “And- why do you even care, you liar!”

 

Bonnie gapes, reeling from one emotional extreme to the other. “What- Liar?!” True anger heats her voice. She props her knees against the gravel on either side of Ange’s hips so she can sit back properly. “Did you just call me a fucking liar!”

 

It doesn’t quell Ange. Instead, Ange glares up at her. It might have even been a little intimidating, but all of the sharpness was dulled by tears starting to form in Ange’s big blue eyes. “You totally are! You said you’d be mean to me in a fun way!”

 

What? Is all Bonnie can think. Her normally sharp mind goes completely blank, unsure how to process... Whatever was happening.

 

“Then you were mean to me in the mean way!” A big wet tear falls down Ange’s flushed cheeks. “And then! - And then! You said we wouldn’t go back to how it was, but you don’t want to be my friend!” Ange sniffles, glares again, and then hiccups. “Why don’t you want to be my friend?! We got along!” The dam breaks. Ange dissolves into tears underneath her.

 

Glossed lips hang open. It was another first. Bonnie felt completely out of her element.

 

“Why doesn’t anyone want to be my friend?” Ange’s quiet and broken voice calls out from underneath her. Bonnie snaps herself out of it to actually look at the girl. A flushed, tear streaked face. An actually pretty nice suit. Most importantly, dazed and unfocused eyes. Bonnie glances at the solo cup she’d dropped earlier.

 

“...Did you have any of the punch, Possible?”

 

She can feel Ange’s hands on her hips tighten with annoyance. “Yeah! So what!? It’s a free country.”

 

“Oh my god.” Bonnie laughs a little with disbelief. Ange gifts her with a look of betrayal. “Ange, there’s alcohol in that.” To her amusement, she gets to watch Ange’s face morph into something akin to shock. “You’re drunk.”

Chapter 23: Chapter 23

Drunk?

 

She couldn’t be drunk! That would be bad. Her parents were totally going to ground her. A second time! Ange couldn’t live with two weeks of no lab time. This was awful - This was like, so the drama. 

 

“Oh noooooo.” Ange breathes more than she says. There’s a low chuckle above her.

 

Ange has no choice but to think her way out of this.

 

Being drunk does put into context some really important details. Like why the world feels dizzy. Or why she was particularly pensive this evening. Or why the filter between her mind and tongue was failing her.  “Bonnie?” Ange calls up to the girl on her lap. Gosh, Bonnie was so pretty it was distracting. This was probably the first time Ange has seen her wearing a dress. There's a choker tied around her neck that Ange finds particularly fascinating. She resists the urge to untie it using her teeth. Ange sees Bonnie quirk an eyebrow at her and realizes Bonnie is probably waiting for her to continue.

 

“Don’t tell Kim, please? Or my dad.. Or my mom!” 

 

Has she ever seen Bonnie smile like that? Maybe once at Tara, that one time in chemistry. Ange feels her fingertips go warm. That could be because she was still holding Bonnie in place by her hips. “I don’t know.” Bonnie drawls out. Ange squirms. “Asking me to keep secrets from your family is kind of evil, Angie.” A valid point. She would have to think a bit more.

 

Ange comes to a conclusion after a small pause. “Don’t care.” It gets Bonnie to huff out some more laughter. Good, that girl is seriously too serious. 

 

“Alright, Possible.” Slender fingers pick out the red handkerchief from her breast pocket and start wiping at her tears. Ange lets her eyes close to better enjoy the sensation. Was Bonnie being soft because she was inebriated? Ange feels a slight tremor against her cheek. Or was it because Ange had scared her just now? “I’ll keep your secret. Does that make you feel better?”

 

“Mhm.” Ange presses her cheek into Bonnie’s hand, then frowns when Bonnie pulls away. Ange opens her eyes back up in frustration. She’s greeted by the sight of Bonnie folding the cloth back up and tucking it back into her breast pocket. The movement brings a hint of florals and spice. Ange closes them again and lets Bonnie fuss. She’ll say something stupid if she keeps staring at Bonnie. She misses the pensive look Bonnie gives her.

 

“Do you really want to be my friend?” Was there.. Vulnerability in there, or was Ange just imagining it. “I was awful to you, Ange.” That tone was more familiar. Deadpan, because Bonnie is pointing out the obvious. 

 

A snort. Ange tilts her chin up stubbornly and demands, “Then make it up to me!” It’s the wrong thing to say. Immediately, Bonnie tenses above her. Ange feels Bonnie shift her weight to get up. Ange lets one blue eye slide open to assess her and finds a caged frown on perfect lips. 

 

That wont do at all.

 

Ange sits up to wrap her arms around Bonnie’s graceful torso. “I want hugs.” She clarifies. Bonnie freezes in place. It takes a second longer than Ange would like to restart her own brain. Never in a million years would she have thought Bonnie would let her get this close. Not without violence. “Like, a hundred hugs.” To her relief, Bonnie actually starts relaxing. “Maybe more.” 

 

Ange hears a sigh and hopes it’s a fond one. “Is that seriously all it takes?” Ange feels Bonnie rest her chin atop her own head. It elicits a hum of approval.

 

“Promise to be fun mean.” Ange adds. This time Bonnie huffs. That was definitely a fond huff, right? It’s hard to gauge Bonnie’s emotions with her head buried against Bonnie’s perfect shoulder. 

 

“Anything else?” 

 

“You smell nice.” Ange murmurs. This time she freezes. “...Forget I said that.” Bonnie’s torso vibrates in silent laughter.

 

“No.” 

 

Bonnie must be able to feel the way Ange pouts against her skin. She relents, just a little. “I can do the other two if it’s that important to you.”  

 

“But seriously, Possible,” In Ange’s lap, since she’s so hellbent on being clingy, Bonnie adjusts herself to a more comfortable position. Instead of straddling Ange, Bonnie folds her legs beneath her torso and lets Ange’s arms keep her upright. Unfortunately, it brings Ange’s face away from Bonnie’s shoulder. Fortunately, Ange can see her again. “I was a real bitch to you,” Bonnie ignores Ange’s whispered ‘language’ with an eyeroll. “And… I’m sorry about that.”

 

Ange smiles. Comfort and safety are a promise in that smile. “I forgive you.” Ange says like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Bonnie rests her head against Ange’s shoulder and relaxes completely.

 

---

 

Kim is already in her room by the time Ange gets home, sitting on one of the two chairs by their shared desk. There’s a mirror propped up against the window that has Kim’s attention. Ange catches her just in time to see Kim pulling her hair out of her adorable ponytail. Ah well, their mom would probably have some photos mounted on the wall by Sunday. 

 

“Hey Angie,” Kim greets from over her shoulder with a smile. “Welcome back.” Ange crinkles her eyes at Kim the way a cat does to show affection.

 

“Did you have a good time with Josh?” Ange teases, expecting Kim’s cheeks to redden into a blush. Instead, Kim starts laughing. What did she say that was so funny?

 

“I did, actually.” Kim cards a hand through her red hair, straightening out any tangles. “We broke up!” Ange pauses mid step and focuses all of her attention onto her sister. Kim has always been worse at hiding her emotions. Only once Ange is satisfied that there isn’t anything hidden behind Kim’s smile does she tilt her head inquisitively. “Well, we don’t actually have much in common.” Kim continues. “And having a relationship just based off of, uhm, physical attraction isn’t sustainable.”

 

“...Did you go behind the bleachers?” Ange says, once she’s found the courage to ask. Thankfully, Kim just gives her a confused stare. 

 

“No? Why?” 

 

“Don’t worry about it.” She walks over and plants a kiss on Kim’s cheek. “I’m not sure if I should say sorry or congratulate you over Josh.” 

 

To her great amusement, Kim starts giggling at her through the mirror, light as bells. “A congratulations, please and thank you. I think I’m going to be able to be a lot smoother talking to the next person I get a crush on.” The look on Ange’s face makes Kim flick at her cheek. “I will! Seriously.” 

 

“I’ll believe it when I see it.” Is all Ange says at that. Kim sticks her tongue out at Ange.

 

“What about you?” Kim turns in her seat to give Ange her full attention. Her forest green eyes can be just as focused as Ange’s. “Did you like your first ever dance?”

 

Ange sees Kim frown pensively at whatever flashes over her face. This time, though, Ange doesn’t want to hide it. She thinks about Donavan, his confession and how he ran from it. She thinks about how she ran from it too. “It was… kind of awful.” She thinks about Bonnie resting her head against her own shoulder. “I would be willing to do another.” Ange adds, to Kim’s bemusement. 

 

“You’re gonna have to elaborate on that.” Kim says, deadpan. It makes Ange chuckle wryly. Then, Kim suddenly notices another detail. She narrows her eyes at her sister suspiciously. 

 

“Hey, what happened to your coat?”

 

---

 

Bonnie closes the front door of her house with a quiet thud. Looking around, either no one is home or her sisters are asleep. Considering it was only midnight on a Friday, she was likely all alone. Good. She lets her guard drop on her way to her bedroom. In front of the mirror of her vanity, Bonnie wipes away her makeup. Surprisingly, even after all her concealer and primer have been stripped away, her skin still glows. She smiles at herself.

 

It feels real.

 

Before she takes off her dress and put on her pajamas, Bonnie makes sure to carefully hang a black suit jacket that’s one size too big up on her closet door.

 

Notes:

Bonnie and Ange are finally, officially friends! it only took them 23 chapters. There's a reason this is tagged major slowburn. I like my character development.

Chapter 24: Chapter 24

Notes:

Finally I get to write them interacting as friends! I think their dialogue is super cute.

Ange's choice of tea as a favored beverage is a reference to her favorite drink in an ATLA au I have drawn out. Link is below.

https://ieatedanimation.tumblr.com/tagged/atla

The matheletes meet against Upperton high is in a windowless room of the Middleton convention center at seven in the morning on the dot. Ange and Donavan wipe the floor with them. Each round brings a victory that drains a little of the light from their opponents. Ange can’t even bring herself to enjoy it. Donavan doesn’t look at her the entire time. When the pair exit as champions, Donavan slips down the hallway without a word. Ange freezes in place, unsure if she should go after him or give him space. 

 

By the time she comes to a conclusion, he’s gone.

 

She really was a coward.

 

Ange shoves her hands into her sweatpants pockets and meanders towards the exit. By now, they should have been tucked away in some breakfast diner eating pancakes with too much syrup. Instead, Ange was in a depressing, empty hallway and her only companions were her thoughts. They were really horrible companions.  

 

Just then, the scraped up and abused rectangle of metal she calls a phone buzzes against her fist. She’d just gotten a text.

 

”Are you up, Possible?”

 

A grin involuntarily spreads on her face. Bonnie’s name blinks across the top of her grainy LED screen. Quickly, Ange presses her thumbs to the buttons on her phone.

 

”Good morning, Bonnie. Unfortunately, I am. How can I help you?”

 

”You type like my grandma.” Ange snickers. It wouldn’t be Bonnie if there wasn’t some snark. ”Meet me at the mall in an hour.” Or some demands. Ah well, Ange signed up for this.

 

”How could I say no. What do you want to do?”

 

”I’m going to teach you what popular girls do on the weekend,” is Bonnie’s final reply.

 

Ange stares at the message, feeling her heart do a pleasant flip in her chest. She places her phone back in her pocket. Then, she crouches low, only to jump high in the air. Her extended fist just barely brushes the ceiling.

 

“Yippieee!”

 

---

 

Nine in the morning on a Saturday at the Middleton mall was a tranquil affair. Most of the stores are open, but few people are about to enjoy them. Bonnie is sitting at an outdoor table in one of the cafes, sipping on something chocolatey and sweet when she spots Ange walking down the street. Bonnie clicks her tongue. Ange was wearing some old sweatpants and an oversized t-shirt. The only thing remotely interesting about her outfit was the chunky red sneakers. Bonnie would have to change that if Ange was going to be seen around her.

 

To her mild surprise, after scanning the small crowd, Ange spots her as well. A sunny smile breaks out on her face that Bonnie refuses to let affect her. Not many people reacted like that specifically when they had to hang out with her.

 

Ange enters the cafe. After a five minute wait, she exits with two steaming to-go cups and settles in the chair beside Bonnie.

 

“Hi Bonnie,” Ange says, putting down a cup of tea. Bonnie watches in mild fascination when Ange tilts her head back and starts chugging the cup of... it smells like coffee, until there’s nothing left. She puts the empty container down with a grimace. “Sorry, I’m not really a morning person.” 

 

“Really.” Bonnie looks her up and down, deadpan. “I never would have guessed.” Compared to Ange’s awful outfit and messy hair, Bonnie was cleanly dressed in a simple black shirt and her favorite fitted white pants. Despite the sarcasm, Ange just gives her a lazy grin and a once over.

 

Bonnie lets her draw her own conclusions.

 

“Of course you would be, huh,” Ange says, pulling the bag of tea from her second cup. The tag says white jasmine with orange blossom. “Gimme a break this once, I was drunk last night.” That makes Bonnie raise an eyebrow. So they would be acknowledging last night, then. 

 

“Not a chance, Possible.” Bonnie lifts her chin haughtily, eyeing Ange over the bridge of her nose. “I don’t lower my standards for anyone. Besides, you want me to be mean to you.” To her satisfaction, Ange flusters. The blush on her cheeks can’t be hidden, even if Ange lets her hair fall in front of her face.

 

Ange takes a sip of her tea to recover. “...Only in the fun way,” she finally says, and Bonnie laughs her first laugh of the day. “So, you wanted to show me what popular girls do?” 

 

Good, Ange knew how to focus. Bonnie smirks her evilest smirk. “Oh yes. You’re going to need a lot of mentoring if you’re going to hang around me, Angie.” Bonnie points one of her slender fingers at the girl and waves it up and down. “But first, we need to fix all of… this.”

 

“You just gestured at all of me- oh.” Ange places a rueful chin onto a rueful palm. “Fine, I’ll play along for now.”

 

---

 

Ange fidgets besides her at the entrance of Club Banana. Bonnie does her best to ignore it but eventually she reaches over and flicks Ange on her shoulder. “It is not that bad.”

 

“I think I saw someone die here, Bonnie,” Ange says gravely. Bonnie rolls her turquoise eyes. What a drama queen.

 

“So what, people die every day. You’re not special.” Tired of the situation, Bonnie heads inside. As expected, Ange follows after her. Maybe this is what having a puppy was like. She glances back to see Ange hunched over and twitchy. Or like, a pet rabbit? Whatever. “Now, Angie,” Bonnie gestures to all of the racks, a sweet and sarcastic smile on her face. “Show me what you should grab first.” 

 

At least Ange realizes she’s being tested. After regarding Bonnie with narrowed eyes, Ange starts looking around until she spots a stack of neatly folded sweatpants. Bonnie smacks the back of her hand lightly before Ange can grab one. 

 

“I didn’t say show me what you grab first,” Bonnie says, her other hand on her hip. “I said show me what you should grab first.” 

 

Ange gives her an amused look. “Forgive me for the transgression,” she says, and Bonnie ignores the sarcasm in it. “How about this, then.” Ange walks over and picks up a pair of navy bowknot pencil pants. Not a bad choice. Bonnie leans on her back leg in surprise.

 

“Wow, Possible.” Bonnie grabs a sleeveless blouse and walks over. “I didn’t think you had it in you.” She holds the shirt against Ange’s torso. “Or maybe it was a lucky guess,” Bonnie says dryly.

 

“Hey.” Ange adopts an offended look she doesn’t mean. “I do have an eye for fashion, Rockwaller.” Still, she lets Bonnie grab another shirt and compare the two against her frame.

 

“Then why do you dress like a bum?” Bonnie sets the halter top down. The blouse would be better. 

 

“I spend most of my time in the lab.” The lab, again. This nerd really needed to get a life. Fortunately, Bonnie was kind enough to act as a guardian angel right now. “There’s chemicals, fire, and a lot of heavy machinery down there. There’s no point in wearing nice clothes.” 

 

Bonnie heads towards the changing room. When she throws an unamused look over her shoulder, she’s pleased to find Ange once again obediently following her. Bonnie could get used to it. “Let me rephrase, then.” Shoving the outfit against Ange’s chest, she nods at a changing room. “Why do you dress like a bum in public.”

 

“If I don’t have to change out of my clothes before heading to the lab, I get more time to experiment.” 

 

“Omg, Ange, you are such a dork,” Bonnie says. Spits out, really. Ange just smirks at her over one of the changing room doors. Bonnie can just see the hint of well defined shoulders as Ange pulls her ratty t-shirt off.

 

“And yet, you’re here hanging out with me, said dork,” Ange counters, rustling on her new clothes. “So what does that make you?”

 

“A good samaritan,” Bonnie says. She hears laughter from behind the door. It makes Bonnie grin. Finally, the door opens and Ange steps out in the bowknot pants she picked and the sleeveless blouse that Bonnie chose. A really good samaritan, apparently. Last night, Bonnie hadn’t had the chance to get a proper look at Ange. It was hard when Ange refused to let Bonnie get out of her lap. Ange had said something about her being too cute and small to let go, and the only reason Bonnie had let that go is because Ange had been drunk.

 

And right, technically.

 

Now that Ange was sober - and more obedient - Bonnie could actually give her a proper assessment. Very obedient, because when Bonnie makes a twirling motion with a finger, Ange does a slow turn around. Ange had some long legs, lovely hips, and a slim waist. Now that she wasn’t wearing a t-shirt that was too big for her, Bonnie could actually see some definition in her chest. Certainly, Ange was more gifted than Kim in that regard. Before she thinks better of it, Bonnie reaches over and grips one of Ange’s arms. 

 

“Huh.” Well balanced, slim, and dense muscles corded up Ange’s forearms and upper arms. She knew Ange worked out but the results were far better than expected. “Ange, if you ever wear a shitty t-shirt in front of me again I’ll kill you.” 

 

Bonnie sees Ange nod out of the corner of her eye. When she looks up, Ange has turned away. Through a part in Ange’s hair, Bonnie can see a bright red ear. Maybe she wasn’t used to being touched? “Noted,” Ange says. It sounds like she’s choking, though. 

 

Interesting. 

 

Chapter 25: Chapter 25

“We just picked out a perfectly acceptable outfit, Possible!” Bonnie’s voice goes shrill. Somehow, Ange is able to ignore it as she browses through the racks of Club Banana. Folded over her arm are two sets of joggers in black and white. Her other arm is busy sifting through a row of hanging t-shirts. “You were just convincing me you had taste. Why do you have to ruin a good thing?” 

 

Ange sees a scowl of deep judgment on Bonnie’s pretty face when she finally looks up. It makes Ange smirk. It would definitely destroy their budding friendship if she said it out loud, but Ange thought Bonnie’s annoyed face was cute.

 

Or, she likes girls so much it makes her stupid. It’s probably the second option. 

 

“Don’t worry.” Ange pulls out a t-shirt to examine the printed design. “I am definitely planning to wear the beautiful Bonnie approved outfit to school sometime.” No, it was too loud for her. Instead, she pulls out a few plain shirts of varying colors. They would look good with the red bolero jacket she had hung up on her - really small - side of the closet she shared with Kim at home. “But, and I know you’ve noticed, it doesn’t go with my sneakers.” Ange needs something more sporty to match her - equally small - shoe collection.

 

“And what exactly is wrong with the beautiful Bonnie approved shoes I kindly, and graciously picked out for you?” Bonnie says, voice colored by impatience. “I don’t do this for just anyone, Angie.” The glare she sends Ange could strip paint. Ange stares at the navy blue pumps Bonnie had set aside for her.

 

“Heels scare me,” Ange admits with apprehension. Bonnie rolls her eyes.

 

“They’re one inch heels. Don’t be such a baby.” 

 

“And,” Ange says, continuing her thought. “I am truly grateful you’re going to such lengths for a pauper like me.” Arms finally full of clothes that probably wouldn’t make Bonnie throw up - her t-shirts would actually fit properly, for one - Ange starts towards the checkout counter. “But I’m kind of an active person.” Ange pointedly motions to the joggers she’d picked out. “So, I’m getting something that’s active, but looks good. You know, like a compromise. You do know what a compromise is, right?” When Bonnie’s nostrils flare Ange bites down on her tongue. 

 

She’s pretty sure if Bonnie sees her smile right now, Bonnie will take out one of her eyes. Or both - likely both.

 

Ange sets her armful of clothes and one pair of one inch pumps as neatly as she can onto the counter. Monique stares at Ange from behind it. Her brown eyes dart between the unlikely pair, mouth hanging open with shock. Bonnie finally notices the delay, and turns her glare towards Monique. 

 

“What is your ish? Start checking us out, please.” Bonnie says, crossing her arms. “Or are we going to have to wait until the next century?” Monique glares right back, but she does start scanning Ange’s clothes into the system. Ange makes a mental note to socialize Bonnie more.

 

“Girl, tell me if she’s got you at gunpoint, alright? I’ll get Kim on it stat.” Monique doesn’t stop staring Bonnie down as she speaks to Ange. Ange smiles graciously back.

 

“Thank you and good morning, Monique. I hope you’re having a lovely day.” It’s always best to lead by example.

 

“It was,” Monique says, dry as the Sahara. Bonnie rolls her eyes as hard as she can. Seriously, they were getting a workout. Before Bonnie can make what will certainly be a scathing retort, Ange is sure to interrupt her. 

 

“You know, Bonnie, if you’re nice to people who are on the job, they give you better service.” 

 

“They’re paid to give me good service anyway.” Bonnie points out the obvious. Ange and Monique share a glance of mutual understanding. If Ange was going to do this right then it was time to pull out the big guns.

 

“If you’re nicer to Monique, I’ll let you pick out my outfits for next week.”

 

Turquoise eyes regard Ange with deep suspicion. “I’m going to be at Wannaweep next week.”

 

“Oh, is that so?” Ange says lightly. As Monique finishes ringing her up, Ange pulls her wallet out to pay. “What a coincidence.” She sees the corner of Monique’s lip twitches upwards. Handling Bonnie like this was probably amusing for any bystander.

 

“I get to choose what you wear for four weeks,” Bonnie says, upping the stakes as punishment. “And you’re paying for our lunch later.” 

 

“Two weeks,” Ange counters, taking her bag that’s bursting with fashion. When she sees Bonnie bristle, she throws in another offer. “I’ll also let you put makeup on me.” It makes Bonnie stop short. Ange does her best not to shrink when Bonnie leans a little closer to stare at her face. Bonnie’s perfume teases her senses and she has to pretend her mouth hasn’t gone completely dry. Ange can see the curlers and mascaras and… Whatever else is associated with makeup dancing across Bonnie’s mind already.

 

“Deal,” Bonnie finally says. For some reason, Ange feels like she signed a death warrant. 

 

---

Bonnie walks out of the spa with long, relaxed strides. A full body seaweed wrap, a mani-pedi, and a facial scrub left her absolutely glowing. Behind her, Ange follows her more wound up than when she had entered. Ange stares at her baby soft hands with forlorn, wet eyes. Her callouses! Those monsters had filed off her callouses. They were going to take a week to form back up. At least her nails were pretty. Bonnie had picked out a dark ocean blue that would bring out her eyes. Bonnie’s words, not hers. 

 

Ange ignores the giddy feeling bubbling at the base of her throat. Just because Bonnie noticed her eye color doesn’t mean she should get excited. Ange notices Bonnie’s eye color, like, all the time.

 

“Can we eat now?” Ange says, trying to pull her train of thought off of those particular rails. Bonnie glances at her from over her shoulder. That train stays on its rails. “I’m starving.” She finishes, rubbing at her pitifully empty belly. Maybe altering her own genome wasn’t her brightest idea ever. Her hand rubs against the hard plain of developing abs. 

 

Nope, Ange didn’t regret it at all.

 

“As long as you’re still paying.” Bonnie reminds her. It was starting to approach noon and the mall had noticeably more people in it. If they waited too long, they would have to brave the lunch rush. Ange walks up next to her, wiggling her shoulders in excitement. Orange chicken! Spring rolls! Bonnie looks mildly embarrassed to be associated with her. Ange isn't sure if she imagines the hint of fondness too. It's probably wishful thinking.

 

In a deliberately casual movement, Ange drapes one of her hands over Bonnie’s shoulder and starts guiding them towards the food court. Bonnie freezes for a moment, then relaxes underneath her arm. Good, Bonnie doesn’t seem to be holding the fountain incident against her anymore.

 

“Duh, we have a deal, don’t we?” 

 

Turquoise eyes roll. Bonnie couldn’t figure out why Ange gave all her favors away for other people. In the middle of its roll, something catches her eye. Bonnie pauses mid step. 

 

Ange mirrors her instantaneously. She follows Bonnie’s line of sight from Bonnie’s lovely face towards a tucked away record shop. The Oh Boyz hadn’t dropped anything new in the last few days, nor was there anything from MC Honey that Ange had heard about. That was about the extent of Ange’s mainstream music knowledge, though. But she didn’t actually know what kind of music Bonnie preferred, did she? On the display window is a poster for a band she’s never heard of. A dark background with a burst of color on the lower right. 

 

Ange looks back at Bonnie thoughtfully. “Do you wanna go check it out?” Ange says.

 

“No, let's eat.” With her wrist hanging on Bonnie’s shoulder, Ange can feel how Bonnie tenses slightly. Should she press for details?

 

Before Ange can make a decision, her stomach lets out a deep, rumbling gurgle. Ange looks at her stomach with wide eyes. Bonnie looks at her stomach with wide eyes. Ange is pretty certain a few passerbys also look at her stomach with wide eyes. When Bonnie turns her astonished gaze up at Ange’s face, Ange can only give her a sheepish smile. 

 

“Please, and thank you.”

 

---

 

Half way through their meal, part of the cheer squad and several boys and girls Ange remembers seeing walking around the school pull up to their table. They must have finally woken up after sleeping in for the weekend. A much more reasonable option than the painfully early hour Ange had been forced to get up at. An hour that Bonnie got up at willingly, somehow. 

 

Bonnie’s posture goes from a relaxed, sort of lazy elegance to her usual haughty better-than-thou demeanor instantly. Even her smile seamlessly melts into a fox-like smirk. Ange watches the change in fascination.

 

Tara smiles at Ange, having taken the spot on Bonnie’s other side. Like she’s done it a million times, she rests her chin on Bonnie’s shoulder. Instead of speaking, Ange gives Tara a little nod back. Her mouth is full. Unlike Ron, she has excellent manners. 

 

“We missed you late Friday night, Bonnie.” Tara says, mouth bobbing on Bonnie’s shoulder. A chorus of agreement follows from the others. “Where’d you run off to?” Thankfully, Ange is still chewing. It helps hide the amused smirk growing on her face.

 

Bonnie shoots a withering look at Ange. “I had to do some last minute babysitting.” She finally says as she pokes at her grilled Teriyaki Chicken.

 

Tara lets out a disappointed little cluck. “That is such a bummer! Murphy ate shit doing a keg stand at the afterparty. You would have loved it.” 

 

“Language.” Ange murmurs impulsively, then stiffens. The entire group is looking at her. Bonnie palms her face. “Uh, but it sounds like the party got pretty crazy.” She says, trying to recover.

 

The smile Tara gives her is both pitying and sweet. “Not really. That’s just how those things go.” Where had Ange heard that before? 

 

Tara’s gaze turns into something curious. “I heard you had a fight with, uh, what’s his name? Dominic? At the dance last night. Is everything okay?” At the hint of drama, the rest of the group leans further in.  It’s a genuine question, Ange decides to conclude. Tara wasn’t mean in that kind of way. Besides Ange, Bonnie shifts to better watch her.

 

“His name is Donavan.” Even though they weren’t… talking right now - she hoped it was a ‘right now’ and not an ‘anymore’ - Ange still didn’t want to air their dirty laundry to the group. “We, uh.. Had a disagreement about math. Addition, division. Stuff like that.” 

 

“Do you have to be such a nerd all the time, Ange?” Bonnie snarks carefully, which makes the smile on Ange’s face a little more real. Ange shoots her a grateful glance before she gazes around at all the people assessing her. She assesses them right back. Amusement, suspicion, curiosity, uninterest. A whole rainbow of opinion. How nice. She should move this along before their judgements get too off the rails. 

 

“Then what does constitute a crazy party?” To her relief, one of the boys starts laughing.

 

“Oh man, remember when Max jumped from the roof into the pool at Lucas’? The one where we shaved that llama!” It draws out more laughter from the people around him. “Now that was a crazy party.” 

 

Ange lets the others pick up the conversation, only half listening. The steadily shrinking pile of chicken in her takeout carton was much more interesting. On her next bite, she looks up to find Bonnie still watching her. There’s a question on her face. But more interestingly, there’s calculation behind those turquoise eyes. Bonnie is looking at Ange like she’s figuring out how to best dissect her. It fills Ange’s chest with a warm rush of emotion.

 

After she swallows, Ange wipes her mouth with a neatly folded napkin and gives Bonnie a blue eyed wink. 

Chapter 26: Chapter 26

A large bus idles in the Middleton High parking lot. It’s five in the morning on a Monday and the air is trying to decide if it should be brisk or chilly. A few of Bonnie's girls are standing around, blinking sleepily at nothing in particular. They were too tired to make conversation right now, which is just fine by her. Bonnie likes her morning quiet. Usually with a little more activity, but she can make an exception for Regionals. 

 

Bonnie is leaning against a light pole. She wills the rest of her girls to arrive sooner. The drive to camp would take more than half the day, and that’s if traffic is good. 

 

Her girls were wonderful. Being stuck in a bus with them for six to eight hours would get annoying for all of them.

 

The ring of a bell catches her attention. There’s a glowing light from the other end of the lot that glides towards the bus. 

 

Bonnie watches the arrival of two very polarizing people. There was Ange, pedaling away on a heavy, old mountain bike that had probably seen better days. Hopefully soon, Bonnie would figure out why she had such a penchant for subpar equipment. Then there was Kim, sitting with her, admittedly nice, legs crossed over the other on the back rack that was installed above the bike wheel. She has an arm wrapped around Ange’s waist for balance and an annoyingly content smile on her face. 

 

“Tch.” Bonnie makes a small noise of disapproval. It would be more tolerable if she could trade Kim for Ange. At the very least, Ange obeyed her. Bonnie thinks about the fountain incident. Most of the time.

 

Bonnie can see them talking about something, but doesn’t get to hear what until they’re close enough.

 

“-m sure it’ll go by in a flash.” Kim’s voice fades in. “You’ve always been good at passing the time, anyway.”

 

“I do have access to the lab again…” Ange says thoughtfully. Bonnie raises an eyebrow at that detail. “School’s gonna suck though,” she adds with a sigh.

 

It makes Bonnie frown. No matter how much she had needled Ange on Saturday, Ange hadn’t spilled the beans on what happened between her and Donavan at the dance. Bonnie suspected what it could be of course. A dance, a boy and a girl, a fight, the clues were kind of obvious. 

 

She just didn’t know Ange well enough yet to read her properly. It was a skill she was hoping to refine after Regionals were over and done with. Ange could speak in as many layers as she did. Figuring out when Ange was doing it was the fun part. It was a refreshing change of pace. Most of Bonnie’s usual group could get a little...basic. 

 

All she knew was that Ange would probably be spending this week very alone.

 

Whose fault is that, Bonnibel? Bonnie shoves that thought back into its cage.

 

The familiar sound of Ron’s janky and broken down moped drags her from her reverie. There he is, puttering up to the parking lot. There were some suitcases strapped to his awful vehicle. Likely his and Kim’s. Unfortunately, the Maddog mascot got to come along to this retreat too.

 

Turquoise eyes continue to observe them. Kim hops off of the bike. Ange props open the kickstand and swings her leg over the metal body. She sweeps Kim in an over the top hug that takes the redhead off of her feet. Bonnie can hear muffled giggles against Ange’s shoulder. It turns into full blown laughter when Ange starts spinning her in circles. Two sisters making a fool of themselves before the sun even rises.

 

That’s how sisters were meant to be. 

 

A sudden and overwhelming pang of grief. 

 

Bonnie rips her attention away, blinking rapidly to cut away the sting in her eyes. She pushes herself off of the light pole and away from the group. It’s easier to gather herself in the dark anyway. Her breathing is shaking, but focused. After counting backwards from twenty, she’s whole again. 

 

When she turns around, Ange has put Kim down and is heading in her direction. Bonnie makes sure her face gives nothing away.

 

“Possible,” Bonnie says, tone grumpier than she intended.

 

“Good morning, Bonnie.” Ange beams, ignoring it. She posts up under the light pole, where Bonnie had just been. “Are you excited for Camp Wannaweep?”

 

“Camp Wannaweep, no. Winning Regionals, oh yes.” Her voice falls into familiar arrogance. Her hip cocks to the side with confidence. This was more her style. “If you ask nicely, I’ll let you hold the trophy.” 

 

It makes Ange laugh. “Aww, Bonnie. You’ll spoil me.” Ange makes a beckoning motion with her hand and before Bonnie can think better of it, Bonnie walks towards her. It makes Bonnie’s reason stutter with surprise. Thankfully, Ange is too busy fishing something out of her nicer looking jogger pants pocket to notice. “Do you have a Upod?”

 

“Who do you think I am?” Bonnie rests a hand on the swell of her hip and scorns Ange with her gaze. For some reason, Ange smiles indulgently in the face of it. “Of course I do,” Bonnie says.

 

Ange holds her hand up to show Bonnie her prize.

 

In Ange’s finally manicured palm is something that looks a bit like a flash drive. One that was modified, maybe. “You’re right. It was silly of me to assume the queen of the school wouldn’t have the latest in technology.” 

 

Bonnie scoffs at the nickname, then wonders if she could convince Ange to call her ‘your Majesty.’ She probably could.

 

“Can I please see it?” Ange says. 

 

“I’ll actually kill you if you fuck it up right before this bus ride,” Bonnie says, dutifully ignoring Ange’s murmured ‘language’. Instead, she places her rose gold Upod into Ange’s warm palm. She watches Ange press a button on the modified flash drive and plug it into her device. The screen flashes on and off for several seconds. Bonnie doesn’t panic only because Ange still has that little smile she likes to wear on her face. “What are you doing with it, anyway?”

 

“Oh.” Interestingly, Ange looks ever so slightly flustered. Bonnie shifts all of her focus onto Ange’s facial expressions. “Uhm, I kind of made you a playlist.” Ange scratches the back of her neck awkwardly. Now why in the world would Ange react like that? “I thought it’d be nice to have something to listen to, since you kind of have a long ride ahead of you.” The Upod gives a little beep, and Ange presses the button of the flash drive again before pulling it free. “Feel free to tell me if I chose wrong, though.”

 

Ange hands it back to Bonnie, rocking back and forth on her heels. Was she hiding shyness? Bonnie gives her a long, assessing look. When Ange starts fidgeting in place, Bonnie finally looks away. 

 

Her Upod clicks on. Bonnie slides her finger against the wheel until she finds the newest fileset that Ange had titled ‘4Bonnie’.

 

The first thing she sees is a picture of a black poster that has color splashed all over the bottom right corner. Her breath catches, just slightly, with surprise. It was the same poster that had been pasted onto the window of the record shop they’d passed on Saturday. The poster for a band that none of her friends had heard of, from a genre Bonnie didn’t care to show them. When it came to music, pop and hip-hop were the safest subjects to talk about with her peers. 

 

She scrolls the wheel down. The rest of the songs, save a special few, are from bands she doesn’t recognize. There are a lot of them too. Bonnie looks at the size of the playlist and this time she doesn’t even try to hide her surprise. “You made me a seven hour long playlist?” 

 

“It’s six hours and fifty five minutes, actually,” Ange corrects. Of course Ange is a big enough nerd to memorize that. “Since, uh, the bus ride is going to take between six and eight hours, I figured I’d split the difference… Approximately.” 

 

Bonnie looks up from her Upod to analyze Ange a second time. Ange has a nervous grin on her face, but her eyes are watching Bonnie just as intently, trying to capture every microexpression. They both realize what they’re doing at the same time. Where Bonnie raises an eyebrow, Ange lets her nervous grin twitch into a little smirk. It’s all either of them are willing to acknowledge.

 

“You don’t have to like the music,” Ange finally says, reaching over to drape her hand over Bonnie’s shoulder. Her arm is warm and sturdy against Bonnie’s back. “And I only had one data point to go off of, but I tried to choose songs I thought would suit your taste.”

 

Last Friday, Ange had pressed her face into Bonnie’s shoulder and told her she smelled nice. Which, of course she did. Bonnie had spent a lot of time experimenting with scents to find the one that suited her best - Bart Maurant’s Everything Nice, Series No. 8. A delicate mix of jasmine, orchid flower, and saffron, chilli spice that she dabbed just behind each ear every morning. Bonnie would never say it out loud, but Ange’s scent was quite pleasant too. It was some kind of chocolatey, caramel sweet, and deeply spicy mix that barely rested on Ange’s skin. When Bonnie was this close to Ange, an occasional tantalizing thread of it would brush up against her nose.

 

She takes a deep breath and smiles. 

 

“I’ll save my judgement for the road.” Bonnie goes back to scrolling the playlist, familiarizing herself with the cover art of each song. Maybe Ange had a lot of time to listen to music down in that lab. “And I’m totally going chew you out if you just filled my Upod up with crap, Ange.” She pokes her finger into Ange’s (very solid) side, but it’s not a harsh movement at all. “Pray you did good.” 

 

Ange sighs. “Thanks Bonnie. I totally wanted to spend the next five days wondering if you’ll let me live on Friday,” she admits. Bonnie laughs at it.

 

“Girls.” Kim’s voice calls out to them from a few feet away. There’s a strange look on her face. It quickly morphs into a raised eyebrow pointed at Ange. “We’re almost ready to go.” During their conversation, the other cheerleaders must have arrived and settled in. “Are you ready, Bonnie?” Her green eyes focus on Bonnie’s Upod.

 

Moment broken, Bonnie slides out from under Ange’s arm. “Of course I am, K. I was the first one here.” She lifts a haughty chin as she walks by the redhead. “I just hope you’re ready. I don’t want to have to carry any deadweight at Regionals.” Bonnie catches Kim rolling her eyes to the sky out of the corner of her vision.

 

As she makes her way towards the bus, she hears Kim and Ange talking behind her.

 

“You made her a playlist? You didn’t make me a playlist!”

 

“You already have the entire Oh Boyz and MC Honey discography on your Kimmunicator!”

 

“It’s the thought that counts, Angie!”

 

“Well, maybe if you ask nicely, Bonnie will share.”

 

Bonnie climbs up into the bus with a cat-like smile on her face.

Notes:

I’m actually so obsessed with this au I made the playlist mentioned in this chapter in real life. The first song “Evening Coffee” is the post referenced. The rest are songs I thought Ange would think Bonnie would like.

Link for the curious: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2m6Dvd1zt0CvZwnV3v6ur9?si=d999621688e14264

Not to brag, but every one is a banger

Chapter 27: Chapter 27

Notes:

Be warned, death is mentioned in this chapter.

No named characters were harmed in the making of this chapter.

Donavan is waiting by her locker when she gets there. Ange’s stride pauses for a half second before she continues with a quicker pace. When he spots her, he looks away immediately. The budding hope in her chest withers away. 

 

This time would be different. She wasn’t going to passively wait for life to flow around her. Ange was going to grab it by the horns. “Donavan?” Despite the determination, her voice still comes out wet. “About the dance, I-” He holds a hand up, silently asking her for a moment. Ange gives it to him.

 

“I still want to be your friend.” Donavan’s voice is just as watery. Ange can tell he’s trying to keep it together as much as she is. “B-but, I need.. I just need a bit of space to get over this.” Finally, he turns to look at her. Heartbreak is all she can see. “When I’m ready, I’ll come find you.” Donavan waits for her to nod a shaky nod. Then, he walks to their English Literature class and lets her gather her textbook by herself.

 

She opens the door numbly, looking at the insides. A textbook for each class, a portable toolkit, a carbon laser cutter, five smoke bombs, and a grappling hook stare back at her. Ange places her textbook in her bag.

 

Bonnie wouldn’t be here. Donavan wasn’t talking to her for now. Thank god it was only for now. The tweebs were fun to build with, but only in small doses. Most of the day, her parents had more important things to do than tinker in the downstairs laboratory. There was no way she could interrupt them just to pass the time. Kim would be away all week for Regionals. Ange knew how much that meant to her.

 

Angelus closes her locker door and makes a decision.

 

Cracking the code to Kim’s locker is only a little harder than the others. It would be tougher for someone with less knowledge on Kim’s security system. Automatically, the computer built into the cage turns on. Ange takes a second to study the two mugshots Kim has taped to her door before she’s greeted with the sight of Wade typing furiously onto his computer. He has a wireless headset on and he’s barking orders at his mic.

 

“I need another healer on our tank, guys. This is just sloppy!” Ange hears the sound of some kind of explosion, maybe a roar too? If she had to bet money on it, Ange is certain Ron would know what Wade was playing by sound alone. “No, don’t stop pushing on the right si- Stop saying LEROY JENKINS!” Ange hears another, muffled voice shouting leeeeeeeeeeroy jeeeeeeeenkins out of Wade’s headset immediately afterwards. There’s another explosion that has Wade falling back into his chair, smushing his hand into his face. He lets out one exhausted “Auuuuuuugh,” before he catches sight of her. 

 

“Ange?!” Wade jumps, then glares at the slightly amused smile Ange shoots him. His look morphs into concern. “What are you doing here? Is everything alright with Kim?” 

 

“Just peachy.” Ange says. She winces at how much sarcasm is in it. “I was just thinking about something, and I was hoping you could work with me on it.” Wade raises a curious eyebrow at her. “Kim’s away kicking cheerleader butt right now.” He nods, taking a sip from his big gulp. “And it’s really important for her to be able to focus on that, right?” Another nod, though it’s slower. 

 

Good, he was putting it together. Smart people were always so nice to talk to.

 

“Let me take over her missions.” Ange says. “Just for this week.” She adds quickly. Ange gives him more points for not denying her immediately. She watches him think about it before speaking. 

 

“I don’t know, Ange.. Some of her missions can get really dangerous.”

 

“I’ve already considered that.” Ange says, then points out with severe gravity. “But Kim is trying to win Regionals.” 

 

Wade gives her another pensive stare, then a thoughtful nod. “That is a really good point…” Ange can pinpoint the moment Wade gives in. He turns to one of the keyboards on his desk and types away at a speed she didn’t realize was possible. “How about this, let's do a trial run.” 

 

Gathering data. Ange wiggles a little with delight. 

 

The printer attached to the locker’s computer starts spitting out a sheaf of paper. “A dam broke in Southern Oregon. They could use some assistance with search and rescue.”

 

Ange tears it out and reads the details over. “When’s my ride arriving?” 

 

“I’m calling in a favor from a pilot in California. He should be able to get to you in about an hour.” 

 

Ange purses her lips. Then, they break into a grin. She’s made another decision. “Reroute it to the house, Wade.” Ange feels her eyes narrow with determination. “I need to change.” 

 

---

 

Ange spends the entire ride to Oregon memorizing the Search and Rescue Tips and Tricks pamphlet Wade had printed out for her. She’s wearing ratty sweatpants, a fitted t-shirt, her red bolero jacket, some chunky sneakers, along with Kim’s usual mission kit, and two power bars. She ate the third before she took off.

 

---

 

Her parachute is still billowing when she touches ground. Ange uses the buoyancy to stuff it back in its pack, ensuring it can’t tangle on anything hidden under the icy flood water. It’s up to her knees, but she knows it’s worse farther to the north. Wade was kind enough to gift her an inflatable raft that springs to life as soon as it touches the water. She hops onto it and starts right into the fray.

 

The first… thing… she sees is a corpse, bloated and floating face down in muddy water. She paddles past it. Ange isn’t looking for things. 

 

She sees exactly ninety five of them during her search anyway.

 

It is best to continue. Ange pulls seventy two different people out from deep water and broken attics. 

 

They’re scared, cold, and blank with grief. And yet, she gets a desperate, iron-tight hug here. Someone slips a piece of candy into her pocket there. Its wrapper is covered in dried, flaking mud, but the artificial orange flavor bursts vibrantly on her tongue. Another person lets her pet their dog. Three waterlogged cats guard a mother and her infant. A withered old man gives her a smile so grateful Ange sees it every time she closes her eyes. Ange shares one of her power bars with a young orphan. He gives her a tiny little toy soldier that Ange buries deep into her backpack.

 

It’s four solid hours of non-stop movement before the area is declared clear. She eats her last bar on the train ride home, dripping stinky flood water onto the metal cargo floor. 

 

In her pocket, the Kimmunicator Wade had shipped to her beeps four times.

 

“Well, how’d it go?” He asks, studying her reaction carefully.

 

Ange thinks about every single person she met today and smiles.

 

“Spankin’.” 

 

---

 

It’s super late when she gets home. 

 

Ange goes in through the bedroom window so she doesn’t wake up her parents. She showers, changes into her pajamas, and wonders why she’s able to go to sleep so easily. 

 

In the morning, the tiny toy soldier she’d placed on her side of the desk catches her eye. Ange stops wondering.

 

---

 

When Ange walks into her English Lit class on Tuesday morning she discovers that Donavan has switched his seat with someone else. Another nerd that shoots her a suspicious look and refuses to speak to her. 

 

Ange forgets how much it stings an hour later, when Wade calls her about an earthquake in El Salvador.

 

---

 

She makes it until Friday before Wade calls her on another mission. She used the downtime to invent drones that detect human heartbeats through most solid objects. They were accurate up to sixty five feet, but it really depends on the density they had to work through. The Kimmunicator goes off in the middle of the library, right before she’s about to take her first bite of her sandwich. The only reason the librarian doesn’t give her a dirty look is because Ange has always been a very good girl up until now. Still, she shoves all of her food back in her lunch pack and scrambles out of the heavy double doors.

 

“Sitch me, Wade.” Ange says, trying not to drop a loose apple slice. 

 

“I can’t get into contact with Kim.” Wade says. It falls to the floor with a wet thud. A deep and bone chillingly cold something starts uncoiling somewhere in the depths of her chest. Before she can figure out what that is, Wade says something else that makes her clench her teeth. “But it gets worse. I just got reading on Drakken and Shego’s movements. They have a lair in Utah, and it looks like Drakken has been building something big.”

 

“How big?” Please let it be something I can ignore, Ange prays. The look Wade is giving her isn’t promising. 

 

“Like, rip the earth in two, big.”

 

“...Do you know how long until it’s operational?” 

 

Wade’s jaw drops open in surprise. “This is the end of the world we’re talking about!” 

 

It surprises Ange that what she says next surprises her so little. “Kim is more important.” She does her best to ignore how Wade’s face shifts into something disappointed and closed off. Instead, Ange pushes her point forward. “There’s no way Drakken would set it off without a few hours of threatening and posturing, right?”

 

“I’m worried about her too.” Wade actually turns away from his screen to look at her head on. “But she’s Kim Possible, Ange. She knows how to take care of herself. Not to mention, she has Ron and Rufus to watch her back.” Honestly, if the world wasn’t at stake, Wade would think it was kind of touching that that didn’t seem to convince Ange to drop it. “I’m also sending people to her location as we speak. If she really needs help, she’ll get it.”

 

Logically, it makes sense. 

 

Ange wasn’t logical when it came to her people. “Wade, I need to know if she needs help-”

 

A flashing light on Wade’s side of the Kimmunicator draws their attention. Whatever it is makes him start typing frantically on his keyboard. “Your timer just started.” He pulls a screen up on Ange’s Kimmunicator. A muted and grainy video of an evil, raving man strutting around a large machine starts playing. “Drakken just sent this video to every government head in the world.” Drakken caresses the metal hull, staring directly into the camera. Wade’s voice speaks over whatever he’s saying. “If they don’t surrender to him in four hours,” In the video, Drakken stands up to his full height - scarred, broad shouldered and grinning wide enough to show off his canines. Slowly, he stalks towards the camera. “He’s going to destroy the whole world.”

 

The last thing Ange sees before the video goes black are two shaded and dark eyes staring directly at her.

Chapter 28: Chapter 28

During the ride to camp, most of the girls lay in paired piles and try to catch up on sleep. Kim takes a seat next to a dreary Ron, then moves over to sit by Hope when he starts drooling in his sleep. 

 

Bonnie lets Tara rest on her shoulder. She plugs her earphones into her Upod, looks out the window and spends the entire drive listening to Ange’s six hour and fifty five minute long playlist. 

 

The first song is everything she hoped for in her favorite band's newest release. To her surprise, the second one acts as the perfect transition into Ange’s particular tastes. The list of songs range from fast dance to regretful, balladic, angelic voices. By the time the bus comes to a janky stop at the front gates of Wannaweep, she’s finished every single one. Luckily for Ange, Bonnie wouldn’t have to kill her on Friday.

 

Barkin hands out papers to every cheerleader as they hop down the stairs towards freedom. Bonnie stretches her arms towards the sky until she feels something in her back pop. 

 

“Alright, ladies,” Barkin’s voice bellows against the overgrown wood pike walls. That... probably wasn’t a good sign. “Don’t lose this. It has our schedule for the week. Your assigned cabins are printed out on the back.” She flips her paper over to see a big fat number nine printed into the page. She grins. At least she got assigned to her lucky number. “Go get settled in and we’ll meet up at five thirty for dinner.” Bonnie grabs her duffel bag and makes her way into the camp.

 

Past a heavy wood gate, Bonnie gets her very first look at the full luster of Camp Wannaweep. She stops short fast enough that the girl behind her bumps into her.

 

“Bonnie!” Kim sounds annoyed behind her. “What are you doing?!” 

 

“Like, watch where you’re going,” Bonnie shoots back only out of habit. Otherwise, her full attention is on the… swamp, it was a swamp, before her. Once Kim sees what she does, she freezes.

 

Jessica is next to the travesty. “Oh my god,” she says. Hope has to catch her as her knees go weak. “This place is a total dump!” The rest just stare in mouth gaping horror.

 

Vines of poison ivy crawl up cabins that themselves look like they were built with crude machinery. A bush rustles on the overgrown lawn. Bonnie takes a step behind Kim when a snake slithers out of it across a muddy path, only to disappear into grass that had grown up to waist height. It could bite Kim first.

 

Two weeks ago, when this retreat had been announced, the girls had been given a brochure on Camp Wannaweep. It boasted a beautiful sunny lake that was perfect for fishing, boating, and swimming, even in the early fall. This place was several degrees warmer year round than Middleton, which Bonnie had thought would have been a plus. 

 

What sat in front of her was not a lake.

 

A thick layer of stinking, rotting algae covers the entire liquid mass. Bugs hover over that in thick, buzzing clouds. When a breeze meanders by, the mass of insects float along the wind and towards them. The scent does too. Bonnie wasn’t sure which was worse.

 

“Nope!” Bonnie is the first one to react to this disaster. “Nope, I’m renting a hotel room.” She turns around towards the bus. “Girls, who wants to pitch in with me-” The bus reverses right in front of her, only to pull a three point turn and rumble down the unpaved road, away from Camp Wannaweep and towards civilized society. She holds up a quivering, open hand. Even though Bonnie knows it’s useless, she still lets out a whimper. “Come back, you can’t leave me here!” 

 

Kim is the second to recover. “Oh, Bonnie, this is probably no big. Let's look at the bright side.” She looks around once, then again, but more helplessly. The third time doesn’t do anything either. Her shoulders slump. “Okay, I can’t find the bright side to this,” Kim says, defeated. 

 

“I knew it!” Ron cries out. “I knew we shouldn’t have come here! This place is cursed! Cursed I say!” For the first time in Bonnie’s life, she agrees with him. She does, however, tune out his following rant about… monkeys? Whatever else Ron is talking about is definitely not worth her time.  Instead, she reaches into her duffel bag and pulls out her well maintained flip-phone. Bonnie feels her heart drop. This was really the place that keeps on giving.

 

“There’s no service!” It prompts all the other girls to take out their phones too. The looks on their faces definitely confirm they didn’t have any either. “Kim, please tell me you can get something on that thing your nerd friends made up for you!”

 

“It’s called a Kimmunicator!” Kim glares at Bonnie, like that isn’t the cheesiest thing she’s said today. Bonnie rolls her eyes. Still, she fishes it out of her pocket and… Kim’s shoulders slump even lower. “I’ve got nothing.” 

 

Even Barkin doesn’t scold Bonnie for what she says next. Really, she’s just voicing what all of them are thinking.

 

”...Fuck.”

 

---

 

Bonnie places her duffel bag on the top bunk of cabin number nine. Before she can figure out what to do first, clear the cobwebs that haunt every corner of the room, or clean the windows from caked on dust, Kim walks in through the doorway. They stare at each other in mutual horror.  

 

“Cabin number nine?” Kim says, pleading.

 

“Cabin number nine.” Bonnie says, sighing.

 

---

 

Bonnie’s alarm clock goes off at four thirty in the morning. Maybe she forgot to turn it off, maybe she didn’t. Either way, she climbs down the ladder of the top bunk. To her surprise, Kim doesn’t look annoyed to have been woken up this earlier in the morning. To her greater surprise, Kim gets off the bed and joins her on the floor for some warm up stretches.

 

The difference in their routine becomes apparent as Bonnie moves further into her flexibility training. She had to miss a week of ballet classes, but that didn’t mean she was going to fall behind. Kim finishes her stretching and hops onto the balls of her feet. Was it Tai Chi that she starts? Bonnie wouldn’t know. The graceful movements are still fascinating to watch. Maybe Bonnie could add something like that to her routine?

 

Kim catches Bonnie staring when she crouches into White Crane Spreads Wings. She adopts a thoughtful look on her face that goes unnoticed by Bonnie, who quickly looks away. Well, Kim might as well try.

 

“Bonnie?” Kim says. Bonnie looks up from her side split, mildly annoyed.

 

“I was enjoying the quiet, K.” 

 

That was about what I expected, Kim thinks. The path to hell and all that. “Do you want to learn?” she carries on, anyway. Before Bonnie can give her the scoff she knows is coming, Kim continues. “You said you wanted to, that one time.” 

 

It makes Bonnie blink in surprise. When had she said that? Bonnie folds her torso against her leg as she thinks. 

 

Right, it was a Wednesday, back when Ange was still on the track and field team. Bonnie had stopped to watch the two sisters chase each other down in the gymnasium. More like Ange tried to chase Kim down while Kim tried not to get covered in sweat. Then they’d all had a lovely shower together, or whatever. The acrobatics the two had displayed were decent, but it was really the reflexive instincts Bonnie had seen that had captured her interest. In theory, Bonnie knew that Kim went out several times a week to stop evil villains from destroying the world. That afternoon, she had gotten a glimpse of Kim’s competence. 

 

Bonnie wants that.

 

“I don’t see how whatever it is you’re doing is at all related to what I was talking about,” Bonnie decides to say. Tai Chi was beautiful, but it certainly wasn’t capable of kicking ass. Kim lets her lips curl into a knowing smile. 

 

“Fighting looks flashy and cool,” Kim says as she resumes her routine. “But slow movements like these are the building blocks it's all based off of.” She falls into a low Snake Creeps Through the Grass. “Muscle control and proper breathing were skills that I needed to master before I was allowed to run off to dodge death rays and self-destruct villain lairs.”

 

“Is that what your missions are like?” Bonnie asks. Kim nods at her. “Why do lairs even have a self-destruct function?”

 

“Well, that’s just how those things go.” Kim gives her a helpless shrug. It makes Bonnie snort once with amusement. 

 

Bonnie thinks about how skillfully Kim had been able to dodge around Ange. Then she thinks about how she’s made the commitment to be Ange’s friend. That meant she wasn’t allowed to be mean to the people Ange loves, only to Ange. What a weirdo. Bonnie muses fondly. Then she thinks about how she’s going to be stuck sharing a cabin with Kim Possible for the next five days, and she sighs.

 

“Alright, K.” Bonnie stands up and levels her with a determined stare. “Let's give this a shot.” 

 

---

 

By Wednesday, Bonnie and Kim conclude that their girls are almost Regionals ready. The routine is memorized. All that’s left to do is drill it into muscle memory. The vice head cheerleaders do just that Thursday, pushing the squad until they can do every twirl and toe point in their sleep.

 

On Friday, a fucking fish mutant dude thing named Gill covers them all in goo. Ew. Out of everyone to save their sorry asses, it’s Ron Stoppable. Now, Bonnie owes him a favor. Double ew.

 

They never do make it to Regionals.

 

---

 

The Kimmunicator beeps as soon as they’re back in service range. Bonnie is too busy catching up on missed texts to care-

 

“What do you mean Ange has been going out on missions?!” Kim yells from the back of the bus. Kim’s nerd friend that Bonnie doesn’t know the name of says something she can’t hear. It does, however, make Kim’s voice raise a shrill octave.

 

”What do you mean Ange is on a mission to stop Drakken and Shego from destroying the world!?!”

Chapter 29: Chapter 29

Notes:

This is gonna be the last upload until Saturday probably.

Ange stands at the edge of the drop hatch the entire flight without saying a single word. She’s wearing her - now familiar - mission gear, a jump helmet that shields her eyes, and a heavy parachute backpack that weighs down at her shoulders. 

 

When Wade had first given her a personal Kimmunicator, Ange had programmed it to act as a second phone. She didn’t want to risk losing her flip phone halfway across the globe. There was a game of Snake she was half way to winning saved on it. After Ange had climbed up the rope ladder the cargo plane had provided her, the first thing she did was take her Kimmunicator out and send a text to Bonnie.

 

Are you okay?

 

After an hour-long flight, she still hadn’t gotten a reply. Wade would beep her when he had contact with Kim. The cold something in her chest was slowly uncoiling, spreading icy tendrils towards her legs and arms. 

 

Wind howls into the space as the cargo hatch opens downwards. It starts tearing away at her jacket and baggy sweatpants. Ange is jumping before the door even finishes opening.

 

Freefall rips her world wide apart. The horizon stretches an infinite amount in all directions beneath her. She scans it slowly with her eyes until blue locks onto an unnatural ninety degree angle that’s just barely poking out from underneath a mountain. Bingo. Ange tilts herself  perpendicular to the ground to speed towards it, face first. 

 

Ange doesn’t pull her chute until the last possible second. It snatches her from the air ten feet above the lair’s roof. At two feet, still moving too fast, she twists a pulley and swings herself upwards. It’s enough. Before her feet hit the roof, she shrugs her pack off and eats up the rest of the inertia with a roll. 

 

Her helmet and parachute lay forgotten on the ground as she slips into an air vent. 

 

“Okay Ange, Drakken should be forward one hundred yards and to the right by thirty.” Wade’s voice crackles quietly from the Kimmunicator. The only sound Ange makes is a hum of acknowledgment as she crawls through the chamber. Through a grid vent she crawls over, she can see two burly henchmen walk below her. 

 

That would be a problem. Thankfully, Ange had a few devices that could take people out of a fight… but then what would she do with their unconscious bodies? No, it didn’t matter. If she did this right, they would never know she was in the building. 

 

After crawling one hundred and thirty yards forwards and to the right, she sees the hallways of the lair open into a wide, sterile warehouse. There are more henchmen inside. A man with blue skin is hunched over a steel table, muttering to himself. Most importantly, a woman that Ange recognizes from Kim’s locker door. She’s wearing a black and green catsuit and sitting on a comfortable lounge chair, filing her metal tipped gloves into fine points. Ange scans the layout of the room and continues forward.

 

There’s a row of large cargo boxes stacked on one end of the warehouse. Once she’s certain she’s positioned correctly, Ange uses her carbon laser to slice through the vent and land on the floor with nothing but a whisper. Between her and the large doomsday device in the center of the room are the following: two henchmen with their backs turned on her, Drakken at his table - fidgeting over some kind of device covered in buttons and levers, a concrete pillar that has two sets of cuffs pre-built into it (no doubt for Kim and Ron), and Shego. This was kind of the drama.

 

The two henchmen start to move, turning towards Ange, no doubt about to start a perimeter check. Ange steps backwards and molds into a shadow. From the table Drakken finally starts to speak.

 

“Shego!” He looks up from his device. “Has there been any word yet?”

 

“No, Dr. D,” says Shego. She doesn't look up from filing her gloves. “No world leaders have contacted us since the last time you asked, two minutes ago." Drakken slams his fist into the table. 

 

“Blast!” He glowers up at his doomsday device. Then, his face morphs into a worried frown. “Was it something I said? Shego, was my video intimidating enough? You would tell me if it wasn't, right?” From her chair, Shego rolls her eyes.

 

The henchmen ignore the conversation to have their own. “Hey, check this out.” One of them says. He lifts his arm up to show off a pink and yellow watch. “My kid got me the limited edition SpongeBob and Patrick watch. Took him twenty seven boxes of cereal.”

 

The other one gasps. “Oh man!” He stares at it like it's treasure. “I am so jealous. I've been trying to win one for three months.” The first one - Ange decides to name him Bob and the other Rick - puffs his chest out with pride. Rick juts out his lower lip. “Can I have a closer look? This might be the only time I ever see one in person.”

 

Bob starts unlatching the strap. “Sure, buddy. Just don't drop it.”

 

Rick drops it right in front of Ange’s shadow. 

 

“Oh man,” he says again, but apologetic. “I am so sorry.” Rick reaches down to grab it. On his way up, he catches sight of two chunky red sneakers. 

 

Rick has just enough time to look up at two ice cold eyes before he feels a pinprick on the exposed skin of his chin. He slumps to the floor, but Ange has to guide Bob’s unconscious body down herself so he doesn’t make any noise. Thank goodness Ange’s watch fitted ballistic sleep darts. Ange throws a probing glance at Drakken and Shego and is relieved to find them still where she left them. 

 

“What do you mean you wouldn’t tell me?” Drakken’s voice raises in shrill disbelief. He’s gripping the table like it owes him money. Underneath him, his feet stomp angrily, tippy-tapping out a tantrum. Ange steps into another shadow. “That’s what I pay you for!”

 

“No, no,” Shego shakes her head at him. Ange was quickly getting the impression that Shego always spoke with that sarcastic lilt. “You pay me to steal things, protect your ass, and kick other people’s ass.” She holds up a finger with each bullet point. “Tell me where in my contract it says I have to act as a movie critic. Go on, I’ll wait.” 

 

“I really wish you’d watch your language,” Drakken says, scolding probably the second most dangerous person in the entire world. Right after Kim, of course.

 

The kimmunicator in Ange’s pocket buzzes. Wade had set it so that any messages he sent to her would be silent while she was inside the lair. 

 

I’ve made contact with Kim. She’s 100% 

 

Ange did not, however, set up the same protocols for a text message. Four notes echo through the warehouse. She has just enough time to see that Bonnie has messaged her back.

 

I’m just fine. Are you really out saving the world?

 

Warmth immediately floods through Ange’s veins. It washes away the cold void that has been growing in her chest with soothing relief. All of the weight Ange had been carrying on her shoulders disappears like it hadn’t ever existed.

 

Then, she looks back up.

 

Shego isn’t in her chair anymore.

 

A silhouette drops onto the edge of Ange’s shadow. 

 

Ange follows it to its source, the top of the cargo box she was hiding behind. The first thing she sees is a pair of hands crackling with an electric green plasma. She looks up farther and comes face to face with eyes that flash in the darkness.“Well, hello-” Shego’s gleaming smile falls off of her face. “You’re not Kimmie.”

 

There really was only one logical thing to do in this scenario, wasn’t there. Ange gives Shego a nervous little grin, takes a breath and- 

 

“AAAH!” Ange falls back onto her strengths with a genuinely terrified scream. 

 

She shoots out of the shadow like a rocket, hooks a corner around a cargo box, and makes a beeline for the doomsday device. 

 

Searing heat at her back makes her spring to the left. The floor she had been about to step onto bursts into green light. Ange narrows her eyes, smashes the sole of her sneaker into the floor and wrenches herself to her right. Another blast of plasma splashes into her aborted trajectory. Ange forces her legs to move faster than they ever have in her life as she curves back towards her target. A henchman twice as large as she steps right into her path. Ange reaches out. Her hands grab his uniform in fists and she pulls down with her arms while pushing up with her legs. It lets her execute a jump that sends her smoothly rolling right over the man’s back. Ange lands at speed, closing the distance between her and the machine with each stride. Primal instinct compels her to look over her shoulder. 

 

Behind her, Shego is keeping pace. Ange notices a lot of things at the same exact time. 

 

Shego doesn’t make any noise when she runs, even at a full sprint. It’s a skill Ange was still trying to master. There’s an excited and dangerous grin on Shego’s face, one that shows off white and sharp incisors. Her green eyes track Ange steadily, the way a hawk might stare at a rabbit. 

 

Fear really does quicken perception. 

 

As if in slow motion, Ange watches Shego point a hand behind her own back. Green plasma blasts at the ground with such force that Shego shoots up and over Ange’s head, landing directly in front of her path. In slow motion, Ange realizes she doesn’t have enough time to stop. Even though she knows it’s folly, Ange uses her next step to pivot direction. It lets her dodge out of the way of Shego’s left hook, but it doesn’t save her from Shego grabbing the back of her jacket. Ange jerks to a sudden stop and notices one more thing.

 

Shego is stronger than her.

 

She pulls Ange towards her, right up into the air. Ange’s legs kick uselessly, trying to find purchase. Ange freezes when they are once again, face to face. 

 

Gosh, she’s pretty, is the first thing Ange thinks. The second is, I’m going to die. Shego has features as sharp and svelte and beautiful as a large cat. A panther, maybe. Ange certainly feels like she’s staring directly into the eyes of a predator animal. She can see Shego analyzing her from head to toe.

 

“You’re new,” Shego’s voice drops low. Ange got the feeling that she had caught Shego’s attention. Her legs kick faster than before. “But what are you doing he-”

“Don’t hurt me!” Ange wails. In times like these, it was best to use her favorite strategy. “I’m just a little guy! Please don’t hurt me!” She gives Shego the most pathetic, helpless looking pout she can manage. It makes Shego blink at her in surprise. Black lipstick lips fall open. “I’m like, a baby! You wouldn’t hurt a baby, would you? Oh gosh, I don’t actually know. I’m like- uh-” And yet, no matter how Ange wiggles and squirms, she can’t break free from Shego’s grasp. “-Uh, something harmless that you don’t need to worry about?” Ange lets herself nervously grin. Not her smoothest dismount ever.

 

Though Shego looks unammused, Ange is pleased to note that the razor aggression in Shego’s eyes has melted away. From over Shego’s shoulder, Ange sees Drakken walk towards them.

 

“Shego,” his voice is deep with command. If Ange hadn’t seen him act so self-conscious earlier, she might have even been intimidated by it. “Who is this -” Drakken blinks at Ange. “Little guy? You’re not little at all. Or a guy. Or a baby! That is an awful descriptor.”

 

Shego, for her part, just sighs tiredly. “I’m trying to figure that out myself, Dr. D.” Still holding Ange by the scruff of her jacket, she starts moving towards the concrete pillar. “And where’s Kimmie? She’s supposed to show up to these kinds of things.” 

 

“Tie her up first!” Drakken barks out the order. His eyes are dark lines of suspicion. “Who knows where she’s been, or what she’s up to.”

 

“I’m doing that already! And I’m pretty sure she’s trying to stop us.” Is Shego’s dry reply. Ange lets herself be strapped into the heavy metal cuffs bolted onto the surface of the pillar, hands and feet both. Is this what Kim got into on her missions? Ange studies Shego curiously. Maybe she should try and join more of them. 

 

“She’s busy,” Ange says, testing the strength of the metal. Her body wiggles from one side to the next, but there is no way she’ll be able to loosen herself free. At the hint that Ange might know her, Shego regards her again. “Uhm, trying to win Regionals with the cheerleading squad. I’m her sister.” That gets Shego to slowly look her up and down. Ange grins sheepishly. Ange knew that she and Kim looked nothing alike. Copper hair, blue eyes, brown skin compared to red hair, green eyes, pale skin. Perhaps the only physical similarities between them was their incredible reflexes - though Kim’s were still better by an unnatural amount. “Her half sister.” Ange clarifies. It makes Shego raise a manicured eyebrow. “My name is Angelus, but please, call me Ange. It’s very nice to meet you both.” 

 

“Well, aren’t you a polite young lady.” Shego spits out. The beautiful woman is obviously unimpressed with her, which kind of stings. Ange tries her best to ignore it. Manners maketh man is what her mama had taught her. If she abandoned those principals now… 

 

Ange shivers in her cuffs. She didn’t want to think about it.

 

“I don’t care who you are!” Drakken says, which is honestly just rude. “It won't matter anyway.” Now that he has a captive, he walks back over to his desk to pick up his contraption of levers and buttons. “Once I activate my anti-matter generator, the world will tremble before the raw, awesome power of my intellect! For I am-” Somewhere behind him, a henchman reaches over and presses a button. A bolt of lightning cracks out of a cobbled together tesla coil. “-Dr. Drakken!” 

 

For the first time in Ange’s life, she watches a fully grown man dissolve into maniacal laughter right in front of her. The moment is ruined when Drakken breathes in too quickly, then doubles over in disgustingly wet hacks. Ange shares a glance with Shego. Shego just lets her head fall back on her neck with an exasperated sigh. Then, she walks over and starts patting Drakken on the back. “It’s alright, Dr. D. Let it all out.”

 

A few more coughs, then Drakken straightens out with a pitiful, “Thank you, Shego.” He clears his throat. “Now- what were we talking about-”

 

“Did you say anti-matter generator?” 

 

Two pairs of eyes turn to look at Ange. One green, the other an empty pit of black. 

 

Slowly, Drakken twists his face into a grin of teeth. “Oh yes.” He purrs, rubbing his hands together. “My latest work. Behold!” He dramatically sweeps his arm towards the machine. Something approximately the same shape as a microscope, except large enough that it dwarfs everything else in the room. On the edge of it is a sharp pinprick point that is facing directly at the sky. “With this creation, I will be able to bring the entire world to its knees-”

 

“What are you doing to account for the reality warping?”

 

Two pairs of eyes blink at Ange. Drakken puts his contraption - probably the remote - back onto his desk. “You know about the reality warping?” 

 

“Well, yeah. That’s like, one of the biggest hurdles to building an anti-matter machine. Besides building the anti-matter machine itself, that is.” 

 

“Hm.” Beady eyes stare at Ange. Hanging from her cuffs, Ange stares back expectantly. “I made a machine that creates a reality void between the anti-matter and matter. So that there’s no reality for the anti-matter to warp.” 

 

“So that there’s no reality for the anti-matter to warp!” Ange says at the exact same time. 

 

She can’t help it. Ange squeals, uncontrollably wiggling this way and that in her restraints. “Oh my gosh. Why didn’t I think of that!? MIT is going to feel so stupid!” Ange leans as far forward as she can to catch a better glimpse of the anti-matter generator. She knows her blue eyes are probably sparkling with manic glee as she tries to figure out how all the components of the machine fit together by sight alone. She can't find it in herself to care. “Dr. Drakken, that is absolutely brilliant!” 

 

“It is?” Dr. Drakken says in complete surprise. Then he clears his throat and throws a finger high into the air. “I mean, of course it is! It is one of my finest creations.” 

 

Shego looks back and forth between the two of them, a sudden foreboding in her chest.

Chapter 30: Chapter 30

Notes:

Woohoo, Chapter 30. Unfortunately, I think uploads are gonna slow down. My carpal tunnel is a real pain in the rear.

In a sterile warehouse room, some hundred yards under the Wasatch mountain range in Utah, is a man with blue skin and a bright smile. Surrounding him are several henchmen milling about, an anti-matter generator the size of a metro city bus, a woman in a green and black suit, and most importantly, a teenage girl cuffed to a cold concrete pillar, wibbling and wobbling much like a particularly deranged worm might. Or, like, the recently removed tail of a skink, gecko, or anoles.

 

The point of the matter was that Shego was having a… bad time. This was starting to feel like a very bad time.

 

Like watching a match of tennis, green eyes ping pong from one person to the next. One person called, the other answered. Each answer would only invite another bout of squirming, and each call only strengthened the manic glee in Dr. Drakken’s eyes. 

 

“How do you get enough power to run it?” Ange says.

 

“I made a tantulum pulse capacitor!” Drakken answers. 

 

Ange laughs breathlessly. “That’s insane! Tokyo Tech has been working on making one of those for five years!”

 

“That’s why they call it mad science!” Drakken has left the desk completely. He paces in front of Ange faster and faster, arms gesturing into the air with each word. 

 

“What is the chassis made out of?” Ange says.

 

“Subatomic electro-cermaic nanoweave!” Drakken answers.

 

“Oh my gosh, now that you say it, it’s so obvious!” Ange follows Drakken’s pacing with excited, sparkling eyes. “Where do you vent the excess energy?”

 

“You don’t need to!” Drakken is so excited he starts jumping in place, like a child given free range of a confectionery. Shego continues to watch with a disbelieving, open mouthed gape. “The anti-matter absorbs it, then makes anti-energy! It cancels out.”

 

“It cancels out?! You’ve tested it?” Ange shakes her head with an amused sigh. “Of course you have, you’re a scientist. Can I see the results!? What are the readings like?” 

 

Drakken’s eyes go big with wonder. Is Shego imagining that tear in his eye? No. No she is not. “You want to see my datasets?”

 

“There is literally nothing more in life that I want more - wait- can I see your schematics? Is that okay? I know those can be very personal.” Ange’s shaking slows in her worry. Drakken dismisses it with an excited wave of his hand. He’s already running towards the desk.

 

“Nonsense! These schematics are art, I tell you! Art!” His hands frantically shuffle through the papers strewn upon the desk. The irrelevant ones end up on the floor, until he grabs a poster sized paper into his fist with an “Ah-ha!” He sprints back towards Ange, clutching the paper like treasure. “And art deserves to be viewed by the people who can appreciate it!” 

 

Okay, this was getting out of hand. It probably got out of hand a while ago. Before he can make it back to the pillar, Shego reaches out and grabs the back of Drakken’s lab coat. He comes to a violent halt. 

 

“Hey, Dr. D?” she says, ignoring the confused glare he gives her. Instead, she gives him a lidded, unimpressed sneer. “Do you really think you should be showing your ‘schematics’ to the girl who’s trying to stop us?”

 

“Shego!” He shakes off Shego’s gloved hand. To her confusion, his cheeks flush a deeper blue than normal. “Stop it! You’re embarrassing me in front of her,” he whispers loudly at Shego behind a cupped hand. Shego is pretty certain Ange can hear him, because Ange bites her lip in amusement. “I can show my schematics to whoever I want!” Drakken clears his throat, standing tall. “Because I’m the boss here! And I don’t pay you to ask questions.”

 

No one can say she didn’t try. Shego just gives him one last judging stare, throws a cautious glance at Ange, then saunters back to her lounge chair. 

 

She can hear Drakken scamper back to Ange and the rustle of paper as he starts showing off his designs. Sometimes, Ange ‘oohs’, sometimes she ‘aahs’, every few moments, Shego hears the murmur of a question and Drakken’s excited answer. Shego decides to drown it out by picking up a magazine. It helps her forget that she’s employed by a buffoon - and what that says about her in particular. 

 

For a while, this works. Maybe five or ten minutes, she’s able to relax between the pages of Fashionistas Fusion. There’s a particularly lovely article on the next winter collection that MoMo Camel is set to release in October. Then -

 

Thunk.

 

That is definitely the sound of cuffs being opened back up. Shego jerks her head to the pillar. Ange’s feet are firmly planted on the ground, she’s rubbing at her wrists, and she’s giving Drakken the biggest smile yet. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” Ange says. “This is like, the best day of my life!” 

 

“Oh, but of course!” Dr Drakken gestures towards his desk and the remote that sits atop it. 

 

“Woah, woah, woah!” Shego hops to her feet like lightning. Plasma whispers along the flat of her palms. “What is happening?” She’s pleased to see Ange take a few steps behind Drakken. At least the girl was smart enough to fear her. “Why are you letting her go!?” 

 

“She wants to press a button,” Drakken states.

 

“What,” Shego says, not as a question.

 

“Ange here,” Drakken reaches over and clasps a hand on Ange’s shoulder. He gently pushes her forward towards Shego. Ange gives Shego an awkward smile and a more awkward wave. “Wants to press a button!”

 

Shego questions her life decisions.

 

How quickly can someone go through the five stages of grief? First there’s denial. “There’s no way you’re going to let her press a button.” Drakken nods at her, pointedly. It sends something sinking into Shego’s stomach. Then, there’s anger. “You are not letting her press a button.” That makes Drakken scoff. Once again, he puffs out his chest.

 

“Did I not just say that I was the boss here? I make the decisions, Shego! Not you.” 

 

Shego looks at Drakken, then at Ange - who is once against biting her lip in amusement. She looks back at Drakken. The third stage of grief is bargaining. Shego presses her palms together in front of her and points them at her boss. “Please do not let her press a button,” she says. 

 

Drakken sniffs out his disapproval. “I’m going to let her press a button.” 

 

Depression. Shego feels her shoulders hunch. She looks towards the ceiling of their stupid Utah lair and finally enters the fifth and final step. Acceptance. “Alright, Drakken. Do whatever you want, bossman.”

 

Drakken lets out a little squee. Ange does too. Shego just sinks back in her chair, a broken woman, and watches Ange scuttle over to the desk. “This is so cool!” Ange picks the remote up into the air, looking it over completely. “Oh my gosh, it’s even ergonomic." It makes Drakken puff up like a peacock. 

 

“If there’s one thing about me that you should know, Ange,” he buffs his nails on his chest. A move that would have worked better if he wasn’t wearing thick black gloves. “It is that I am very smart.”

 

Ange gives him a big smile as she presses the big, red, self-destruct button located at the bottom of the remote. Immediately, red lights start flashing around the entire lair. Henchmen start fleeing towards the exit. The building rumbles a little bit, sending dust towards the floor.

 

Drakken looks at Ange. Shego looks at Ange. Ange looks between both Shego and Drakken. Her smile only spreads wider and wider across her face as she sees what she’s done sink into their faces. After a brief pause, Ange opens her mouth.

 

“We should get out of here.”

 

---

 

Ange makes sure she’s the last one there before she leaves. It did mean stopping two henchmen and convincing them to drag Rick and Bob in the sixty seconds they had to flee. They were easily compelled once she mentioned the limited edition Spongebob and Patrick watch at stake. 

 

She sprints down the hallway and leaps out into open air. Her heartbeat thumps in her chest, her limbs feel lightning quick with adrenaline, for the first time since this mission started, Ange feels free of all responsibility. She did it! She actually saved the world. In mid air, she lets out a delighted, “Wa ha ha ha!” Her limbs flail around her until she’s in a better position to land.

 

Even though it’s early fall, snow has accumulated at this elevation. It cushions her rolled landing as the entire mountain rumbles. Ange springs to her feet and turns around just in time to watch the lair explode into brilliant light and color. It’s awe inspiring until she realizes debris is about to rain down on her. Ange digs her heel into the snow and breaks towards the treeline. She doesn’t stop running until she happens to come across two familiar figures in a clearing. Shego and Drakken, in the middle of a good scolding.

 

“What did we learn?” Shego says calmly. Despite her tone, she’s got Drakken by the collar. Her hands are steaming in the below freezing air. 

 

“N-Not to let the captive free?” Drakken says hopefully. He lets out a sigh of relief when Shego lets him go. He got the right answer in one. A new record.

 

“Hi guys,” Ange says, stuttering her steps until she comes to a complete halt. Her eyes are as wild as the smile on her face. “That was so cool. Oh my gosh, we have to do that aga- AAAH!” She hits the ground just in time to miss a bolt of plasma. A tree explodes behind her. “Wait- WAIT!” On all fours, Ange scurries back towards the trees. “Stop it! Don’t hurt me! I’m a little guy!”

 

“No you aren’t!” Shego yells. Rage makes her entire body heat. The snow at her feet starts to melt in dramatic puffs of steam that cover her form like bars on a cage. “You are DEAD, that's what you are!” Her eyes scan the trees - Begrudgingly, a part of her respects how Ange had disappeared so quickly.

 

“Why?! I already stopped you!” Ange’s voice calls out from the shadows. “We don’t have a reason to fight anymore.”

 

Shego picks the direction she hears Ange from and throws out a large blast of green. The trees instantly catch fire. “I am not going to jail today, Brainiac! Which means turning you to ash.” To her annoyance, she gets a response.

 

“Jail? I’m not going to send you to jail,” Ange’s voice says.

 

Shego pauses in surprise, and even Drakken perks up. “You aren’t?” Shego asks with disbelief.

 

Cautiously, Ange pokes her head out from behind a tree several yards away from the dying forest fire. It was too cold to spread, thankfully. Once she’s certain Shego isn’t going to burn her, she steps out completely.

 

“Well, let's run through how that would go.” Ange takes a few careful steps towards them, eyeing Shego more than Drakken. “I would throw the very first punch of my life, and miss.” Ange points a finger at Shego. “And then you would make me swallow approximately five of six of my front teeth,” she finishes with a rueful shake of her head. 

 

Shego allows herself to chuckle once. “Yeah, probably.”

 

Ange walks up to Drakken and reaches out to grab his hand. She gives it several shakes and him a delighted smile. Drakken goes from looking forlorn and properly scolded to wide eyed as he regards her. “It was really an honor to meet you, Dr Drakken.” Drakken looks at her like he doesn’t know what’s going on. Good.

 

“It-it was?”

 

“Oh yes. I think you might be one of the smartest people I’ve ever met.” Maybe not in terms of common sense, but Ange wasn’t going to tell him that. She watches the life return to his eyes.

 

“I am? Of course I am.” He shoots Shego a smug little look. Shego starts massaging her temples. “It’s certainly nice to get that acknowledged, however.” 

 

What Ange says next isn’t technically a lie. “Kim’s Regionals are really important to her.” She lets go of his hands to put her own behind her back. For good measure, she digs her toe into the ground. “Could you pretty please hold off on any world domination plans for about a week?”

 

Thankfully, Drakken doesn’t even need to think about it.

 

---

 

Drakken watches the helicopter take off into the air. Unfortunately, that nice young woman goes with it. When she pops her head over the side and gives him an excited wave, he can’t suppress the pleased “Mmgn!” He waves back with gusto, hopping from one foot to the other. Once Ange is gone, he finally looks away.

 

Shego is staring at him. The unimpressed look she gives him is nothing new, but still a little hurtful. 

 

“So,” Shego gives him an expectant, large eyed stare. “What do you want me to steal next?”

 

Drakken gasps. “Shego!” He says, scandalized. “We just promised Ange we wouldn’t commit any acts of villainy for a week.” Who could say no to such a sweet girl, anyway. Especially one that could recognize his vast genius. 

 

“Oh, I thought you were lying to her.” Shego says. Drakken gives another more scandalized gasp. In return, Shego leans her hip to the side and rests her clawed fingers into the dip of her waist. “Since, we’re villains.” She reminds him. Lying is kind of what villains did.

 

The reminder only makes his brows furrow towards his beady, dark eyes. “I’m a villain, Shego. Not a fabulist!” Honestly, it’s like she didn’t respect him, sometimes. To his satisfaction, he watches Shego sigh. The aggression visibly melts from her form.

 

“Alright, doc.” Shego starts walking into the treeline. “I’m taking a week-long vacation.” Drakken decides to allow it because it wouldn’t make sense to keep her around for the week. And he probably couldn’t stop her.

 

“Have a lovely time.” Drakken calls out after her as she disappears into the treeline. She doesn’t answer him. Suddenly, it’s just him, the trees, and the cold, cold snow. Drakken feels a shiver run down his spine. “Oh, wait, what about me?” The hum of the only surviving hover ship powers on. “...Shego?” Drakken watches it fly off over the treeline. 

 

Drakken looks around at the desolate landscape. Somewhere in the distance, there’s a birdsong. It’s the only sound he hears, besides the wind starting to pick up through the trees.

---

 

The bus pulls into the Middleton High parking lot at approximately six in the afternoon. Eight cheerleaders, one mascot, and a very underpaid substitute teacher clamber off in utter relief. At this time on a Friday afternoon, the only people on campus are the parents of said cheerleaders waiting in idling cars. Several get out to hug their little girls. Bonnie sees a few of them - her girls and their parents - start crying. Normally, she would roll her eyes at the dramatics, but…

 

Yeah, this time it was that bad.

 

She looks around the lot. No car is idling for her. Her parents are probably off on vacation again. Bonnie tugs the strap of her duffel tighter onto her shoulder and sighs. Middleton was several degrees cooler than Camp Wannaweep and her only good coat had been covered in fish goo. It was going to be an uncomfortable walk.

 

“Angelus James Kostrama Possible!” Bonnie hears Kim say. It makes her let out a little noise of surprise. She didn’t know that was Ange’s full name. Bonnie turns around in time to see Kim stomp over to Ange, who is leaning against the same light pole as Monday. Idly, Bonnie notices that Kim and Ron’s parents aren’t waiting for them either. At least Ron had his shitty scooter to get home on. He’d left it unlocked by the bike rack. It doesn’t surprise Bonnie that no one wanted to steal it.

 

“Kim!” Ange pushes off from the pole with a beaming smile. Either she doesn’t realize how apocalyptic Kim is, or she’s ignoring it. “I missed you so much!” 

 

Something in Bonnie’s chest starts to hurt. 

 

Ange pulls Kim into a hug that lifts Kim completely from the ground. Even as Kim starts to yell, Ange spins them around. “How could you go after Drakken and Shego?!” Kim snarls at her sister, feet dangling in circles off the ground. “Don’t you realize how dangerous Shego is?”

 

“Oh, yeah.” Eventually, Ange sets her favorite sibling back onto solid ground. Kim, having been glaring at Ange the entire time, places her fists on each hip and starts to look a little intimidating. “Shego’s scary. How do you deal with that?” Finally, Ange leans down and plants a sweet kiss on Kim’s cheek.

 

“Well, I just kind of do.” Kim breaks. With ruddy cheeks and a softening glare, she tentatively reaches out and clutches at Ange’s sleeve. Bonnie notices that Ange is wearing a large, white pullover hoodie that looks particularly soft. “I’m glad you’re okay. Please don’t go after the bigger villains without me next time.” The cuteness in Kim’s tone makes Ange coo. 

 

“Sure, sis.” It makes Kim sag with relief. “Can I go on your search and rescue missions too?” 

 

The smile that breaks out on Kim’s face could power a city. The pang in Bonnie’s chest grows too strong to ignore. She turns around and starts her long trek home. 

 

Chapter 31: Chapter 31

Notes:

Me: I'm gonna cool it on updates
also me: have another

Bonnie makes it about thirty feet before Ange calls her name. Her voice is closer than anticipated, and Bonnie is startled to find Ange only a yard or two behind her when she turns around. When had Ange started to move without noise? Yet there Ange is, walking her bike in both hands behind Bonnie with a beaming smile. Bonnie matches it with a scowl, but she still stops in place and lets Ange catch up to her. 

 

“What do you want, Possible?” Her tone is as sharp as a blade. Ange’s excited smile melts into something gentler as she analyzes Bonnie. Bonnie makes sure to keep herself obsidian smooth under the scrutiny. 

 

Two can play this game. She looks Ange up and down, taking her in. Her hair is up in a messy ponytail. It doesn’t look bad, but it could be better. A large, comfortable white hoodie that looks incredibly soft drapes against Ange’s frame. The scrapes on Ange’s hands are back, fresh red against brown. That was a bit worrying. To Bonnie’s annoyance, Ange is wearing the black joggers she had gotten last Saturday at Club Banana. Bonnie ignores how well they highlight the length of Ange’s legs. She got on chunky blue sneakers this time, at least there’s some kind of variety. When she looks back up, she comes face to face with two warm blue eyes waiting patiently for her.

 

Once her attention is on Ange’s face again, Ange speaks. “I missed you,” she says softly. It sounds like she means it, too. Then, Ange reaches out and encircles Bonnie’s waist with one arm. She easily pulls Bonnie against her side, muffling the sudden catch in Bonnie’s throat with a shoulder. Bonnie’s world is enveloped in a subtle chocolate spicy scent. It takes her a moment, but she eventually decides to wrap both of her arms around Ange’s torso.

 

It’s warm.

 

“Maybe I missed you too,” Bonnie finally manages to say. She’s hoping Ange can’t hear her. A silent laugh makes Ange’s frame shake against her. Damn.

 

“I’ll take what I can get,” Ange says. She pulls back first in order to tidy a stray lock of Bonnie’s hair. “I’m sorry you couldn’t make it to Regionals. Did a mutant fish guy really goo you?”

 

Turquoise eyes give Ange an unimpressed stare. “Dont phrase it like that,” Bonnie says, watching as Ange tugs at the strap of her duffel bag. Bonnie allows the silent request, and Ange temporarily rests it on the seat of her dented up mountain bike. “It’s whatever.” Disappointment tinges Bonnie’s tone. “We’ll make it next year, anyway. The worst part was honestly the camp itself. I bet I still smell like swamp.”

 

“No, you smell really nice.” Ange says lightly. Bonnie looks at Ange until her cheeks go red. “W-what? I’m just telling the truth!” Ange tugs the collar of her warm looking sweater. Bonnie shivers a little in the fall air. “Is that weird? I don’t know what’s weird yet. You haven’t taught me,” she points out with an air of finality. “Since you were too busy getting covered in fish goo at Camp Wannaweep. Which, in my opinion, sounds way weirder.”

 

“OMG, Ange.” Bonnie reaches over to flick her shoulder. “You are such a freak.” Puffs of laughter sap the sting out of her words. “Give me your hoodie.” 

 

It was certainly interesting how Ange doesn’t even seem to think about it before she moves. She pops open the kickstand of her bike so both hands are free to tug her sweater up over her head. Bonnie sees something else interesting too. When Ange places her hoodie into Bonnie’s hands - Bonnie needs to schedule another spa appointment, They were looking a little rough, one of her nails was even chipped - Bonnie quickly slides into it. She lets out a satisfied sigh. It was as soft and warm and big as she anticipated. 

 

If it smells nice, well, she isn’t going to say anything. She’s not a freak.

 

Time to test her theory. “Lift your shirt for me,” Bonnie says, waiting expectantly. As anticipated, Ange hooks her fingers under the bottom of her fitted t-shirt and pulls it upwards. To her credit, she does look at Bonnie in confusion.

 

“Is there something wrong?”

 

Bonnie’s smirking eyes go from staring at Ange’s face from under her lashes to Ange’s newly exposed stomach. “No, nothing,” She says, wondering how many more commands she can give to Ange before Ange catches on. Instead, Bonnie reaches over to trace a fingertip down the warm plane of Ange’s developing abdominals. They instantly flex rigid with surprise under her touch. “You should keep up your workout routine. It’s doing wonders.”

 

Ange lets out some kind of strangled noise deep from her throat. She was definitely not used to being touched, Bonnie concludes. Bonnie looks up in time to see Ange collecting herself. The vestige of an emotion she doesn’t have enough time to recognize fades out of Ange’s dark blue eyes. “Yeah, sure,” Ange says quickly. “The Bonnie approved workout is a go.” Maybe Ange was getting cold. Her cheeks were an odd shade of red. Bonnie still wasn’t going to give her the hoodie back, though. 

 

“Uhm,” Ange clears her throat then gestures to the rack atop her back bike wheel. “Do you want a ride home?” 

 

“You’re not taking Kim back?” Bonnie looks around the parking lot. To her surprise, no one is there anymore. It’s just the two of them on an empty expanse of cold cement.

 

“She said she was going to stop by Bueno Nacho first. Something, something, Ron needs his fix.” Ange pulls a face, but her tone is amused. “I think that guy has nacho cheese for blood.” Bonnie hums out her agreement. Ron was probably eighty percent inauthentic Mexican food. She sees him sitting in a booth literally every time she decides to go. 

 

Bonnie looks at Ange’s mountain bike. Flaking and scratched up red paint, with dents along the frame, if it were anyone else she would have refused immediately. Normally, there was no way she would be caught dead on such a shitty vehicle. Normally. 

 

She looks back up at Ange’s face. Deep, warm eyes peeking out from messy copper bangs, a long curved nose, balanced lips pulled into an expectant smile. What was it about her that made Ange look at her so carefully? No matter how much she thinks, she can’t find a satisfactory answer. It would be an interesting mystery for her to figure out, Bonnie muses. One for another time. Instead, she gives Ange a haughty sigh. 

 

“Alright, Possible. If you insist, I’ll take you up on it,” Bonnie says it like she’s the one doing Ange a favor. Ange grins and hooks Bonnie’s duffel over her shoulder. A long leg swings over the chassis. The kickstand closes with a small click. Finally, she nudges her head at the rack.

 

“Hold on, kay?” Bonnie arranges herself daintily on the surface. It’s not the most comfortable seat in the world. She wraps an arm around Ange’s warm stomach for balance and decides to let it slide this one time. Ange pushes off the ground. The wind catches in their hair as they gain speed, cool and refreshing now that she’s wearing a proper sweater. Bonnie watches the sunset start to paint dramatic clouds a fiery orange and doesn’t notice the content smile that settles on her perfect, cherry glossed lips.

 

---

 

A deep rumble greets Ange and her passenger as she pulls up to the Rockwaller household. As she cruises her bike to a gentle halt, she sees what’s responsible for such a noise. Brick Flagg is waiting for them from the driveway. His large Harley motorcycle is idling underneath him and he has a dopey smile on his face. Ange’s smile slides from her own.

 

She can see the moment he spots them. He turns the motorbike off with a twist of his key, plunging the neighborhood in silence. Brick lights up the way a puppy might and he hops off of his vehicle, also the way a puppy might. He recovers from his little stumble with a cool flick of his hair. Ange can also feel the moment Bonnie catches sight of him, because her hand flexes tense against Ange’s shirt for just a brief moment. It’s a movement that makes Ange’s hackles raise protectively.

 

Despite it, Bonnie still slides off of the bike rack, leaving Ange’s stomach feeling cold and empty. She watches as Bonnie lets out a pleased little squeal and takes a running jump into Brick’s massive arms. He catches her easily, spinning them around once. The sudden, dark snarl that threatens to rip out of Ange’s throat surprises her. Where had that come from? She falls back on old habits and smooths her face into an unreadable smile. Ange pops her kickstand open and unhooks her leg from her bike, all while keeping her eyes trained on the apparent couple reuniting on Bonnie’s front yard. 

 

“Bonnie!” Brick says with a laugh. “It’s been forever.” Finally, he sets Bonnie onto her feet. Ange wonders why she feels like she’s a caged dog, baring teeth but unable to hunt. The smile on Bonnie’s face, bright and wide, sends something cold running down Ange’s spine. She’s never smiled at Ange like that.

 

‘Oh, Brick,” Bonnie sighs. “Camp Wannaweep was awful. Some fish guy kidnapped us!”

 

“Woah, I didn’t know fish slept,” Brick says. Bonnie and Ange blink simultaneously at him. “Don’t they have to swim all the time?” Ange looks at Bonnie with wide, confused eyes. Bonnie glances her way, then looks back at Brick with a slightly more strained smile. 

 

“Brick, sweetie, that’s not what I meant.” When Brick gives her big eyed stare, Bonnie decides to move the subject along. “It’s nice to see you, though.” That brings that dopey grin back onto Brick’s face. “What brings you around?”

 

“I know we aren’t like, official yet,” he runs his hand shyly through his thick blonde hair. Ange begrudgingly admits that Brick was quite handsome, if you were into stupid men (apparently, Bonnie was). “Buuut, I was able to get a reservation at, uh, La Chaty, that I wanted to surprise you with.” Brick gets another begrudging point in his favor. For some reason, Ange had been hoping he was unlikable. Guilt makes her chew on her lower lip. Le Chateau is a very nice restaurant on the nicest side of Middleton. Getting a reservation there was harder than it looked. 

 

Bonnie lets out a genuine squeal of excitement, once again jumping into Brick’s arms. Ange lets out a sigh of defeat, and refuses to analyze why. Instead, she unhooks Bonnie’s duffel bag from her shoulder and starts walking up to the couple. “I hate-” Ange freezes, then immediately adds more warmth into her voice. “-to ruin the moment.” The two break apart to look at her. Brick has a grin on his face. Bonnie is watching her. Ange makes sure to give her a pleased smile, then hands the duffel to her. “Just stay safe out there, alright?” Bonnie takes the strap in her beautiful hands, but her turquoise eyes are trained on Ange’s face. 

 

“No problem!” In a surprising move, Brick pats Ange on her shoulder. “Thanks for bringing Bonnie home in one piece, Ange. I owe you one.” 

 

Ange looks him in the eye and grins. She’s careful not to show too many teeth. “That’s what friends are for.” Ange turns to leave when Bonnie reaches out and grabs her hand. It makes Ange go still before she turns her attention towards the girl. Her eyes are deliberately soft.

 

“Let's meet up tomorrow,” Bonnie says with a satisfied gleam in her voice. She’s smiling too. “The mall, nine in the morning, Club Banana.” Damn, Ange had been hoping to sleep in. “I still need to choose more outfits for you.” For the second time that night, Ange lets out another defeated sigh. Saying no isn’t even a thought that crosses her mind. Besides, she does owe Bonnie.

 

“Go easy on me?” Ange tries her best to widen her eyes. From the look on Bonnie’s face, it doesn’t work. Kim was better at the puppy dog pout than she was, anyway.

“Not in a million years, Angie.” Bonnie grins up at Ange, and Ange gets the feeling Bonnie isn’t bothering to hide her teeth. It makes Ange smile and roll her eyes. 

 

“Have fun, Bonnie,” is what Ange manages to say. She motions back towards her own shitty bike. “I’m gonna head home.” She pulls her hand out of Bonnie’s gentle grip and turns around. Then, and only then, does she let the smile drop off of her face. Without her sweater, the ride home is as cold as it is dark.

Chapter 32: Chapter 32

Notes:

I had a bit of trouble with this chapter. I think I rewrote it three times.

“-And then I almost ripped his face off.” Ange was in her attic, sitting on Kim’s bottom bunk. Kim was next to her, resting the back of her head on Ange’s thigh. A magazine lay forgotten on her bare midriff as she listened to her younger sister. Idly, Ange ran her fingers through Kim’s red hair, but her face was twisted up in frustration. She knew Kim enjoyed that kind of attention. “I don’t get it. All he did was hug her.”

 

Kim lets out little noise, analyzing Ange faster than Ange herself - for once. “It sounds like you got jealous.” She says diplomatically. It only makes the frustration on Ange’s face mold into something more confused, and maybe a little worried.

 

“But, why?” Ange says, cheeks puffing out in one big whoosh. It takes a few seconds of being subjected to Kim’s narrowed eyed stare before Ange starts fidgeting uncomfortably. “W-what? What is it?” 

 

That makes Kim blink. She pushes herself onto her knees, leaning in to observe Ange’s face at a closer angle. “...Wow, you don’t realize it.” 

 

“What? I don’t realize what?” Ange shrinks away, suddenly shy. That feeling just confuses Ange even more. Usually she was so much better at keeping herself in check. Compounding on her helpless feelings, Kim starts giggling at her, which is really just rude. Kim’s shoulders shake up and down with each gasp.

 

“Angie,” was Ange imagining the slight lilt of tease in Kim’s voice? No. The way Kim starts smirking at her confirms it, and also makes Ange pout. “You like her.”

 

“Of course I like her. She’s my friend.” For some reason, that triggers another bout of giggling from Kim. Normally Ange enjoys it when Kim laughs.

 

“No, Ange, you like her. As in, a crush.” 

 

It makes Ange’s mouth drop open in surprise. Blue eyes go wide as Ange quietly digests that revelation. Then, she lets out a little snort of amusement. “Kim,” Ange says, shaking her head dismissively. “Don’t be silly. Just because I like girls doesn’t mean I like my first girl friend-” Her tone quickens at her slip up. “Friend who is a girl! She is my friend who is a girl.” She says with an air of finality.

 

Ange can only give a deadpan sigh when Kim has to lay down to catch her breath. “No, Angie. Like, don’t you think she’s pretty?” Which is honestly just a stupid question to ask.

 

“So what? I think plenty of girls are pretty. That doesn’t mean I have a crush on them.” Ange gestures towards Kim with both of her hands. “I think you’re very beautiful, for instance.” Her attempt to distract Kim works, if only temporarily. Kim leans over and gives Ange a sweet kiss onto a warm cheek.

 

“You’re pretty, too,” Kim says. Ange gives a grin as wide as a cheshire. “And in denial.” It falls off of her face.

 

“So not!” Ange says.

 

“So are!” Kim says.

 

“So not!” Ange says, reaching behind her for Kim’s pillow.

 

“So ar- OOMPH!” Kim says, taking a cushiony blow to the face. Instinct and lightning fast reflexes take over. Kim rolls with the strike right onto her feet, then hops into the air high enough to grab Ange’s own pillow from the top bunk. “Oh, Angie.” Her feet hit the ground without a noise. “You’re crushing hard.” Ange pushes off the bed with her legs, clutching Kim’s pilfered pillow against her chest like a shield. “And I’m going to convince you,” The two siblings square off. A modern day Mexican standoff. “Even if I have to beat it into you.”

 

---

 

Another Saturday, another trip to the mall, another ungodly early morning hour. Nine in the morning should never exist. If Ange had her way, society would start their day at three in the afternoon. Yet, here she was, trudging her way into the tranquil plaza that was the early morning Middleton mall. The things she did for her friends - and Bonnie was her friend, no matter how much Kim insisted otherwise.

 

Ange lets out a desolate sigh. She had really loved her pillow.

 

Club Banana came closer with each step. Ange could smell the new clothes scent from outside of the store. New clothes and a gentle undertone of floral and spice. Her stomach does a pleasant flip when her eyes lock onto Bonnie, who is busy texting on her phone. A teal three quarter sleeve jacket, a white tank-top, and a matching white skirt that stops just above her mid-thigh. It was a lovely outfit.

 

Ange stood by her opinion from last night. Bonnie is very pretty.

 

“Hi, Bonnie,” Ange says. When Bonnie flinches, Ange makes a mental note to walk louder around her. “Good morning. Did you have a good time at Le Chateau last night?” Ange didn’t really want to hear about it, but it would be impolite to ask. Bonnie slips her phone away and gives Ange a once over.

 

“It was just fine,” Bonnie says, nodding in satisfaction. This morning, Ange had put on the bowknot pants and sleeveless blouse they'd gotten together before Camp Wannaweep. She was still figuring out how to navigate the pumps. The outfit wasn’t exactly her, though it fit better than she’d anticipated. “But let's not stray from the subject.” Bonnie slides one of her slender arms around the crook of Ange’s elbow. “I still haven’t had my way with you.”

 

As Bonnie drags her into Club Banana, Ange tries her best to think innocent thoughts.

 

Monique sees them when they enter. Bonnie is too busy dragging Ange towards the vast women’s section to notice how Monique points her face to the ceiling and sighs. Ange gives her a sheepish smile and a little wave as they pass by. Thankfully, Monique likes her enough to give her a wave back, even if it looks like an unhappy one. 

 

When Ange turns her attention back to Bonnie, a chill runs down her spine. A slender finger taps against Bonnie’s chin as her turquoise eyes scan a large array of skirts. Some of them are long, others are so short Ange wonders how they’re even legal to sell. All of them are garments she hasn’t worn since she was five, back when her parents still dressed her up.

 

“Uh, Bonnie?” Ange has to clear her throat to hide the nervous crack in her voice. She can tell it isn’t good enough, because Bonnie slides her eyes over to observe Ange without moving her head. Ange gives her a most normal smile. “Do you, er, we have to start in this section?” Ange sweeps her free arm towards the miles and miles of non-skirt related women’s clothing that graces the racks of Club Banana. “When there’s so much more to explore.”

 

To her horror, she’s managed to catch all of Bonnie’s attention. She turns her entire body to look at Ange. The hint of a smirk flirts onto Bonnie’s mouth. “Sure we can, Angie.” Bonnie says, voice as light as air. “I mean, if you’re fine reneging on me. I think I see Monique over there and I really feel like her choice to wear that top with those shorts is really… inspired.” 

 

“I get it,” Ange says. Somehow, Bonnie always had her on the back foot… No, best not to lie to herself. Ange just didn’t bother getting out of that position. “I’m your living dress up doll. Also, I think Monique looks wonderful in her outfit.”

 

Bonnie rolls her eyes. Of course she did, but Bonnie had needed to prove a point. She takes a few choice skirts from the rack and shoves them into Ange’s chest. “Just be good and carry the merchandise, Possible.”

 

---

 

“Hey, Bonnie?” Ange says, unsure. Bonnie looks up from her magazine to the changing room door. They were on outfit number six, and each one had drained a little of the light out of Ange’s blue eyes. She was such a drama queen. 

 

“Can you help me with a zipper?” 

 

Bonnie gets to her feet, exasperated. Only Possible could mess up putting on a dress. “Open up.” She slips into the little opening Ange makes for her.

 

In Ange’s defense, Club Banana had placed the tag unfortunately close to the zipper of the tie-waist blue floral dress Bonnie had picked out for her. 

 

The changing room is meant for one person. With two, it’s cramped and a little claustrophobic. Inside, Ange has her back to her, but through the mirror on the wall, turquoise and blue eyes lock gazes. It sends a small and confusing current through Bonnie’s chest. She swallows past a dry throat and looks away first. The sight she lands on is even more distracting. Slender, dense muscles ripple underneath the brown skin of Ange’s back every time she breathes. Heat radiates off of Ange’s body in waves. Ange’s scent settles as an intoxicating cloud over Bonnie’s mind. Why was it intoxicating?  

 

To serve as a distraction Bonnie fishes the tag out from the zipper and pulls the tab upwards. If her nail drags curiously along Ange’s spine, it’s purely by accident. She was trying to get Ange used to more touching anyway. 

 

By the way Ange strands ramrod straight, it doesn’t seem to be working. Baby steps. 

 

The tab hits the top of the dress, bringing the two pieces together. Suddenly, it’s pin-drop quiet. The electric hum of the overhead lights is all that Bonnie can hear. That, her own heartbeat, and Ange’s slightly erratic breathing. Very interesting. Bonnie has to clear her throat before she can trust her voice. The sudden noise prompts Ange to roll her shoulders in a way that has Bonnie admiring the flex of her back. “Show me,” Bonnie manages to say. She ignores how low her voice has dropped, and hopes that Ange does too. 

 

Thankfully, Ange doesn’t say anything. She turns to face Bonnie with a smooth and unreadably neutral smile on her face. Bonnie still notices the slight redness painting each of Ange’s ears. Bonnie grins up at her. “Not bad, Possible.” 

 

She had chosen a dress that was thigh length on purpose. It hadn’t escaped her how long and well shaped Ange’s legs were. Since it was such a crime to keep them hidden, most of the outfits Bonnie had picked out highlighted them instead. 

 

Bonnie slaps Ange’s hand away from tugging at the hem of her dress. “Stop that. You look great.”

 

“You think so?” Ange sounds so hopeful it’s actually a little pitiful.

 

“Ange, I don’t hang out with ugly people.” Bonnie says, hoping to build a little self-esteem in the girl. Judging from the bright smile that Ange gives her, it works. Then Ange has to go and open her mouth.

 

“Well, I think everyone is beautiful in their own way.” 

 

“Don’t ruin the moment, Possible.”

 

---

 

When they approach the counter, Monique is giving Bonnie a suspicious and stiff frown. It makes Bonnie stop short, then shoot a withering look at Ange. “How am I supposed to be nice to someone who’s looking at me like that?” Bonnie says, crossing one arm over the other. Setting the massive pile of clothes from her own arms down onto the counter, Ange just gives Bonnie an indulgent look.

 

“Hi Monique,” She says, fixing Monique with her friendliest smile. “It’s nice to see you. How’s your morning going? “ It gets Monique to stop frowning at Bonnie like that and look at her instead. That counts as a win in her book.

 

“Hey, Ange.” Monique seems to be catching on, because the polite smile on her face is more like an amused grin. “I’m doing great, girl. Thanks for asking.” As Monique speaks, she starts scanning in the cosmic amount of clothes presented to her. “I hope your weekend is going real smooth.”

 

“It’s just peachy.” Between the beeps, Ange turns an expectant gaze at Bonnie. Bonnie cocks her hip out onto her back foot and promptly loses the staring contest Ange starts with her.

 

“Augh,” She sniffs, examining her nails with disinterest. “Like, hi Monique. I’m glad you’re having a swell weekend.” Bonnie says, and gives herself a pat on the back for only sounding half as sarcastic as she feels. When she looks back up, Ange has raised an eyebrow at her. It makes Bonnie’s hands itch to grab a tweezer and go at them. Ange really didn’t care about her appearance (she was lucky that she was naturally pretty). “Seriously?” Bonnie finally says. When Ange nods at her, Bonnie stomps one of her feet to the floor. Whatever. “I guess it’s nice to see you too.”

 

Ange snickers. Monique bites her lip. “Likewise, I guess.”

 

Ange stops snickering when Bonnie turns murderous eyes towards her. Quickly, Bonnie reaches out to grab the last thing Monique has scanned through. “This one,” Bonnie says. The fear on Ange’s face brings a wicked smile to her face. “You’re wearing this one to school on Monday.”

Chapter 33: Chapter 33

It’s forty-five minutes before school starts and Ange is still trying to forget the way Kim’s jaw had dropped when Ange had walked past her at the kitchen table. Ange was also trying to ignore the feeling of air on her bare legs, but that would be a constant reminder throughout the day (so a bit more of a challenging task). Maybe she should just accept it instead. Ange walks through the heavy double doors of the gymnasium with a little sigh. The things she did for her friends. 

 

Bonnie is inside already, back facing her. She must have gotten bored waiting, because she has her legs splayed wide against the floor in a deep side split. Her front presses perfectly flat against the wood floor, a display of flexibility that Ange hasn’t mastered yet. Ballerinas were something else. Since there’s practice after school today, Bonnie has her signature purple cheer skirt on, which makes Ange feel a little better about her own outfit. Bonnie is also wearing the soft white hoodie Ange had lent her Friday. There is some baser level of satisfaction Ange gets from it - and it definitely doesn’t mean she likes Bonnie.

 

Ange makes her next step deliberately loud. Bonnie twists her torso ninety degrees to her right to look at her. The smirk that breaks out on Bonnie’s face makes rabbit fear pluck at her heart rate. Bonnie must be able to sense it, because she takes extra long to look Ange up and down today. The attention forces a shiver along her spine. 

 

“I knew it would fit you,” Bonnie finally says. Ange can see the tip of a white canine dig into Bonnie’s lower lip. It presses a little harder when Bonnie’s gaze finally lands on her shoes. “You aren’t wearing the heels.” Bonnie bristles. Ange scratches the back of her neck sheepishly.

 

“Uh, I wasn’t brave enough to walk to school in them.” Ange kicks off her chunky blue sneakers (the red ones were for her missions now). “They’re right here,” Ange pulls her backpack off and fishes out the pair of four inch stilettos she’d stored at the top. White, to match the fitted long sleeve blouse Bonnie had chosen for her.

 

That mollifies Bonnie. She pulls herself out of her stretch and onto her feet with a dancing elegance even Kim doesn’t have. A manicured eyebrow cocks upwards. “What is it?” 

 

“Hmm-” Ange mumbles, then realizes she’s staring. “Just- er… Wondering what you’re going to make me look like.” Phew, that was close.

 

To keep herself distracted, Ange scans the room. Bonnie’s bag is propped against one of the metal bleachers, half open. She can see the handle of a hairbrush poking out of the top. A slender finger enters her line of vision, pointing at it. “Sit,” Bonnie says. Ange makes her way over to the bleachers, then tucks her skirt underneath her as she sits. A move she’s seen Bonnie do dozens of times now. The metal is cool where it presses up against her thighs. “I’m going to make you fucking irresistible.” Bonnie follows her, kneeling to rummage through her pack.

 

Turquoise eyes are already rolling when Ange murmurs her dutiful reminder. “Language.”

 

“Get a new catchphrase, Ange.” Bonnie pulls out several shades of... well, Ange knows for certain it’s makeup at least, and starts to compare them against Ange’s face. “That one is so three decades ago.” 

 

“You could stop cussing,” Ange grins at Bonnie’s unamused huff. “Or we could both live with each other and our faults.” 

 

The thought process behind Bonnie’s decision is a mystery to Ange. She picks out a particular tube and grabs a big fluffy brush. “Maybe you have faults.” Bonnie’s haughty tone is comforting in its familiarity at this point. She leans her entire torso closer to Ange, until their faces are only a few inches apart. Perfume floats a cloud into Ange’s mind. At this distance, Ange can see little flecks of both hazel and ice white in Bonnie’s irises. “I’m actually perfect,” says Bonnie’s perfect lips. Ange nods in agreement, and gets a flick to her shoulder. “Stop moving, dork.” 

 

Ange sticks out her tongue instead.

 

A hand falls flat on the inside of Ange’s shoulder and pushes. It takes a moment before Ange decides to let Bonnie press her backwards into the bleacher seat. Narrowed turquoise eyes pin her in place as Bonnie clambers onto Ange’s lap. It makes Ange’s heart do a little Yippieeee, even as Ange tries to figure out what’s going on. Warm thighs on warm thighs on a cold metal seat. 

 

“If you don’t behave,” Bonnie’s voice grinds out of her throat as she reaches for something else in her backpack. Ange isn’t really paying attention to it anymore. “I’m going to make you look fucking awful instead.” Bonnie’s weight feels perfect pressing on her lap. 

 

“...I really don’t think you will,” Ange murmurs, trying to keep up. “If you do my makeup badly, how will the school react when I tell them you did this to me-” Bonnie reaches down and starts plucking at the errant hairs of Ange’s eyebrows. “-OW! Hey!” It makes Bonnie’s lips curl into a fox-grin.

 

“A good point…” The way Ange twitches underneath her with each tug only adds to Bonnie’s satisfaction. Keep the natural curve, take out the excess. Eyebrows were tricky. One hair could make or break them. Bonnie lets her voice fall into something light and purring. “But do you really want to test someone who has your eyebrows at their mercy, Angie?” It makes Ange quiver.

 

“I’ll be good,” Ange finally chokes out. No one could say she wasn’t smart.

 

---

Mondays were always miserable affairs at Middleton high. Especially Monday mornings, which signaled the start of the five day long slog leading to the best part of the week - Friday afternoon. Even Donavan couldn’t find the joy in it, as much as he enjoyed learning all things STEM as a whole. Unlike Angelus, he had to look over his shoulders in these halls. Someone might push him into a locker and latch the door behind him.

 

Those things were cold and dark.

 

Donavan feels a little ache in his chest at the thought of Angelus. She was such a warm and sweet girl. It should have been obvious that he would eventually develop… feelings for her. Yet, it was somehow as much of a surprise to him as it was to her. It should have been obvious that she would reject him, too. As much as she denied it, they both knew that she was way out of his league. If she wanted to, she could find a better friend (or lover) than him easily. 

 

But she always kept coming back to his locker in the mornings. And for some reason, she tolerated him seeking her out at her locker too. Donavan hadn’t stood a chance against it. 

 

Now, every time he thinks about Angelus, it would reopen the wound in his heart. It took an entire week for him to wrestle it into something manageable. Finally, he was starting to feel better - or as good as one could in this situation. At the very least, he’s ready to face the music. Donavan hadn’t gone to Angelus’ locker for an entire week. He’s starting to miss the place. 

 

When he finishes the familiar trek down the halls, there’s someone there that he doesn’t recognize.

 

White stiletto heels balance two tanned and distractingly long legs. They’re topped by an ocean blue skirt that ends inches above the mid thigh. Every time the girl shifts, it floats like leaves around her thighs. A fitted white blouse drapes from her shoulders, contrasting against tidy copper-brown hair. When she turns to something - he’s not paying attention to what - Donavan is graced with cherry lip gloss, elegant cat’s eye eyeliner, and smooth skin that peaks out from under her shirt. A shirt that could be buttoned one more than it currently is, not that he’s going to complain. Donavan’s jaw hits the floor before he can help himself. 

 

“I feel like I’m going to fall and break my nose,” a familiar voice calls out. That finally catches his attention. It’s impolite to stare, anyways. Donavan rips his eyes away from her to look around for Ange. Instead, he sees more than one person openly gawking at the girl.

 

“Oh, if you do, I want to watch,” that’s another familiar voice. A scarier one. Now that Donavan isn’t entranced, he notices Bonnie besides the girl. Bonnie is leaning on the locker wall, arms crossed, but with an amused little grin tugging at her lips. Her legs are also distracting, but she’s way too scary to be considered like that. “It’s really not that hard, though. Just align your knees with your heels when you walk.” 

 

The girl takes a cautious step, then blinks at Bonnie owlishly. “Is that seriously it?” 

 

Bonnie nods. “The frustrating part is just getting the muscle memory to stick-” Her voice trails off as the girl starts walking in circles, each stride slightly more graceful than the next. The amusement slides off of Bonnie’s face, replaced by deadpan annoyance. “How the fuck do you do that, Possible?”

 

“Language,” the girl shoots back. Donavan lets out some kind of noise he wouldn’t be able to identify under threat of violence. Was that… “Do you mean walking in heels for the very first time, or just my general ability to pick up physical skills quickly?” It couldn’t be, but Donavan didn’t know anyone else who spoke like that. 

 

“Don’t rub it in, Angie. Not everyone is a freak like you.” Bonnie reaches over and stabs her finger into Ange’s side. The jab makes Donavan clench his fists. Ange yelps, wobbles dangerously on her stilettos, and grabs at the wall to recover. 

 

Then she looks down at Bonnie and laughs. 

 

Donavan freezes mid stride.

 

“It runs in the family. A lot of my talent does. Kim has it better than me, though.” Ange says. Whatever is happening between the two girls seems like a dance that has happened more than once. She doesn’t give that permissive grin to just anyone. “However, I do have several traits that aren't expressed in her. They very likely come from my mama instead.” Bonnie motions with her head for Ange to continue. Instead, a flush starts coloring the tips of Ange’s ears. “...I’m not gonna say.”

 

Ange looks towards her locker and starts turning the dial. It must be to ignore how Bonnie leans back, places both of her hands on her hips, and shoots a scowl at Ange that would kill a lesser man. “You are not seriously holding out on me, Possible.”

 

Donavan watches the door swing open. 

 

“Not saying it,” Ange replies with finality. She points her chin towards the air to prove her point. 

 

Then, Ange reaches in past the door and grabs her English Literature textbook. 

 

Bonnie regards her with the silent lethality of a large cat. 

 

Somehow, Ange manages to ignore it. Instead, she places her book into her backpack. Once it is zipped up, she leans in close enough to brush her forehead against Bonnie’s. The smirk Ange gives her is bewitching. “I need to keep some mystery, Rockwaller.” Ange maintains eye contact as she turns towards the hallway that will lead them to English Lit. “How else will I get you to keep coming around?” 

 

The statement draws out a dismissive snort from Bonnie. 

 

When Ange stands back up to her full height and looks ahead, Donavan is no longer there.

 

She misses something else, too. As Ange starts walking Bonnie to class, Bonnie doesn’t take her eyes off of her.

 

---

 

During lunch, Tara likes to play with her hair. Bonnie lets her arrange it into a beautiful pleat, then brush it out with her fingers and do it again. It’s the most relaxing part of this period.

 

The cafeteria is loud - always loud. It’s stuffed full of hungry teens that happily shove whatever it is that the lunch ladies call food into their mouths. By now, each table has its regulars. The chess club sits on the outskirts besides the delinquents. A few unimportant cliques serve as a barrier between them and the it people of Middleton High. Kim is somewhere in that drivel, but Bonnie isn’t bothering to keep that girl on her radar.

 

Bonnie is, of course, sitting at the best spot at the biggest and best table in the room. It’s really two tables that some of the boys on the football team had pushed together. It means that all the best people in school are able to gather around and catch up on whatever gossip they’d missed since the last school day. A few seats down, Keon is busy spilling the beans about who slept with who at Lucas’ party Saturday night. Bonnie tunes it out. She’d been there.

 

Instead, she scans her eyes across the crowd. There was a distinct lack of a certain someone Bonnie had been hoping to show off. Now that she thinks about it, Bonnie doesn’t recall seeing Ange in the cafeteria at all this year. Not that she had really been paying attention until now. 

 

Bonnie pulls her lovingly maintained phone out and opens up her texts. Ange’s name is four or five people down. Sometimes, Ange would instantly respond to Bonnie’s messages. It left them with a long chain of conversation that Bonnie sometimes scrolled through if she got bored - Ange was pretty funny to talk to (Bonnie is saving that compliment for a special occasion). Sometimes, Bonnie would send a text to Ange and it would be radio silence for the rest of the day - which was just confusing. It’s not like Ange had much of a social life. Something that Bonnie would soon change.

 

”Where are you?” Bonnie sends the message out as Tara finishes up her latest braid. A French pleat that runs down the side of her head and just over her right shoulder. Bonnie takes out her compact to look it over.  “Not bad.” Bonnie catches Tara’s soft features crinkle with joy through the mirror. It’s cute enough that Bonnie adds something else. “You would wear it better than me.” Tara bumps a pleased shoulder against her as her phone buzzes on the table. Bonnie sees Ange’s name when she flips it open.

 

“Hi Bonnie. I’m in the library. Did you know that Dugongs are more closely related to Elephants than they are to whales? I hope you’re enjoying your lunch.” 

 

Bonnie rolls her eyes and sighs. She could take the Ange out of the nerd, but not the nerd out of the Ange.

 

“I didn’t.” She doesn’t even know what a Dugong is. If she asks, Ange would send her a full fucking essay about it. That’s not how Bonnie wants to spend today’s lunch period. 

 

“Come to the cafeteria.” Bonnie continues. Tara rests her chin on Bonnie’s shoulder, peeking at Bonnie’s phone screen. Tara and only Tara can get away with doing that. It’s just her luck that Ange happens to give her the weirdest reply on god's green earth at the same time.

 

”See? I knew you’d crawl back to me if I kept my secrets.” 

 

Tara starts giggling in Bonnie’s ear. The sound is nice enough to leave it numb. “Do I want to know?” Tara murmurs. Bonnie clicks her tongue.

 

”You’re crawling to me, Possible. Now.” Bonnie texts back, then tilts her head enough to glance side-long at the blonde. “Tara, even I don’t know what’s going on in that girl’s head.” It brings a hint of mischief to Tara’s blue eyes. There was a reason Tara was Bonnie’s closest friend. Bonnie smirks at what she says next.

 

“Let's figure it out, then.”

 

Chapter 34: Chapter 34

Bonnie is a queen. That’s the first thought Ange has when she finally sees the brunette in the crowded cafeteria. Which is embarrassingly gay of her to think, even if the description fits. Bonnie sits neatly on her chair like a throne. When she looks up from her phone to say something, the entire table listens. It’s something funny, because they start laughing a low rumble that’s added to the background noise of the lunch room. And the lunch room was always loud. 

 

Besides Bonnie, Tara leans against her shoulder. They’re close enough that their sides are pressed together. Ange decides to stop thinking about girls and sides and pressing before she gets flustered. Instead, she makes her way towards the table in the middle of the cafeteria. The crowd parts around her like the Red Sea. It almost makes Ange stumble. 

 

Since Bonnie had worked her magic on Ange this morning, Ange has noticed that she’s being treated like she’s something… different. People open doors for her. boys stare at her. girls do too, but in like, a measured kind of way. Everyone was approximately thirty to forty percent more friendly towards her. In this mini skirt and blouse combo, Ange is pretty sure she could walk up to anyone in this room and convince them to give her their lunch. It’s a type of power she never knew existed, let alone wielded. One that compels her to walk with a straight back and smooth steps (that could just be the stilettos demanding their care). 

 

It’s kind of fun. Maybe this is why Bonnie is like that.

 

“Hi guys,” Ange greets cheerfully. Her backpack is thrown over one shoulder, her hip naturally tilts to one side, her blue eyes sweep over the entire table as it goes quiet. More than one person opens their mouth in shock. Even Tara widens her eyes when she finally catches sight of Ange. Bonnie gives her a side long fox smile that Ange can’t help but mirror. A part of her wonders if it’s weird that she isn’t more self-conscious about all this, but she ends up dismissing it. The attention wasn’t something she necessarily enjoyed, but it was too interesting not to experiment with. “There’s not something on my face, is there?” She ends up saying to break them out of their reverie. It works, somewhat.

 

“No way, you look great!” A girl sitting across from Bonnie chimes in. She has black hair that cascades down her back in glamorous curls. Ange idly wonders what they feel like. Before she can reply, one of the boys - Riley from the lacrosse team? - stands up quickly. 

 

“Hey, you’re Ange, right?” He has a charming smile and handsome brown eyes. “Lemme go grab you a seat.” A kind gesture that Ange doesn’t want to accept. 

 

She gives him a little grin, then steps over to Bonnie’s other side. “Sure, I’ll sit right here. Thank you.” It makes Riley stop for just a moment in surprise before he goes off to find something for Ange to sit on. Ange watches him for a moment before she turns her attention to Bonnie. 

 

Her turquoise eyes are as focused as a laser onto Ange’s face. It was a novel feeling, being on the other end of a stare like that. Ange considers closing herself into something unreadable. Instead, she looks past Bonnie to give Tara a sweet smile. One that is happily returned, to Ange’s delight. She adjusts her attention back to Bonnie. One of Bonnie’s eyebrows has risen with intrigue in the time Ange has looked away. 

 

Ange gives her a grin that makes Bonnie’s eyes widen with alarm before she strikes. “So, what’s going on in this shindig?” 

 

Some of the people at the table groan. Bonnie facepalms. Tara snorts out an amused breath. Riley arrives just in time to look at everyone, confused. Ange breaks out into giggles as she takes her acquired seat. “Sorry, sorry, I won’t say it again.” She sets her lunchpack on the table. “I couldn’t help myself. You all looked so serious it was making me nervous.”

 

To be fair, it does break the tension completely. Ange can even see a few of the people she’d offended start to chuckle. They return to whatever conversations they had been having prior to Ange’s arrival. Bonnie peaks at her from between her fingers.  Ange can tell Bonnie realizes she did all of it with purpose by the way her eyes narrow into something thoughtful. She gives Bonnie a blue eyed wink.

 

“Hey, Angie,” Tara says from over Bonnie’s shoulder. “That’s a really nice outfit. Why the sudden change?”

 

“Ah, what a lovely question,” Ange leans back in her chair, pointing a sly finger towards Bonnie. “You can blame her. For the next two weeks, I belong to Bonnie.” Tara tilts her head as she digests the information. 

 

“You’re welcome, by the way,” Bonnie sits back up with a haughty sniff. “You look way better in this than your normal wear. Whatever sorry excuse of a fashion sense that is.”  

 

“I disagree,” Ange crosses one leg over the other, mimicking the way she’s seen Kim sit a few times. “It’s just different, and a bit more classic.” The way she looks at her nails is all Bonnie. “Though I don’t know enough about fashion to have that much of an informed opinion.” 

 

“Trust me, that’s obvious.” Bonnie deadpans. 

 

“I like how you dress, Ange.” Tara speaks up. Bonnie gives her an annoyed stare that she ignores. “It’s very you.” Well, Ange was still figuring that part out. It doesn’t stop her from throwing a grateful smile to Tara. 

 

“It’s mediocre at best,” Bonnie reaches over and starts rummaging through Ange’s lunchpack. She pulls out the tupperware full of broccoli chicken and the chopsticks Ange had packed that morning. “I wouldn’t be caught dead in it.” 

 

“Is that so?” Ange says. In front of Bonnie is a lunch tray full of untouched mystery meat. Ange decides to let Bonnie do as she pleases. It’ll make up for her teasing. “Then can I have my hoodie back?” A piece of broccoli freezes half way between the tupperware and Bonnie’s lips. Tara’s eyes lock onto the soft, too large, white hoodie Bonnie has been wearing all day. Ange goes back to looking at her nails. 

 

“Actually, nevermind,” Ange says lightly. “I don’t think it’ll go with my outfit.”

 

---

 

Bonnie is sitting on her desk when Ange walks into the Chemistry classroom. She’s pointedly not wearing a hoodie, but Ange can see that her bag is stuffed a little more tightly than normal. Ange is helpless against the excited grin that breaks out across her face. The six other girls, including Tara, are surrounding her as they all talk amongst themselves. Ange practically skips over to them - carefully, because heels still scare her.

 

She sits her backpack in front of her chair. Bonnie watches her settle on top of the desk right next to her with a smirk that promises trouble.

 

“Hi girls,” Ange eyes Bonnie cautiously. It only makes Bonnie’s smug aura thicker - or whatever. It’s hard to come up with a good allusion when she has Bonnie’s full attention. “What’s going on?” The girls greet her with some worrying giggles.

 

“Angie,” Bonnie starts first, sweet as pie. “We were just talking about boys.” Ah, this again. The smile on her face becomes a little harder to keep.  It shouldn’t surprise her so much. Girls liked boys. Ange was the odd one out here. 

 

Tara reaches over from her seat to nudge at Ange’s thigh. Her hand is small and soft. It feels unfairly nice. “Has anyone caught your eye?” Tara probes. Ange looks from Tara’s hand, to her face, to all the faces around her, and wonders how bad the fallout would be if she just came out and told them all that she preferred women.

 

“I can’t say that any of the boys have,” Ange says, trying to sound natural. And if she doesn’t, she prays they mistake whatever waver they may hear as nervousness and not fear.

 

“Riley asked about you after lunch,” Bonnie says as she rests a casual arm onto Ange’s shoulder. Bonnie is watching her with intent. This time, Ange lets herself become unreadable. “He was hoping he could get your number.” 

 

“Then he should ask me himself,” Ange says after a deliberate hesitation. “Going through someone else isn’t a good look.” 

 

Some of the girls make ‘oohs’. Bonnie clicks her tongue, but it’s with approval. The way Bonnie lifts her chin at Ange is almost proud. Despite how caged Ange feels, it still makes something fuzzy dance around her chest. Was that pathetic? She couldn’t tell.

 

“I told him that too. He’ll probably ask you out sometime soon.” Bonnie says. Then, she lowers her voice, leaning in to whisper. Ange can feel Bonnie’s warm breath brush against the shell of her ear and she just knows it’s gone bright red. “I can teach you everything you need to know about dating.” Ange isn’t sure if she wants to laugh or cry at that. She settles on silence. “I’d hate for you to embarrass yourself.” Bonnie pulls back, obviously pleased with herself.

 

“Oh,” is the only thing Ange can bring herself to say. Just enough time passes for the silence to last too long. Then Mrs. Tomic enters the room and starts class. For once, Ange doesn’t want to scrutinize the look on Bonnie’s face as Bonnie heads to her desk to sit besides Brick. Habit makes her anyway.

 

Confusion and evaluation. 

 

Ange might be in trouble.

 

---

 

The Kimmunicator in Ange’s backpack goes off five minutes before the end of class. Ange gives Mrs. Tomic a sheepish smile as she slips into the hallway. Thankfully, Mrs. Tomic likes her enough to give her an approving nod. 

 

“Go, Wade.” Ange says, stilettos clacking on linoleum flooring as she makes her way to her locker. 

 

“I’ve got a hit on- woah.” Wade’s voice screeches to a halt so quickly it makes Ange look down at the screen. He’s staring at her with wide eyes. Ange raises her eyebrows at Wade until he picks his thoughts back up. “Sorry, you just look pretty today.”  Would it be worth it to tease him? No, not if there’s a mission at stake. 

 

“Thanks. I feel pretty too.” Ange opens up her locker and grabs the duffel she’d stuffed into the top shelf. It has all of the mission gear she’d kept from last week inside. “What’s the sitch?”

 

“Right.” Wade shakes his head and shifts back into mission mode. “You said you wanted in on Drakken missions. Well, he just made a move on a computer manufacturing plant in Germany.” It draws a thoughtful hum out of Ange. There was plenty that could be done with a well made computer chip. “Your ride will be outside in ten minutes. Meet up with Kim at the north side.” 

 

“Ten-four.” Wade nods at her, then shuts off communications on his end. Ange sighs. He must feel a bit cautious about adding her into these missions. Ange had made it clear where she stood in terms of priorities last Friday. A problem to address another time. She needs to get dressed.

 

Kim pounces on her the moment she opens up the north side doors. 

 

She squeals, which makes Ange squeal. Together, they start squealing and jumping around in erratic circles that only gets more excited with the passage of time. A very confused Ron watches from the sidelines. “Angie!” Kim says, vibrating in her arms. The brilliant smile on Kim’s face blankets warmth throughout Ange’s entire body. “This is our first mission together. Oh my gosh, this is going to be ferociously awesome!” 

 

“I know!!” Ange says, also vibrating in Kim’s arms. Together, they hop this way and that across the parking lot besides Middleton High. “I am so stinkin’ excited to see you in action!” Her blue eyes catch sight of someone. “Oh- and, uh, you too Ron.” Ange gives him an awkward grin as she and Kim slow to a stop. Thankfully, he just waves it off.

 

“All good, I’m used to being overlooked.” That was just plain sad. “Don’t worry about it! It’s a good thing.” Ron slicks a hand through his messy blonde hair. “It means I can sneak in under the radar.” He puffs out his chest for good measure. “I self-destruct the lairs most of the time.”

 

Rufus pokes his head out from one of the many pockets of Ron’s cargo pants. “Me too!” 

 

“And I couldn’t do it without you both,” Kim adds fondly.

 

Ange looks between Ron and Rufus thoughtfully. “So, is it you specifically that self-destructs the lairs,” She points at Ron, then makes a circular motion with the same finger. “Or are you counting Rufus and you as one.”

 

“Hey! We are totally a unit.” Ron crosses his arms defensively. Overhead, the rumble of a jet approaches. “Just because Rufus hits the button more than me doesn’t mean I don’t do my part.” Ange just grins, hunch proven correct. 

Chapter 35: Chapter 35

Notes:

The gay energy in this chapter is immaculate.

Metal screeches as it’s shredded into pieces. Kim registers it in some part of her mind, but her focus is on more important things. Shego’s eyes glow electric green when she uses her powers. They’re beautiful in the same way a brightly colored spider is beautiful. Dangerous, captivating, wouldn’t think twice before striking and eating their prey.

 

Fortunately, Kim isn’t prey. 

 

She flips out of her backspring to land on top of one of the large automated machines that cover the entire floor of the factory. Drakken has hostages. Kim needs to pull Shego away from them before Ron would be able to get them to safety. She gives Shego a smirk, one that Shego returns with twice as much edge.

 

“You finally showed up.” Shego rips her hand from the metal as easily as tearing paper. Her arm slices through the air. Kim has to step backwards and grab onto a well placed pipe to avoid a blast of plasma. It leaves the wall behind her sizzling. “I thought I’d managed to scare you off.” Kim kicks her hips forwards, then backwards, and forwards again until she has enough momentum to swing onto another platform. Always farther from the room full of hostages. 

 

“Please,” Kim says, stepping from a pipe to a platform to a metal rail and back to another pipe. “Like I have anything to be afraid of.” She can tell Shego’s followed her by the shadow cast on the wall in front of her. Purely on instinct, Kim falls forward and down. A flaming hand occupies the spot her head had just been in. 

 

Kim twists onto her shoulder, striking a leg upwards so quickly it blurs. Shego moves her torso just enough to make it miss by a centimeter. She blocks the other leg with an elbow. The blow barely shakes Shego’s body. “Oh, don’t worry, Kimmie”-- white teeth flash past black lipstick lips --“there’s plenty to be afraid of.” Kim snakes her leg around Shego’s shoulder. The muscles in her abdominals scream with the force required to pull Shego over herself and into open space. Even as Shego flies through the air, she flips her feet downwards to land with the grace of a cat. They plant firmly onto the side of a machine, her knees bend, then she rockets back out towards Kim.

 

“I’ll teach you!” She roars. Her right hook flies over Kim’s head, but the left connects against Kim’s boney ribs.

 

The girl stumbles for one step, then turns it into a backwards roll that’s perfectly balanced on the thin pipe they’re on. Shego is on her in the time it takes her to get back to her feet. Kim slams her knee into Shego’s side so hard it rattles in the socket. 

 

A grunt. Locked eyes. One single moment of silence.

 

They both explode into movement. Dodge the uppercut, block the elbow strike, counter with a right fist, a high right kick leads into a low left kick, avoid a well timed punch. The two dance across the jungle gym of machinery, giving and taking ground in equal amounts. The sounds of their blows echo through the room. 

 

---

 

Behind Ange, there’s a display of athleticism and skill that would impress even her Shifu. Frustratingly, Ange can’t enjoy it. 

 

She’s too busy staring down the barrel of a ray gun. 

 

Ange follows the length of its barrel up Drakken’s arm to his face. The man towers over her by at least a foot. The scar underneath his left eye casts a dangerous shadow across his cheek that’s further twisted cold and ugly from the sneer he’s wearing. She needs more information. “Dr. Drakken,” Angelus gives him a disappointed smile, eyebrows bunching together. “You told me you wouldn’t be villainous for a week.” 

 

That makes him lift his upper lip off of his teeth. The finger on the trigger twitches. “And you said that Kim Possible was busy with Regionals this week!” Drakken snarls out. Ange should have expected him to do his research. He is a scientist. “So we’re both liars!” 

 

That makes Ange frown. “I did not!” (Technically.) She props both of her fists onto each of her hips and glares right back at him. “I said that Kim had Regionals, which she did.” The top part of her sternum, right below the clavicle, presses into the point of the muzzle as she leans forward. “And then I asked if you could chill out for a week. Which you agreed to!” 

 

Drakken’s grip on his ray gun loosens at the exclamation. If Ange is quick enough, she could probably snatch it from his hands. 

 

“Oh,” Drakken says. He actually starts looking a little guilty, too. Ange makes a split second decision to approach this from another angle. “I suppose you did - bwa- that doesn’t matter!” The ray gun digs into her black compression shirt. Over Drakken’s shoulder, Ange catches Ron dropping down from the ceiling and onto the floor. “I’m a villain! You shouldn’t expect me to tell you the truth.” 

 

Ron gives her a worried glance. Ange shakes her head at him until he gets the message. When she turns her attention back to Drakken she makes it become a slower, sadder headshake. It makes Drakken blink at her with confusion.

 

“I just thought we could trust each other,” Ange says. She lets her voice slip into a disheartened pout. “One scientist to another.” Drakken inhales quickly. The gun stops pressing against her entirely. She hides her smile by giving Drakken a puppy dog stare. It makes him hunch forward and wave his hands back and forth. 

 

“No, no, you can - I mean, as a scientist, I am completely trustworthy,” Drakken says, pleading. Behind him, Ron starts to lead the hostages out of the building. 

 

“You lied to me!” Ange crosses her arms. 

 

“As a villain, I’m - nngg!” Drakken starts stomping his feet, one after another. He looks past her shoulder to address someone else. “Shego, help me explain to Ange that I am trustworthy!” Ange turns too, hoping to see what Kim looks like in a fight.

 

“I’m a little busy here!” Shego calls out, busy flipping out of the way of… something. A large lithography machine just barely blocks Kim from Ange’s line of sight. Shego hops back to her feet and charges behind the machinery. “And you aren’t trustworthy!” 

 

“Shego!” Drakken says, snarling. “I am!”

 

“Are not.” Shego’s voice sounds out from somewhere deeper in the factory. Ange turns back towards Drakken in time to see Ron lead the last hostage out of the room. He gives her a big thumbs up. Ange grins.

 

“Are too!” 

 

“Are - oof - Not!” Shego’s reply makes a vein start throbbing on Drakken’s neck. It looks a little worrying.

 

“Are! Too!”

 

“I believe you!” Ange says, before this can devolve any further. She reaches over to grab Drakken’s arm, deliberately choosing the one that’s holding the ray gun. There is strength in it that shouldn’t have been as surprising as it is. He probably spent a lot of time lifting heavy machinery too. “It sounds like this was all just a big misunderstanding.” 

 

Instantly, Drakken goes from incensed to hopefully pleased. “You do?”

 

Ange nods at him, watching the change with open fascination. What an unstable man. “Oh yes,” she pats his shoulder, further pacifying one of the world’s most dangerous super villains. “Water under the bridge.” It makes the tension in Drakken’s frame drain away. While his guard is down, Ange starts making her move. “What kind of ray gun is that?” It helps that she’s also genuinely curious.

 

Drakken looks at it as if he forgot he was even holding it. “This?” Ange nods. “It’s a freeze ray. The molecular kind, not the cold kind.” Ange’s eyes sparkle with delight. She opens her mouth.

 

“Though they’re both identical on a technical level,” Drakken and Ange speak at the exact same time. He jerks his gaze towards her with surprise. Drakken lets out a little squee. In tandem, they jump up in excitement. 

 

“I tried making one for my science project last year,” Ange says to him after she’s landed. “But I couldn’t figure out how to get the cold out of the freeze.” She points at the ray gun, which Drakken proudly displays to her. “Do you have any idea where I might have gone wrong?”

 

Drakken gives her a cocky look. Patronizing, even. Ange only lets it slide because the mission hasn’t finished yet. And, very likely, she was going to have to get used to villain ego if she was going to do this again. All Drakken says is three words. “Multi-core enabled intermodulator.” He starts snickering when Ange shoves the palm of her hand against her forehead.

 

“That is so obvious!” Ange lets out a groan. Maybe Drakken earned the right to be patronizing this one time. “How did you fit that in such a small body? Mine always come out three times as big.”

 

“Hmmmmmm, oh alright!” Drakken reaches behind his back, only to pull out a portable Philips head screw driver. It opens up like a switch blade with a little click. Ange makes a mental note to get one of those. “I’ll show you!” On the bottom of the grip is a single screw that Drakken starts loosening. He places it in his pocket for safe keeping, then pulls apart the entire ray gun. Little snaps sound as the plastic fasteners come loose. 

 

The guts of the gun are finally exposed. Ange’s jaw drops open.

 

Inside is machinery so fine and intricate, it takes her breath away. Drakken uses gold plated wires. That’s not even in the top ten most interesting things about the build. A curved glass vial full of purple gas sits in the very center - an honest to god theta cortex. Wires spider-web out, leading to different components all arranged in an order so logical it makes Ange feel legitimately stupid. That’s a hard thing to do in this particular field of study. 

 

“It’s beautiful...” she breathes. “Can I?” Ange reaches out with shaking hands. Drakken passes it over, smug as a bug in a rug.

 

The multi-core enabled intermodulator is at the very end of the muzzle. A ring of copper metal that is dotted with tiny little computer chips. It’s where Ange had gone wrong. Nothing she currently has can produce something so complex and small at the same time. She would need to upgrade her machinery at home. 

 

Just how far behind was she to the greatest minds in the world? Ange swallows, gathering herself with a calming breath. She would need to work harder.

 

Shego comes flying out from the depths of the factory, landing in a heap that she turns into a roll. Once she springs back onto her feet, Shego turns to Drakken. “Dr. D!” Her gaze shifts between Drakken and the room she was forcibly removed from. “Time to go! I just saw the cops gathering outside.”

 

On top of the largest piece of machinery in the room, Kim activates her grappling hook. It connects somewhere high onto the ceiling. She steps off and lets herself fall in a stomach dropping arc that barrels her right into Shego. They slide across the cold tile, Kim bunching Shego’s suit up in fists to keep her down. “Or you could just give up,” Kim sing-songs. From below, Shego glares at her.

 

“Drakken, hurry up and freeze Kim so we can get out of here already!” 

 

There’s an awkward cough.

 

After a moment of silence, both of them turn to look at Drakken. He’s giving them his biggest, nicest, most innocent smile. They look down at his hands. His currently empty hands. Then, they look at Ange, who is giving both of them an amused grin. Finally, they look down at her hands, and at the disassembled ray gun in them.

 

“...” Shego’s head falls back onto the tile floor with a defeated sigh. “Just take me away, Princess.”

 

---

 

Bonnie walks out of the locker room, freshly showered and completely refreshed. There was nothing better than pushing herself to her limits with six of her girls. Except, maybe the post work-out pampering she always indulges in as a gift to herself. She has a little tube of the good bodywash tucked away in her locker just for it.

 

Not having Kim around was always a plus. That girl was bossy.

 

Normally, Bonnie would have all of them gather at whatever fast food joint she was craving with some of the finer boys on the sports teams. Unfortunately, it’s Monday evening, and there’s a pre-calc test scheduled for tomorrow that she has to study for. It’s a bummer all around. Tara, Jessica, and Marcella follow her out of the doors, gossiping about something she’s only half paying attention to. 

 

“Is he really going to ask her out?” Jessica says behind her. Bonnie can hear Tara’s hum of agreement. “Wow, I didn’t think she was his type.”

 

Outside, fall has firmly taken hold of Middleton. The air is cold enough to be annoying. She would have to moisturize when she got home to keep her skin from drying out. At least the trees are starting to turn. It was maybe the only good thing about autumn. That, and pumpkin spice. Maybe she’ll study in a coffee shop. A new Sundollars had recently opened up nearby.

 

“You two don’t share the same period as us,” Tara replies. There’s a smile in it. “Angie was totally his type at lunch.” That has Bonnie’s full attention. Tara walks over to wrap her arm around Bonnie’s. “Isn’t that right?”

 

“I can only hope it sticks,” Bonnie glances behind her shoulder at Jessica and Marcella. “Ange would actually be hot if she tried.” Jessica tilts her head in a question.

 

“Bonnie’s made Ange her pet project.” Tara says, always the helpful one. The two girls make little ‘oohs’ in understanding. The wince Marcella makes is just offensive, though. 

 

“I’ll bring her around next time,” Bonnie lifts her chin at Marcella. She had been planning on doing that today. Unfortunately, Ange now has the same hobby as Kim. Bonnie doesn’t see the appeal. Saving the world couldn’t be that fun or important. “So you can see the improvement.” 

 

Jessica saves Marcella from Bonnie’s dangerous stare by speaking up. “It’s gotta be something crazy if she’s captured Riley’s attention.” 

 

“It is,” Bonnie says, thinking back. Ange’s legs were amazing in that skirt and heel combo. White looks good on her too. In her head, Bonnie starts formulating the next outfit she’ll have Ange wear. Maybe she should get some lipstick to highlight how pretty her lips are. “She’s too good for Riley.” Her girls stop walking. Bonnie only notices because Tara is still holding onto her arm. The expression on Tara’s face is an odd smile. Bonnie’s never seen it before. Marcella and Jessica just look shocked. “What?” Bonnie narrows her eyes. “Ange is out of his league.” 

 

She knows what she’s saying is going against the grain. Riley is really good at lacrosse and his grades are decent. Most importantly, he’s hot. He’s just not as athletic, smart, or hot as Ange is. Plus, she has an actual personality. The way Ange had navigated the cafeteria earlier had been surprisingly shrewd. Bonnie could respect it. 

 

“He didn’t even have the balls to ask her for her number,” Bonnie continues when the girls continue not saying anything. 

 

It gets Tara to nod in agreement, which is why Tara is her favorite. The other two finally seem won over. Marcella clicks her tongue. Jessica sighs with disappointment. “I didn’t think he’d be such a pussy,” she says. 

 

A cold breeze makes them all shiver. “Who would you pair her with?” Tara asks her. 

 

Bonnie misses how pensive Tara’s stare is because she’s too busy opening up her backpack. “Hmmm,” Bonnie pulls out a soft white hoodie that’s too big for her. She starts thinking about all the boys at Middleton High. Most of them come up lacking. “Let me get back to you on that.” She finally says, slipping the sweater on over her head.

 

---

 

The plane taking them home rumbles loudly, even from the inside. 

 

Ron is laying on the metal floor, reading through a textbook. Ange would have offered to help him, but he’s working on some American history homework. It isn’t her area of expertise. 

 

On one of the more comfortable (but not really that comfortable) benches sits Kim. She’s glowing the way she does after every successful mission. She’s already finished her homework, so she’s busy scrolling through her Kimmunicator. Ange watches her thoughtfully. 

 

“Hey Kim?” Ange says, after a long moment of introspection.

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“Why does Shego call you Princess?”

Chapter 36: Chapter 36

Notes:

I have a keyboard that finally works! and it's ergonomic. Yippiieeeee as Angie would say

“Put it on,” says her Shifu. In front of Ange is a black leather collar with a bell bolted onto the middle. Ange looks at her Shifu with suspicion. 

 

“I’m... you’re very pretty. But a little too old- AAH!” A knife buries itself into the wall that Ange had been standing in front of with a deep thunk. Ange scrambles out of her dive with less grace than she’d like to admit. To be fair, the thought of fighting her Shifu is scarier than the thought of fighting Kim. Kim wouldn’t kill her, for one. 

 

Her Shifu moves her arm. The bell sounds in Ange’s hand as she catches it. It’s the only time it makes a noise. She looks down at the collar pensively. Then she sighs and wraps the belt of it around her neck. The kids at school were totally going to get the wrong idea.

 

“When can I take it off?” 

 

Sunbright eyes finally look at her.

 

“When you no longer let it ring.” 

 

---

 

At six in the morning, in the attic room of the Possible household, an alarm goes off on a desk by a window. It rings its harsh tune for several seconds, prompting a pitiful, grumpy groan from the top bunk. Ange shoves her head underneath her pillow and tries her best to ignore the noise, but there is no reward. Only shrill beep… beep… beeps that her pillow can’t muffle.

 

Beep… Beep… Beep...

 

Ange refuses to open her eyes. She sits up and swings her arm so quickly it blurs. Not even a second later, her pillow smacks into the villainous alarm with such force that it’s knocked off the table and shatters on the floor. Finally, there is silence. Evil is vanquished. Peace to the kingdom for a hundred years. All that fun stuff.

 

With a content sigh, Ange rolls back onto her side and snuggles deep into her warm covers.

 

At six thirty, a hand starts shaking her by the shoulders. “Hrrmmm…” Ange rolls deeper into her covers. Somehow, the hand still finds her from her hiding place. Evil. This was evil incarnate. 

 

“Ange,” Ange’s evil incarnating sister says. “You broke your alarm again.” Kim starts shaking Ange harder. No matter where Ange rolls, Kim still finds her. She wonders how Kim can live with herself committing these crimes. And she calls herself a hero. “You should really make a sturdier one,” Kim says, sounding amused now.

 

Augh, Kim was having fun with it. Evil, evil, evil. Ange sits up with a grumpy grumble. “Then I wouldn’t be able to break it,” she mutters, rubbing the sand out of her eyes. They finally crack open. Kim, sweaty from her run and grinning gently, is the first thing she sees. At least she was the cutest evilest person in the world. There were worse things to wake up to, probably. “Wha.. time is it?”

 

Kim glances at her Kimmunicator. “Six thirty two.” 

 

“Oh…” School started at eight. Ange lays back down into her warm, heavenly bed. 

 

Kim looks at her curiously. “Does Bonnie not want you today?” 

 

“Huh- OH!” Ange springs up and out of her bed so quickly it makes Kim jump. She lands on the balls of her feet and a few rattles of her newest accessory. “Did you say six thirty two?” It took fifteen minutes to walk to school. Five if she took her bike, and thirty minutes for her to get ready. 

 

“It’s six thirty three now.” Kim says, amused. She sits onto her bottom bunk to watch the coming show.

 

Shit.

 

---

 

The wood floor of the gymnasium is cold against Bonnie’s stomach. On any other day, she would be in the library finishing up her homework. This week, and the next, would be a disruption to the norm. The occasion was special enough to warrant it. So, she’s finishing her homework the night before, and waiting here for her newest project to finally arrive. Rarely is she idle, and she might as well do some extra exercises to pass the time.

 

She pushes off the ground with her arms. With slow movement, Bonnie adjusts herself into… what had Kim called it? Wuji? A deep breath in, then out, and then she begins. Her wrists bend with grace, her legs slide beneath her with deliberate balance. Tai Chi is way harder than it looks, but Bonnie couldn’t deny the benefits it brought to her stability and dancing. Her instructor had even lifted a lip upwards by a millimeter this morning. Or the light tricked her. 

 

As she’s finishing Grasp the Birds Tail, the sound of the gymnasium double doors opening catches her attention. It’s about time Possible got here. Bonnie pauses mid motion when she hears something else.

 

Ding, ling, ling...

 

Instead of closing out her ritual, Bonnie turns around. Ange is watching her the way she always does. Too focussed, too observant. It was kind of freaky. At least she’s still keeping up her end of the deal. 

 

Today, Bonnie had chosen an outfit she, personally, found particularly appealing. Low-rise, straight-cut jeans that hid the shape, but not the length, of Ange’s legs. To make up for it, Bonnie chose a sleeveless haltertop that stopped just above Ange’s second lowest rib. The smooth muscles of her stomach contract and loosen with the pattern of her breath. Even more interesting are the lines of Ange’s iliac furrow running along each hip. Bonnie traces them downwards until they disappear underneath the black leather belt she’d picked out especially for this occasion.

 

“...Bonnie?” Ange’s voice breaks her from her distraction. How long has she been staring? From the red brushing each of Ange’s cheeks, it was long enough to be noticed. Unfamiliar warmth in her chest presses down on her lungs. Bonnie clears her throat, allowing arrogance to coat her in familiar armor.

 

“Do you have to come late every day-” Bonnie stops abruptly. Ange had taken some steps towards her, each one accompanied by a light bell’s chime. The line of black leather cutting through Ange’s neck is something she did not select for her. 

 

Bonnie doesn’t notice her mouth falling open. Nor does she notice the way one of Ange’s eyebrows slowly raises towards her hairline. Nor the silence that stretches off into infinity. She stares until Ange takes a hesitant step forward. The bell’s ring snaps Bonnie back into this dimension. Her cheeks go oven hot and she knows that her skin tone isn’t dark enough to cover it up. To save face, she makes her way to the bleachers and her backpack. “What-” Bonnie stops talking immediately. She swallows, then tries again with a voice that sounds more normal. “Why the hell are you wearing that?”

 

With her back turned to Ange, she can hear the light jingles as Ange comes closer. Bonnie grips the handle of her hairbrush so hard she feels the plastic creak. What the fuck is going on? She needed to get it together, now. A deep breath in, then out, and she’s finally able to relax. 

 

Just in time. Ange sits down on the bleachers and leans in close enough that Bonnie can see the individual hairs of her eye lashes. Blue eyes search Bonnie’s face with intensity. It makes the baby hairs on the back of her neck raise. Bonnie makes sure that’s the only reaction she has. “Well?” Bonnie says. Thankfully it comes out harshly. 

 

“Oh,” Bonnie can see Ange switch from one train of thought to the other. “Well, I have trouble waking up early.” Ange says. It takes a moment for Bonnie to realize she’s answering her first question. “But I’ll do better tomorrow. Sorry.” 

 

This was a pattern that Bonnie was more intimate with. She lets herself fall back into it. “See that you do,” Bonnie snarks. “My time is actually valuable.” The muscle memory helps slow her heart rate. On a whim, Bonnie reaches under Ange’s chin and hooks her finger under the black leather. It’s warm from Ange’s skin. Bonnie ignores the unimportant detail. “And what is this?” She says with a quick tug that makes the bell sing a high note. 

 

“Hhnna!” Ange gasps.

 

Two pairs of eyes widen at the exact same time. 

 

What the fuck was that?

 

Bonnie’s jaw drops for a second time this morning. It’s nothing that compares to the brilliant red that slowly starts staining each of Ange’s cheeks - and her ears, Bonnie notices. Ange’s skin tone wasn’t able to hide her current complexion. The bottom lid of Ange’s right eye starts to twitch. A hand reaches up to clasp Bonnie’s wrist, warm fingers form a loose cage. As Ange starts gently guiding Bonnie’s hand back down to her side, Bonnie realizes that not in a million years would she be able to pull herself free. Not unless Ange let her. It makes her stomach do an odd flip.

 

It’s Ange’s turn to take a deep breath in, and then out. “It’s for my training,” she says, which explains nothing.

 

“What-?” Anger erupts behind Bonnie’s eyes. She doesn’t know where it comes from. “Training-” She sputters a few times, not knowing what to do with her rage. The force of it makes her frame shake. ”Training!? The only one allowed to train you is me.” A beat as the two process the slip up. Bonnie decides to pretend like it never happened. “Don’t wear this kind of stuff to school! I can’t believe I even have to tell you this.”

 

“It’s not like that!” Ange defends. “My Shifu is trying to make me be quiet!” Turquoise eyes narrow dangerously. “Moving! She wants me to be able to move through space without making noise.”

 

“You’re quiet enough already!” Bonnie counters. “And what the hell is a Shifu?” 

 

“She’s my master-” The look on Bonnie’s face makes Ange double take. “My martial arts master! Oh my god!” Ange reaches past Bonnie’s side. “You know what?” She shoves a backpack full of makeup products into Bonnie’s lap and then lays back on the metal bleachers. “Just put some stinkin’ mascara on me already. I am not answering any more questions!” 

 

 ---

 

“I’m not gonna sit with them,” Ange says. She’s standing beside Bonnie’s locker before their English Lit class with a scowl on her face. The one on Bonnie’s is more impressive, but she’s had more practice. 

 

“They’re my friends, Angie.” Bonnie pulls out her textbook and shoves it against Ange’s chest. Ange secures it without really thinking about it. The anger on Bonnie’s face was more important. Was that genuine hurt underneath it? Ange would have to find out a bit more. “What’s your ish? You think you’re too good for them?” 

 

“They’re mean to Donavan, who is my friend.” Ange still hasn’t forgotten that Max tripped Donavan in… wow, it felt like a century ago at this point. Or his and Keon’s habit of shoving Donavan in the nearest locker. Or how Keon almost beat Donavan up that one time. “I can’t play nice with someone who does that.” To her relief, some of the anger on Bonnie’s face fades as Bonnie pauses to think about it.

 

“I don’t see Donavan around,” Bonnie finally says. Ange instinctively clenches her jaw. It keeps her from saying something stupid. “So how good of a friend is he, really?” 

 

The feeling in Ange’s chest makes it hard for her to speak. “...That’s not fair.” 

 

It gets Bonnie to look at her, and regret briefly flashes over her face. Bonnie juts her jaw to the side as she thinks. “I’ll get them to cool it, alright?” she says in apology. It was a start. Ange feels herself nod. She stares at the floor as they make their way to class. The looks she gets from passing students don’t register. The way Bonnie bumps her shoulder into Ange’s does.  “He said he’d come find you, didn’t he?” Ange has never heard Bonnie speak so softly before. It was kind of sweet. 

 

Ange swallows past the frog in her throat and manages a smile. “W-well, I’ll see him after school for Matheletes, anyway.” 

 

Bonnie grimaces. “Did you have to remind me about that?” 

 

“Matheletes is cool!” Her smile is more real now. “Math is cool.” Ange continues when Bonnie scoffs. Maybe some examples would help? “I can tear apart the universe with it, or make a black hole- ooohh....” She should make a black hole. That would be one of her next projects. “Though, technically, it’s kind of the same thing? Maybe it would be more accurate to say they’re on such opposite sides of the spectrum that they achieve the same result- Ow!” 

 

Bonnie pulls her finger back, inspecting the nail for any chips. Ange’s waist was slender, but very tough. “Math is nerdy, just like you.” Bonnie sniffs at her. “You’re lucky I’m taking you under my wing.” Ange lets her eyes squint affectionately. Then, she reaches over and drapes a hand over Bonnie’s shoulder. 

 

“Thank you for the guidance, your majesty.” For some strange reason, Bonnie starts laughing. Ange lets herself pout cutely as they walk through the door to English Lit. That's what she gets for trying to be nice.

Chapter 37: Chapter 37

Notes:

I had so much fun writing this chapter

At the end of Ange’s English Literature class, Bonnie had waited for her at the doorway and demanded her presence at lunch. Who could resist the wiles of a beautiful woman? Ange would like to meet them, and maybe ask them how they do it. Ange just hopes that the librarian doesn’t start to miss her. 

 

The cafeteria is thundering especially loudly today. Ange tries her best to ignore it, and the way a lot of the boys in the cafeteria turn to openly stare at her as she walks by. Bonnie is already sitting down at the biggest table in the middle of the room, but a flash of red hair catches her attention. Ange grins, and makes a quick diversion from her path. 

 

The jingle jangle of the bell on her neck gives her away. Kim turns around in her chair and gives Ange a sunny smile. Ange leans down and smushes a smooch onto her adorable cheek. “Hey guys, how’s it going?” Ange says, resting her chin on top of Kim’s head. Monique is on Kim’s right, Ron is on her left. Both of them are staring at her with various levels of surprise. That’s right, they hadn’t seen her makeover yet. 

 

“Oh, so and so,” Kim leans back against her chest. “I have a pre-calc test today. That’s going to be fun,” Kim sighs regretfully. Ange nods from atop her head.

 

“Those are always the best,” Ange says, and grins when Ron gives her a disgruntled look. The cafeteria is serving spaghetti today. Rufus is on the table, slurping up noodle after individual noodle from Ron’s tray. It gives Ange Quickly Panda flashbacks, so she looks at Monique instead (who is also looking at her with disgruntled bemusement). She’s prettier, anyway. 

 

“N-O-T-T, girl,” Monique deadpans. “No one thinks that.” One person does, but Ange isn’t going to argue the point. 

 

“Do you wanna sit with us?” Kim asks from underneath her. Ange reaches her arms around Kim’s shoulders to give her a squeeze. 

 

“I gotta pass,” Ange stands back up. “Bonnie wants my attention.” Kim gives Ange a stare from underneath her eyebrows that Ange pointedly ignores. Just because she thinks that Bonnie is beautiful and she does everything Bonnie asks her to doesn’t mean she likes her. Ange nuzzles the top of Kim’s head, then makes her way over.

 

The bell really makes her obvious. Several of the students look up as she approaches. Ange catches Riley’s attention as he’s mid sip from a milk carton, and he starts coughing it up onto his tray of spaghetti. Tara’s eyes dip downwards and stay there. Ange is pretty sure she hears someone whistle. 

 

High school. 

 

Ange rolls her eyes with maybe a little fondness. It is a nice ego boost. Attraction is a useful tool. She takes the seat beside Bonnie (did Bonnie save that for her?) and throws her most charming smile to everyone at the table. “Hi there, sorry I’m late to the party.” Scanning with her eyes, Ange tries to take as much as she can in. Some of them are staring at her collar - definitely getting the wrong impression. Josh Mankey gives her a little grin from the other end of the table. Tara is watching her with a little quirk of her eyebrow. Overall, a mostly positive review. She’ll take it.

 

“Speaking of parties,” the girl with the magnificent black curls from yesterday closes her flip phone with a snap and speaks up. “Carson said his parents are leaving for the weekend.” He’s one of the linebackers on the football team, if Ange remembers correctly. 

 

“Fucking finally.” Keon, sitting beside the girl, pumps his fist. Ange decides to withhold her typical scolding. “His place has the best stereo system.” He’s tall, broad, and wears his hat backwards. Another footballer, judging by the jersey displaying a number six on his chest. 

 

Riley, who’s sitting besides him, turns his handsome brown eyes to Ange. His smile is charming, but the longer she regards him, the shyer it gets. “Will you be there?” Riley’s voice comes out evenly. An intriguing juxtaposition. 

 

“Duh,” Bonnie says for her. Ange blinks, then turns all of her attention to the brunette. Said brunette flicks her hair behind her shoulder and addresses Ange in a quieter tone. “I am not letting you waste an entire Saturday away in the lab,” she says, which is just not true. Lab time is never a waste. Bonnie presses a hand against her mouth when Ange opens it to speak. “You’re going, Possible.”

 

Wiles. Beautiful women. Ange sighs through her nose and nods. 

 

---

 

Middleton high is a school big enough to need two different lunch periods. The first one starts at eleven thirty in the morning and stretches until twelve fifteen after the noon. The second one starts at twelve and ends at twelve forty five. As the first periods’ students finish up lunch, the second period starts their long line at the cafeteria to pick up their slop. For a brief, beautiful fifteen minutes, the entire student body intermingles with each other, swapping stories and catching up on gossip.

 

As a frequent library visitor, Ange usually misses this ritual. Now that she is Bonnie’s plaything, she gets to witness this particular miracle. Ange just wonders how it turned into such a disaster. 

 

It starts like this.

 

The heavy double doors of the cafeteria swing inwards. A steady line of hungry, energetic teenagers start crowding into the room. They line up single file in front of the buffet, picking up their cartons of milk (chocolate, two percent, or skim) their tray and a piece of fruit provided by the American Public Education system. Today, it’s oranges. Then, they hold their tray out in front of a dead-eyed lunchlady so she can, in turn, hold out a ladle of hot food - spaghetti - and overturn it onto the flat plastic surface with a splat. Once all is gathered, the students are welcome to find whatever table suited their fancy.

 

In reality, there’s an unwritten hierarchy of seats that is strictly enforced through wedgies or purple-nurples from the boys and socially ostracizing rumors from the girls. The lunchroom is the most dangerous part of this jungle.

 

Carson, a tall, shaggy haired blonde, that is definitely all that, has second period lunch. As a member of the football team, muscling his way into the front is easy. At this point, the students just let him cut the line. They are well trained. With food in hand, he walks towards the biggest, bestest table in the middle of the lunch room. As he does, Ron, the poor boy, gets up from the table he’s sitting at without looking. He’s too busy convincing Kim Possible to come see Cukillers, Attack of the Vegetable People with him after school. An honorable task. 

 

They collide mid-motion. Today’s lunch ends up on Carson’s purple football jersey, also with a splat. 

 

Silence.

 

“Oh man, I am so sorry,” Ron says with a very nervous grin. In the background, Kim and Monique exchange worried glances. In the foreground, Carson lets himself snarl.

 

“Stoppable!” He grabs Ron by the scruff of his shirt, lifting him clear off the ground with one single arm. He is, after all, all that. Ron squeaks. From his pocket, Rufus squeaks. Kim hops to her feet.

 

“Carson, it’s no big, alright? Let's just go get it washed off before it stains.” Kim holds up her hands placatingly. From her stance, she’s obviously ready for a fight.

 

“My mom just washed this!” Carson yells, but he lets Ron go. No one in school messes with Kim Possible (except Bonnie).

 

“Your mom still does your laundry?” Ron says unhelpfully. Kim grimaces. 

 

Carson narrows his eyes. He grabs some milk (chocolate) off the tray of an innocent bystander that is walking by. Then he hucks it right at Ron with football precision - not realizing Ron has approximately an entire year and a half of death ray dodging, pants falling off but still running, letting Rufus hit the self-destruct button agility. Ron leans his torso back and watches the carton whizz past his face.

 

Splat.

 

“CARSON,” Monique, covered in milk (chocolate) hops to her feet. “I know you did NOT just throw that at me!” Carson has the decency to look sorry. He does not have the decency to stand still when Monique grabs her half finished milk (two percent) and lob it right back at him. Approximately two years of the highs and lows of high school football drilled agility kicks in. He leans his torso back and watches it whizz past his face. 

 

How many splats is too many for a school cafeteria? Some people will never know, but the students of Middleton High learn that day. 

 

Splat goes the milk (two percent), right into the side of the head of one of the delinquents on the outskirts of the room. It drips down her hair for a few, breath-holding seconds. She grabs her carton of (chocolate) milk and slams her foot on the seat of her chair. Finally, she takes a rage filled inhale and-

 

”FOOD FIGHT”

 

Back at the biggest and bestest table of Middleton High, Ange startles in her seat. The first one to react, she turns around just in time to see a carton of milk (chocolate) fly through the air in a graceful arc and land onto some poor, innocent, and nameless victim. They probably have a name, she just doesn’t know it. They scream. 

 

The war begins.

 

“Holy smokes-” Ange springs off her chair, hooking her foot around a leg and kicking it upwards just in time to intercept a clod of spaghetti (splat) heading right for her. Besides her, Bonnie, Tara, and many of the other teenagers finally start to react. 

 

“Hit the deck!” Josh yells from behind her. Bonnie abandons her pride to scramble underneath the biggest and bestest tables of Middleton High. She’s kind enough to drag Tara down with her. Ange is the last of the trio to duck into safety, wielding a lunch tray like a shield and chiming from her collar. Just in time. The sound of heavy artillery (oranges) starts raining down all around them. Somewhere in the distance, someone screams in milky (skim) agony. 

 

Ange turns back to meet the gazes of her compatriots and her blue eyes are wild. “We can’t stay here for long.” They’re surrounded on all sides, dead center in the lunchroom. “We’re sitting ducks!” 

 

“What do we do?!” Keon says, holding his neck at an awkward angle. There’s panic in his voice. His huge frame is just barely stuffed underneath the table. As the biggest target, he has the most to lose. Ange narrows her eyes in thought. Josh reaches a hand blindly onto the table and grabs the juice box he brought from home. 

 

All around them, the wet noises of noodles and milk and other various flavors gets louder. An errant lunch tray comes skidding under their table, covered in nasty sauce. Bonnie huddles closer to Tara. Tara clings back in fear. The girl with the pretty hair, among others, starts shivering (Ange doesn’t care about the boys enough to check on them). It just won't do. 

 

“I have an idea!” Ange sits up as much as she can in their makeshift bunker. “But I can’t do this alone.” She puts as much conviction behind her eyes as she can. It works, most of them blink hopefully at her. “I’ll need every one of you with me if we’re going to make it out of this alive. Do you trust me?” The camaraderie born from a life and death situation makes them puff up with confidence. Most of them. Bonnie looks around like she doesn’t know what is going on between Ange and the others. 

 

A half eaten bologna sandwich lands, then falls apart in layers a little too close besides them. Bonnie flinches when some mayonnaise almost hits her shoe. “Possible, just get us out of here!”

 

Outside of the biggest and bestest Middleton bunker, is complete pandemonium. The visceral gore of spaghetti coats the walls of the cafeteria. Every man for themselves. 

 

Gallons of milk (chocolate, skim, two percent) in their cartons fly through the air. Some hit their targets, leaving students rolling around in despair. Milk despair. Oranges fling themselves out of the hands of teenagers and into the stomachs of other, less fortunate teenagers. Kim Possible herself is using a lunch tray as a surfing board to navigate the chaos. She’s the only one untouched by the carnage, flipping and weaving through sauce and edible nastiness with approximately a year and a half of Shego honed agility.  

 

A screech rings out from the middle of the room, loud enough to temporarily halt the war. 

 

The two tables of the biggest and bestest Middleton bunker flip onto their sides, forming large shields. Keon, Riley, and several of the sports boys (Ange really has to learn all of these peoples’ names) drag them into a V formation, aiming towards the double doors of the cafeteria, and towards their safety. Bonnie, Tara, pretty haired girl, and a few other girls drag the chairs around to guard their flank. Ange pops her head out of cover to assess the field. She sees surprised faces and honestly, just a disgusting amount of food plating every surface - She feels kind of bad for the janitor. She’ll help him clean this up later.

 

“Fly, my pretties!” She commands, dodging back down in time to avoid a carton of milk (two percent, expired) that catapults over her head to land somewhere out of view. The sound of a scream and a body hitting the floor makes her wince. There really were no victors on the battlefield. Except for them, hopefully. 

 

As one unit, the two tables of the biggest and bestest Middleton battering ram slide forwards. The wood shrieks against the linoleum flooring, drowning out the sound of food being pelted at them from either side with growing intensity. They’re the biggest target in the entire school - many of the less popular students likely want to use this opportunity to vent grievances. It doesn’t matter, Ange anticipated this when she formed the plan.

 

Josh plays baseball in his off time - likely that’s why he has such nice shoulders. It also makes him the perfect partner in crime.

 

In tandem, walking backwards with the group, Ange and Josh reach into their gathered ammunition (oranges - two percent, skim, and chocolate milk - lots of spaghetti that Ange was only going to touch with this plastic spoon she found) to huck past the chairs towards their opposition. Each throw meets the mark, downing an enemy with digestibles. It lightens the onslaught aimed at their weak flank. Bitterly, they drag their way to the exit. Ange knows they made it when the V of the tables breaks apart, then forms protectively around their back in another V. One last fling of an orange, one last step backwards, and Ange is finally past the doors. 

 

From across the room she makes eye contact with Donavan, right as the doors close in front of her face. The thin rectangular windows on each door are immediately covered in food goop, blocking any hope of catching a better view.

 

Silence. 

 

“Holy shit,” a voice says from behind Ange’s shoulder. It’s one of the students she doesn’t recognize. “We… did it.”

 

Everyone breaks into cheers, high fives, and adrenaline hugs. Suddenly, Ange is yanked off the floor. She lets out a little “AH!” before many hands toss her into the air, then catch her, only to do it again two more times. Her bell sings. She twists around on the second time to see all the boys grinning up at her. “Okay, okay! Let her down now!” Bonnie flaps her hands at the heathens until they obey. Ange makes sure her feet are firmly on the floor before she gives the boys a nervous smile. They beam back at her giddily. It’s a little adorable. “She, like, totally saved our asses.” Bonnie wraps a protective arm around her waist and tugs her away. “That doesn’t mean you’re allowed to manhandle her.” 

 

“Sorry Bonnie,” Riley says for the boys, sheepish but smiling. “Thanks Ange.” 

 

“It was no big,” Ange mumbles back. The arm around her waist is very warm. On a whim, she reaches over and pulls Bonnie close to her side. It’s the perfect opportunity to bury her face in Bonnie’s hair. Her world becomes florals, spice, and a hint of sweat. Yup, Bonnie still smells really good. “I’m just glad we all got out of there okay.” Almost all of them. 

 

After a beat, Bonnie wraps her other arm around Ange and hugs her back. Ange is thankful she can hide her dopey grin. She indulges in it for a long moment before she pulls away.

 

“I’m going back in there.”

 

“W-” Bonnie freezes in place, then glares at Ange with surprise. ”What?!”

 

“Donavan is in there.” 

 

“So what? He’s not going to die!” 

 

“I’m going,” Ange says. 

 

“Oh my god,” Bonnie introduces her palm to her forehead. “I can’t actually stop you, can I?” That makes Ange grin. A soft mushiness coats her heart. This must be what it felt like to be known.

 

“Wish me luck?” Ange asks hopefully.

 

“No,” Bonnie crosses her arms, leaning on her back foot and giving Ange a familiar, withering look. “You’re an idiot.” 

 

“I know.” She squints her eyes at Bonnie softly. “Let me borrow the showers, at least?” 

 

Bonnie’s foot starts tapping underneath her as she regards Ange with narrowed eyes. “I’ll think about it.” Ah well. Ange takes what she can. She gives Bonnie one last look before turning back towards the double doors of the cafeteria. Then, she steps forward and back into the fray.

 

---

 

Bonnie hears the doors shut with a click. She rolls her eyes at them, but it’s really at the idiot of a friend that had just walked through them. Tara walks up to her, also staring at the cafeteria doors. Then, Tara looks at Bonnie thoughtfully.

 

“Hey, Bonnie?” Tara says after a moment of introspection.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Why’d you put Ange in a collar?”

Notes:

Milk despair.

That is my single greatest accomplishment as an artist. Also my favorite line in this fic out of every chapter so far.

Chapter 38: Chapter 38

A knife slices into the space Ange’s head had been previously occupying. As Ange rolls, the thunk, thunk, thunk of blades burying into wood sound behind her. She springs into the air, twists her body, and feels the wind shiver as two more blow past her. Landing in a crouch, blue eyes catch a flash in the darkness. She pushes backwards off her back leg, flipping her entire body on its axis at the crescendo of her arc. She makes eye contact with the reflection of her sweat stained face in the polished metal of a blade for a single millisecond. The knife clatters harmlessly onto the floor as she lands on two feet. 

 

A knife slices into the edge of her cheek before digging into the wall behind her.

 

Sunbright eyes stare down at her, intelligent, wild, disappointed. Drops of blood well up past the wound and drip down her cheek. Blue eyes, brown skin, red ichor. Ange lowers her head with shame and can’t help but think that Kim would have dodged that last throw.

 

---

 

The heavy double doors of the cafeteria shut behind her. Ange has to take immediate cover behind the two tables that used to belong to the biggest and bestest students of Middleton high.  Bits of spaghetti introduce themselves to the wall behind the spot her head had been previously occupying. The lunchroom is always loud, never more so than now. The war cries of students are accompanied by the death-knells of the less fortunate. 

 

She peaks her head out from behind the table, scanning. Some students have given up completely and are just lying there. Others have overturned tables, using them as makeshift barricades. Monique is taking cover behind the buffet line. Ron is eating a chocolate cupcake off of the floor. (Ew.) Kim is busy lobbing pieces of buttered bread and pizzas around like frisbees. Ange can see the stain of milk (chocolate) on her favorite pink top. Ange would say a prayer to the poor soul who managed to land that hit, but she’s on Kim’s side for this one. 

 

Right there in the open is Donavan. The poor boy is covered head to toe in foodstuff, shirt sticking to his skinny frame as he cowers at the edge of the room. The only cover nearby is an overturned table. One that’s being used by the remaining footballers unfortunate enough to miss out on the biggest and bestest escape of Middleton High history. No way would they let Donavan join them. 

 

In fact, Ange watches in mute anger as Carson leaves his cover to lob a mushy orange into Donavan’s chest. He falls square onto his back from the force of it. Ange goes cold. 

 

From the depths of the cafeteria, something orange flashes into view. Instead of dodging back behind the table, Ange holds her hand up and catches it in her fist. A quick glance shows that it’s an… orange. Duh. She pushes off of her back leg, sprinting along the cafeteria wall. Thankfully, she’s fast enough to dive behind an overturned table before she gets pelted by anything. Unthankfully, she dives right into a group of delinquents. They all turn to stare at her. Ange scans their gazes and throws them her most charming smile-

 

“AACK!” 

 

Ange vaults over the edge of the table, covered in spaghetti and milk slop. Even though she knew she wouldn’t be able to get out of this unscathed, it’s still really, really, really gross. She slams her foot into the ground, just to fly into the air and flip over an errant banana. Mid arc, she swivels her hips, then lets her arm snap out. Her orange turns itself into orange juice (extra pulp) on the face of a delinquent. It’s as cool as she gets to look.

 

The moment she touches back down, Food hails down on her from all sides. It sticks to her hair, her clothes, and her very exposed stomach in disgustingly cold splatters. She speeds right through the middle of the fray, keeping her eyes locked on her target. Donavan has resorted to the fetal position, arms thrown above his head to protect him from a never ending barrage of spaghetti. Carson has rallied his boys to pick him off, an easy target. Ange grits her teeth and wills herself to move faster. 

 

Fortunately, running has always been her strongest talent. 

 

She crosses the cafeteria in seconds. Every stride rings her collar’s bell. Each second covers her in another layer of food. None of it matters compared to her favorite boy. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches Carson picking up an apple and the rest is instinct. She jumps the last few yards and snatches it right from the air. The impact makes her hand sting - Carson threw that with football strength. Ange lands in a roll that ends in a three point crouch. She aims, then uses her apple to knock a plastic tray out of its trajectory. The look Ange sends Carson makes him stop short. Maybe it’s because she’s scary, or maybe it’s because a girl is now between Carson and Donavan, but he and the other boys finally stop viewing him as a target. 

 

“Donavan!” Ange turns to him. He peaks out from underneath his arms to stare at her, just in time to see a noodle land in her open mouth. “Oh- ew, ew, ew, ew-” Ange splutters. A carton of milk (two percent) beans her in the back of the head. Time to focus. Ange juts her open palm down at Donavan. From his view, he can see liquid drip down her cheeks and onto her shoulders. The fluorescent lights of the cafeteria form a halo around her slop covered face. In this moment, Angelus is every bit the embodiment of her namesake. “Let's run out of the cafeteria together!” 

 

---

 

“Stop staring at me like that, Tara.”

 

“It’s just.. It really doesn’t seem like something she’d do.” 

 

“What does that even mean?”

“Well…” Tara kicks the toe of her shoe into the ground, trying her best to look at anything that isn’t Bonnie’s glare. “Ange is, like, respectful?” Her features twist into a grimace when Bonnie’s glare goes from annoyed to offended.

 

“You don’t think I’m respectful?!” Tara says nothing for so long one of Bonnie’s eyes starts twitching. Bonnie could argue the point, but the first issue was more important to clear up. “Read my lips, bestie,” She makes sure to add extra sarcasm into it. “I. Did. Not. Put. Her. In. That. Collar. She chose to put it on herself.” Something about training and Shifu-masters. If Bonnie tried to explain, it would only make Tara assume something worse. Tara opens her mouth to speak and - 

 

The doors to the cafeteria burst open.

 

Two disgusting, nasty, abominable food people stagger into the hallway and onto the floor. One of them reaches a desperate hand out in front of them, then lets it fall limply to the floor. “B-Bonnie..” It wheezes. Bonnie pulls a face when she realizes that thing is Ange. “I’m not going to make it.” That means the smaller… thing, must be Donavan. He’s worse off than Ange. At least Ange has little flashes of skin underneath all the, er, slop. Ew. “Tell my family I love them.” 

 

Besides Ange’s writhing form, Donavan lays in a daze. He tries to clean his glasses with his shirt, then just takes them off entirely. He squints at Ange for a second, then turns to look at Bonnie and Tara. From the way his eyes squint thinner, he probably can’t see them. “Uhm..” To Bonnie’s surprise, Donavan starts playing along. “Me too, Ms. Rockwaller.” He says, awkwardly. Donavan places his glasses somewhere safe. “Please inform my parents that I love them very much.” A pause. “And that I would prefer a closed casket funeral. Thank you.” After that, he lays his head down on the linoleum and stops moving. 

 

Bonnie and Tara share a glance.

 

“I’m not doing that,” Bonnie finally says. It makes the abominable Ange-slop wiggle a tantrum onto the floor.

 

“Bonnie! Not cool - Augh!” Ange props herself onto her hands and knees. Some of the food starts falling off her form. It makes her shudder with disgust. “Tara, you’re nice. Can you do it?” To Bonnie’s immense disappointment, she hears Tara’s (admittedly adorable) laughter beside her. 

 

“Sure, Angie. I’ll pass it along.” 

 

“Oh, good. I knew there was a reason I liked you.” Ange flops herself back onto the floor with a squelch. “This is so gross.”

 

Bonnie crosses her arms with as much judgement as she can manage. “You’re the one who went back in there. You can live with your mistakes.” From the floor, Ange reaches up to her face and peels some spaghetti off her forehead. The smile she gives Bonnie is as bright as the rising sun.

 

“It wasn’t a mistake.” 

 

Besides her, Donavan sniffles. “...Thank you, Angelus.”

 

“Of course, Donavan. That’s what friends are for.” It’s hard to see the subtleties of Ange’s expression under all the nasty covering her face, but Bonnie can hear hope in her voice. “We are still friends, right?” Donavan gives a small nod.

 

“Always, Angelus.”

 

Tara coos, which is dumb because she barely even knows what’s going on. Bonnie does, and she rolls her eyes at it. “Ange, this is super gross.” 

 

“You didn’t have to wait for me,” Ange says pointedly. Turquoise eyes narrow at her. This is why Bonnie doesn’t play nice.

 

“You’re right. Let's get out of here, Tara. I want off campus before it starts molding.” It gets the desired result.

 

“Wait! Don’t go-” Ange scrambles to her feet. Or - Ange tries to scramble to her feet. Her palm catches on a clump of noodles and slides out from underneath her. When she tries to recover with her other hand, it slips the opposite direction. Her face meets the linoleum with a thunk. 

 

“....I’m okay,” Ange finally mumbles into the floor. Bonnie’s lip twitches. Tara bites her own. 

 

Mr. Barkin turns the corner, marching like a soldier towards the front lines. As he stomps past the two abominable slopmen and two cheerleaders, his stride falters. “...Rockwaller,” He says, gruffly.

 

“Yes, Mr. Barkin?” Bonnie adopts an innocent tone.

 

“How bad is it?” Is that a hint of fear in his eyes? Bonnie nods her head towards Ange and Donavan. 

 

“Sir, I’m not the one to ask.”

 

“I wouldn’t go in there, Mr. Barkin,” Donavan mutters from the floor. Ange doesn’t bother looking up.

 

“I think I’m dying,” is all she says. 

 

That is definitely fear in Mr. Barkin’s eyes. He takes a breath so deep his chest threatens to pop a button off of his suit. Then, he walks over, places his massive hands on the heavy double doors to the cafeteria and pushes them open.

 

“ALRIGHT, THAT’S ENOUGH,” Mr. Barkin roars over the drone of battle. The doors start swinging shut behind him. “NO MORE OF THIS NONSENSE - OOF!” Just before the latches close, three of them catch a glimpse of an orange turning itself into orange juice (extra pulp) on his open mouth. Bonnie looks at Tara. Tara looks at Bonnie. Ange looks at Tara and Bonnie, who then look at her. Donavan, still not wearing his glasses, blinks in confusion. 

 

“We should go before he comes back out,” Tara suggests. It’s the smartest thing anyone has ever said in the halls of Middleton High. Bonnie could kiss her. 

 

---

 

On account of food related crimes, school closes for the rest of the day. Later, when Ange gets home, she’ll send her portable, automated wet-vac back to the cafeteria to help make the janitor’s life easier. She’ll also be able to spend the rest of the day in the lab. Right now, she’s enjoying the spray of a hot shower.

 

Life is good.

 

Ange leans her hand against the cool tile, letting water cascade off of her and into the drain at her feet. Steam clouds the room. Bonnie, the vice cheer captain, owns a key to the women's locker room. Fortunately, she’d taken pity on Ange and unlocked the showers so Ange could clean up. Finally, Ange is freeing herself of spaghetti slop. Donavan is her friend again. She probably won over a lot of the popular kids. Bonnie even lent her a bottle of bodywash. 

 

Life is very good.

 

Somewhere in the distance, Ange hears the sound of a door opening. She ignores the noise, focusing on relaxing herself. Her head lolls underneath the spray with a content sigh.

 

“Oh, hey Ange,” Kim says behind her. Ange blinks her eyes open and turns around. There’s pieces of spaghetti in Kim’s hair. She had the same idea too. 

 

“Hi, Kim." Ange grins. “Did you have fun earlier-” The wind is ripped from her throat when Monique walks into the showers. Dried milk flakes off her body. Her very naked, beautiful body. Then Jessica walks in, followed by Hope, Marcella, Crystal - oh, lord, it's the entire cheerleading squad, sans Bonnie and Tara. All of them are covered in various amounts of food. They’re also very naked, and very beautiful. Ange turns back around and stares at the tile wall. 

 

“I cannot believe that just happened,” Ange hears Liz say behind her. “I thought food fights only happened in cartoons.” Many showers turn on, splashing over very beautiful, naked bodies Ange refuses to look at. “Or, like, web novels.” 

 

“Lets hope it never happens again,” Jessica replies. “I had a seaweed wrap last night and all this grease on my skin is totally going to undo it.” Very beautiful, naked skin. 

 

“Oh no,” Crystal says. “Now you’ll need to go get your body wrapped at the spa again. The horror.” Very beautiful, naked body- Okay, that’s enough. Ange is too gay, she correctly concludes. It's making her stupid. She reaches forwards and shuts off the water valve. It’s definitely time to go. She makes it half way across the shower floor when someone calls her name.

 

“Hey, Ange!” Ange freezes, gathers herself, and turns around to see Liz watching her. Ange puts on her most unreadable smile and maintains eye contact. “That thing with the tables was pretty cool.” Oh, right. The entire school probably witnessed that - except for the lucky few who ate in the library. “Just, like, make sure I’m in there next time, alright?”

 

Kim reaches over to squeeze her shoulder. There’s pride shining in her green eyes. It makes everything worth it. “Me too, please.”

 

“I-” Ange clears her throat. “I’ll try my best to send out an invite.” She says, sounding very normal. “But I’m with Jessica on this one. Let’s not have a redo.” The girls hum in agreement. Ange uses the lull in conversation to make her escape. 

 

She makes her way from the showers into the locker room proper. Bonnie and Tara are having a conversation by one of the benches. Their backpacks are packed up so they can leave quicker. It was nice that they waited for her. Water dripping off of Ange wicks the heat from her body. She’s forced to hunch her shoulders and shiver until a fluffy white towel drapes over the top of her head. Her world becomes florals and spice. When Ange looks up, she comes face to face with beautiful turquoise eyes. “Return this to me tomorrow morning,” Bonnie tells her. Ange pulls the towel off of her hair and nods to hide how her heart flips in her chest. Bonnie is way nicer than she lets anyone believe. “And wear the blue dress.” Very bossy, though.

 

“As the queen commands,” Ange quips, toweling herself dry. It makes Bonnie smirk. 

 

The only change of clothes Ange has is her mission gear. It’s more her style. She steps one of long legs into the fabric of her black joggers, too busy getting dressed to notice the way she’s being stared at. The sound of footsteps catches her attention. Tara’s come over to join them, resting her cute chin on Bonnie’s shoulder. The two cheerleaders together are lovely to look at. 

 

“Hey Angie?” Tara says. She nuzzles her cheek against Bonnie. Another act of casual intimacy, Ange concludes. Bonnie doesn’t even seem to notice it, except to tilt her head so Tara has better access. “I’ve been meaning to ask this for a while now.” Ange steps her other leg in and cinches up her pants. “What’s, like, your workout routine? I’m really digging the abs.” Ange wouldn’t have been able to keep the grin off of her face for a million dollars. That experiment was definitely fucking worth it.

 

“I run a lot.” And the missions. And the training her Shifu puts her through. “And I have some really good genes,” Ange replies ironically. After her sports bra goes on, she picks up her leather collar and buckles it around her neck. This time, she does notice how the girls are staring at her. When she tilts her head curiously at them, Bonnie looks at Tara and gestures towards Ange.

 

“Uh, second question,” Tara says.

 

“Shoot.”

 

“What’s up with the collar?” There’s a brief moment of silence before Tara continues quickly. “Not that you aren’t cute in it! It’s kind of fetching on you.” That’s nice to hear. Tara is quickly becoming one of her favorites. Ange’s blue eyes regard Tara, then she looks at Bonnie’s perfect face.

 

There is definitely some kind of a misunderstanding going on here.

 

“Oh, It’s so no big.” Bonnie’s eyes go wide when she sees the look Ange is wearing. “I’m just going through some pretty strict and intense training- WOOF!” Bonnie’s backpack turns itself into backpack juice (extra backpack) on her open mouth. 

 

Worth it. 

Chapter 39: Chapter 39

A hand reaches out in front of Bonnie and grasps the handle to the front door to Middleton High. She traces her gaze along a slender and nicely muscled arm all the way up to Ange’s face. There are bags under Ange’s blue eyes, and her bangs are sticking up at a weird angle over her forehead. Despite that, Ange is grinning at her with amusement.

 

“Good morning, Bonnie.” Ange says, pulling the door open and watching her - always watching her. Bonnie steps through the threshold, immediately enjoying how much warmer it is inside.

 

“Hi, Angie,” Bonnie grumps. Tara had given her so much shit last night thanks to Ange. She’s going to be extra strict applying makeup today. She hears footsteps behind her, and glances over her shoulder to take Ange in. She’s wearing the blue dress Bonnie told her to. Sleeveless, to show off her arms, cinched at the waist, to show the curve of her hips, and plunging low enough to tease some cleavage. Bonnie had tried going lower last Saturday. That’s when she’d discovered a direct correlation between how low Ange’s neckline is to how confident she appears. “It’s nice to see you on time. For once.”

 

Ange chuckles softly, following Bonnie towards the gymnasium. “I don’t do this for just anyone,” She says, echoing words Bonnie had said to her. “I don’t know how you manage to wake up before seven in the morning every day.”

 

Bonnie’s eyes drift lower and she hesitates mid stride. "It’s easy,” Bonnie says, openly staring. The dress ended well above Ange’s knees. She’d picked it specifically to showcase Ange’s legs. The black lace thigh highs were something Bonnie definitely did not pick out for Ange. Infinitely more interesting were the black lace garter suspenders that secured them in place. They flash underneath Ange’s skirt every time she moves her legs. It… isn’t a bad choice. Bonnie decides to allow it. Ange looks delectable. “I just wake up at four.”

 

The look of horror on Ange’s face makes Bonnie snort.

 

“...That’s when I go to bed on the weekends,” Bonnie hears Ange mumble. Now it’s her turn to stare in horror.

 

The gymnasium is big and empty enough to throw around the echoes of their footsteps. It takes Bonnie a moment to realize the chimes on Ange’s neck are less consistent today. Is it really possible to walk without setting that bell off? - Augh, Bonnie isn’t going to think about it. That stupid catchphrase would pop into her head. 

 

“Sit,” Bonnie points at the bleacher benches. Ange sits. Satisfaction curls warm against Bonnie’s ribcage as she fishes out her cosmetics set.

 

Ange is a natural beauty. Her entire face is a synthesis of sloping arches and sharp points. High cheekbones that lead down to a defined, delicate jawline. A nose that bends at the crest. Pouty and soft lips that looked suited for kissing. Her eyes tilt downwards, two smooth curves that end in dramatic acumination. 

 

And they were. So. Blue. 

 

When Bonnie had been a young child, her mother had taken her out of their home in Colorado and to the west. They’d rented a car and driven from the tip of North California all the way down to the border of Mexico. It was honestly a stupid decision to bring a kid that young on a road trip that long. Bonnie had spent half of her time restlessly crawling around in the backseat until her mother would get annoyed enough to let her sit on the front passenger side (this trip was likely why Bonnie had never been invited to another). Despite all of it, that trip had been a gift. It was the first, and the only time she had gotten to see the ocean. For a solid month, Bonnie had the luxury to gaze out the window and see how many shades of blue it could offer her. On the last day of her trip, Bonnie had stood her little feet in the sand and looked across that vast horizon, staring into the deepest blue the water could ever offer her.

 

She sees it now, too, in the irises of her newest friend.

 

The silence lasts for a long time before Bonnie realizes she’s stopped moving. It almost makes her panic. The fact that Ange hasn’t said a word stops her short.

 

Interesting.

 

“Ange?” Bonnie says. The spell breaks. Ange blinks her eyes a few times. Bonnie can see the many cogs in her head start turning back on. It makes Bonnie raise a perfectly manicured eyebrow. “Something on your mind?” Her voice is one octave lower than normal, teasing. Ange starts to fidget. Bonnie can see her cheeks flush ever so slightly. It was kind of cute.

 

“Oh- uhm.” Ange’s hands curl in her lap. Is that a tell? “It’s nothing important. You can keep going.”

 

“Fill me in anyway,” Bonnie says, but it’s a demand. She picks up where she left off as Ange responds.

 

“I was just looking at your eyes. They’re really beautiful,” Ange mumbles, looking down. It means she misses the surprise that flashes across Bonnie’s face. “That’s weird to say, right? I don’t actually know.”

 

Bonnie’s lips curl upwards. “Mega weird,” she says. Ange huffs once, eyebrows pulling together. 

 

“But it’s the truth?!” Ange’s hands gesture back and forth. “Why is telling the truth like that weird?”

 

“Because it means you’re paying too much attention,” Bonnie answers her, fitting a puzzle piece into place. Ange looks back at Bonnie, startled to get a response that makes sense. “So don’t go around telling just anyone that, alright?” 

 

“Alright.” Ange falls deep into thought. It means Bonnie can paint her face quicker. Ange is still thinking by the time Bonnie’s finished, frowning and staring through the floor. Bonnie reaches her hand out and tucks some copper brown hair behind Ange’s ear. 

 

“I think you have pretty eyes, too,” Bonnie admits. It’s only to get Ange to stop looking like that. It works. Ange's attention snaps back onto Bonnie, searching her face. Bonnie lets herself preen under the careful scrutiny. “I told you I don’t hang out with ugly people.” She hops to her feet, making her purple cheer skirt flutter around her. “Now, come on. Class is gonna start any minute.”

 

She doesn’t bother looking back as she exits the gymnasium. She knows Ange will follow her.

 

---

 

Donavan is at Ange’s locker when they get there. His blonde hair is a ruffled mop laying atop his head. His glasses are thick enough to hide his eyes. His white button up shirt is starch straight. There’s a fucking pocket protector in his breast pocket. What the hell did Ange see in him?

 

Bonnie stops walking and posts up by a wall some few feet away. Ange walks past her with a big smile. “Good morning, Donavan!” Ange says, happy as a clam. Donavan turns his scruffy head towards her and nods his head.

 

“Good morning, Angelus,” Donavan says. “Did you read the rebuttal that MIT dropped on the anti-matter gen-” He catches sight of Bonnie and falls silent. Bonnie leans her shoulder against a locker and narrows her eyes at him. Ange opens her locker and doesn’t notice. 

 

“You know I did.” Ange disappears behind the metal door. “But it came a little late. Someone already figured it out.” Ange slides her book out and into her pack.

 

Donavan jerks his head towards Ange, losing the staring contest. Bonnie clicks her tongue. “What?!” It’s the loudest she’s ever heard Donavan go. 

 

“Oh yeah,” Ange hikes her backpack over a single, sturdy shoulder. “Dr. Drakken built one, and then he built a reality-void generator to account for the reality warping.” Donavan’s jaw is hanging wide open. Ange looks amused by him before turning towards Bonnie. Ange makes it all the way back to her when Donavan finally speaks again.

 

“A-Angelus.” 

 

“Hmm?” 

 

“Class is the other way.”

 

“Bonnie still needs her textbook,” Ange points out. Then, she drops a hand over Bonnie’s shoulder that warms her through the fabric of her shirt. Bonnie lowers her chin and smirks at the boy until he takes a step backwards. Good. Go away.

 

“Oh,” Donavan says lamely. There’s a moment of thought before he starts walking towards them. The smirk slides right off of Bonnie’s face. “Alright. Let’s go then.” 

 

“Hmph.” Bonnie turns around with a flick of her hair, tugging Ange along. Out of the corner of her eye, she catches Ange looking back and forth between them. As they walk, the arm around her back pulls her closer. Bonnie turns her head to question it and she sees Donavan walking besides Ange’s other shoulder. Dark heat spreads through Bonnie’s veins. Before she can fully form a scowl, a forehead presses against her own. 

 

Two blue oceans are staring warmly at her.

 

“Thanks for not saying anything mean,” Ange whispers so quietly only Bonnie can hear. Bonnie’s mouth drops open. They’re close enough that she can almost taste the chocolate sweet spice. Then Ange straightens back up and stops walking. They’d made it to her locker without her noticing. 

 

“I’m just keeping my end of the deal,” Bonnie sniffs out, unlocking her door. “And next time you’re going to make an alteration to one of my outfits, run it by me first.” Bonnie pulls out her textbook. Ange reaches over her shoulder and wraps her hand around the spine of it but she only takes it when Bonnie lets her. 

 

“Sorry, it was really cold this morning.” Ange sticks one of her long, lace clad legs out. Bonnie’s textbook is tucked against her chest with one arm. A boy down the hallway trips and faceplants against a wall. If Bonnie felt like teaching her, Ange could be a real maneater. “You don’t like it?”

 

“Don’t make assumptions, Angie.” Bonnie can see Donavan observing them. She looks away from him. He doesn’t matter. What does matter is jabbing her finger in Ange’s (athletic) side. "It's rude.” The yelp Ange makes draws a cruel smile across her lips. She examines her nails all the way to class. 

 

---

 

Ange finds herself sitting on top of her desk, one leg crossed over the other, five minutes before the start of Chemistry class. Bonnie is sitting beside her, letting Tara rest her head on top of her lap. Slender fingers and groomed nails are running along Tara’s scalp. Ange isn’t sure if she’s happy to be watching this adorable display, or jealous that she’s not part of it. All she knows is that she’s never seen Tara look so content in her life.

 

“Do you guys know what you’re going to be for Halloween yet?” Clover, one of Bonnie’s friends, asks. She’s vibrating in her chair. 

 

“That’s not for another month and a half,” Madison says. 

 

“I know. It’s only a month and a half!” Ange notices that Clover has her nails painted black and orange. “I’m thinking I might be a banana.” All of the girls look at Clover. Ange nods with approval. “Or maybe a tube of toothpaste? I don’t know, there are so many options.”

 

“Clover… What?” Bonnie’s hand has stopped moving. She’s looking at Clover with legitimate confusion. 

 

“I was just thinking, I’ve been something scary for like, the last ten Halloweens. Why not change it up this time?”

 

“You could be a sexy banana,” Tara says from Bonnie’s lap. She grips Bonnie’s hand and starts rubbing it against her head until Bonnie starts petting her again. “Or a sexy toothpaste. Sexy costumes are in.”

 

“Ooooh, that’s a good idea.” Clover pulls out a piece of paper and starts drawing down a crude idea. Bonnie turns to look at Ange like she doesn’t know what’s going on. Ange chews on her bottom lip so she doesn’t start laughing. Instead, she just gives Bonnie a slow nod. Yes, this is actually happening.

 

“I think I’ll be the headless horseman,” Madison says. “The sexy headless horsewoman.” 

 

“Who are you going to get to be the horse?” Clover asks, not looking up from her scribbling. Madison lets out a cocky little laugh.

 

“My boyfriend, of course.” She waggles her eyebrows at the group. “And then I’ll ride him-”

 

“Madison, don’t be gross,” Bonnie scolds her. “Unless he’s as hung as one, I don’t want to know.”

 

“Well…”

 

“We’re moving along now,” Her Majesty, The Queen, Bonnibel Rockwaller declares. Her subjects nod in relief - besides Madison, who looks like she wanted to brag a little more. “I’m not sure what I’m going to be yet.” Bonnie says to keep the conversation flowing. “What about you, Tara?”

 

“Oh, good question…” Tara opens her eyes. She looks like she’s seconds away from falling asleep. “But since sexy is in…" Her mouth widens into a smile as she lands on her costume idea. "I’ll go as the playboy bunny.” Ange’s brain decides to picture it in her head, and then it stops working. 

 

“Hmmm,” Bonnie nods her head, also imagining it. “Then I’ll go as a sexy cat. We can match.” Tara lets out an excited little squeal. The pair grin at each other. Ange’s brain restarts just in time to conjure the two of them in matching costumes... Maybe god does exist, and he’s giving her a miracle as a reward for all of her good deeds throughout her life. Ange should do more of them for more rewards. Or does doing good for a reward negate the good deed? But, the good happens anyway, so isn’t the world a better place regardless? Thus, doing the good deed for a reward is ultimately still a good deed. Or would that mean-

 

Fingers snap in front of her face, bringing her back to reality.

 

“Earth to Ange! Hello?” Bonnie waves her hand in front of her. When Ange looks up, all of the girls are looking at her. “What is going on in your head? I’ve called your name five times.”

 

“I was pondering the existence of a higher power, and if doing good in the name of it for a reward is truly a good deed, or an act of selfishness,” Ange answers her truthfully. It takes Bonnie a second to process her words. Then, Bonnie closes her eyes and sighs.

 

“Angie,” Bonnie says, sounding extremely tired. “Just tell me what you’re going to be for Halloween.”

 

Ange decides not to tell Bonnie she hasn’t thought about it. It seems like Bonnie has been through a lot already. Instead, she says the first thing that comes to mind. “Werewolf.” That makes Madison nod.

 

“Sick, Possible.”

 

“I’m really healthy, though.”

 

Madison’s face falls. “No, I meant-” 

 

Ange lets herself grin. “I’m just messing with you. I know what it means.”

 

“You are such a little shit.” Madison mutters, rolling her eyes. Ange sees the smile she’s trying to keep off her face. 

 

“This is stupid,” Bonnie declares. “This conversation is stupid. I feel like I am now stupid because I listened to it.” 

 

“Language,” Ange says after a moment of silence. Bonnie reaches over and flicks her on the shoulder.

 

“Alright class,” Mrs. Tomic calls out to everyone as she hustles through the door. “Back to your seats. Go on.” Ange hasn’t seen Bonnie look relieved that class is actually starting until today. She slides off of Ange’s desk, rubbing her forehead. After Bonnie has made it to her desk, she sits down at her seat next to Brick.

 

Brick rests an arm on the back of Bonnie’s chair.  Ange’s good mood sours instantly. She slides onto her seat and stares down at the table.

 

“We’re having a test on Friday,” Mrs. Tomic announces from the front of the class. The entire class lets out one, large groan. The entire class, minus Ange. She’s too busy watching Brick out of the corner of her eye. “Don’t give me that attitude. I’m giving you the test so you don’t have to worry about homework this weekend.” Some of the students perk up at that. It’s a cruel, but fair trade. “Now, let's open up our textbooks to chapter three and talk about the states of matter…” 

 

Her flip phone buzzes in her pocket. When she opens it, she sees a message from Bonnie.

 

”Help us study for this, Possible.”

 

Us? Ange raises an eyebrow at that, until a number she hasn’t seen before sends them a text.

 

”OMG, yes please. i do not want another C- :c”

 

Oh! Ange grins like a banshee. This is her first ever group chat. Yippee! Ange types in her message.

 

”Okie dokie. When and where?”

 

”thank you <3 MVP”  Says the unfamiliar number.

 

”Mine. Tomorrow. After school.” Says Bonnie.

 

”Let’s make it five. I have matheletes until four thirty in the afternoon.” Ange says.

 

”Gross. Fine.”

 

“What’s so interesting, Ms. Possible?” Mrs. Tomic’s voice makes Ange look up from her phone. She doesn’t look particularly happy. 

 

“Mrs. Tomic, I apologize.” Ange gives her a charming smile and flips her phone shut with an audible snap. She makes sure Mrs. Tomic can see her slide it under her desk. “I got too caught up scheduling a study date with some other students. It was rude of me to do so during class.” 

 

Mrs. Tomic regards her for a moment, then lets out an approving noise. “As long as you don’t do it again, Ms. Possible. Thank you for offering a helping hand.” The entire class stares at her in disbelief. Anybody else would have had their phone confiscated for such an offense. Ange isn’t surprised. When you’re a good student, even the teachers make excuses for you. She does make sure to sit up straight and pay attention for the rest of the lecture, though. 

 

---

 

Bonnie runs a hand through her hair and wonders how she ended up becoming friends with Middleton High’s biggest and bestest teacher's pet. 

Notes:

This chapter is funny bc it started as a character study and ended up silly

Chapter 40: Chapter 40

Notes:

Wowie, I hit chapter 40! Maybe next chapter I'll draw something to celebrate it. fingers crossed my carpal tunnel doesn't flare up again.

Concrete and metal explode inwards in chunks. Ash and dust trails after them. Fire settles into the corners and floors, fighting vainly against the sprinkler system that immediately kicks in. In his cell, Dr. Drakken scrambles to the point farthest away from the blast, huddling against the corner. Water makes his hair stick to his face. His eyes, soulless and black, reflect the bright and dying flames. A foot steps through the cloud of ash, splashing into a forming puddle. He stares in awed relief as the figure gets closer. Electric green plasma whispers along dangerous fingers.

 

“Shego!” His voice is wet with relief. “I knew you’d break me out!”

 

A clawed hand reaches down and yanks him by the collar of his orange jumpsuit. He comes face to face with the eyes of a predator. Shego’s eyes glow when she uses her powers. The spraying water starts to drip down her forehead. Each drop reflects the bright green simmering behind her pupils. “What did we learn?” Shego says, teeth flashing with the movement of her lips.

 

“N-not to eat the mystery meat at the cafeteria?”

 

“What- no!” Shego stands at her full height, lugging the man onto his feet. “Don’t give your weapons away in the middle of a heist, you nitwit.” She gestures around at the room, the blaring alarms, and the last flame that finally sputters out of existence. “Or you end up here! And I have to come save your sorry ass!”

 

“Language,” Drakken mutters unhappily. When Shego jerks her body towards him, he flinches backwards. “I mean- Yes! Yes, we did learn this lesson. No giving up the weapons.” Shego pins him in place with her stare for a long, long moment. The spray of water running down her body starts to turn into steam as her internal temperature rises. It licks up into the air, obscuring her in transparent haze. 

 

Without looking, she holds her hand behind her and shoots a bolt of plasma. It smashes the ground right in front of a group of guards sprinting towards them, then explodes in a splash of green. The men fly backwards to land in an unconscious heap at the other end of the hallway. Finally, she looks away. 

 

Dr. Drakken lets out a long gasp of relief, finally able to breathe. Then he starts a scramble, chasing after his savior as she picks her way through the carnage with swift and graceful strides. Her feet fall along the floor and each step makes no noise.

 

---

 

Thursday morning arrives with brilliant sunlight. Likely, this will be the last nice day of the season before fall fully takes hold. A remnant of summer. Bonnie puts her phone back into her pocket and leans against the railing of the tallest roof of Middleton high. The sunrise casts shades of pink in the sky. Light fragments off the leaves of the canopy forest behind the school. She rests her chin on her hand, smiling.

 

Five minutes later, she hears the chime of a bell.

 

“It’s about time, Possible-” Bonnie pushes off the railing and turns around to an empty rooftop. Her head tilts to the side, puzzled. Especially when she hears another ding.. ling.. ling.. with no visible origin. Bonnie walks towards the sound, feet crunching along gravel. It’s coming from the front side of the school. The downtown skyline is all she can see. “Angie?”

 

“One sec!” Ange replies from somewhere. Bonnie furrows her brow. She follows the noise all the way to the railing. Just as she wraps her hands around the metal, Ange’s face pops out right in front of her with a bright smile. “Hi Bonnie!”

 

“-Wah!” Bonnie trips backwards in steps. Her arms flail with an attempt to keep her balance. 

 

Ange vaults over the railing and stalks after her with a calm stride and a steady gaze. Ange, the dolt, is grinning at her. Before Bonnie can fully tip over, a pair of strong hands wrap around her hips, steadying her. “Sorry,” Ange says, not sounding sorry. “I didn’t mean to scare you that badly.” It takes a beat for Bonnie to collect herself.

 

“Ange!?” She holds her palms up towards the sky. “What the hell?” It makes Ange’s warm eyes squint at her. Bonnie narrows her own. “You are so funny, Possible.” 

 

“Thanks,” Ange says to her, ignoring her sarcasm. Asshole. “I’m glad you wanted to meet up here today. It’s beautiful out.” Bonnie can’t help but notice that Ange hasn’t looked at anything but her yet. She decides not to chew Ange out. Then a thought hits her. 

 

She looks at the railing, the downtown skyline, and the open air between it. “Did you just climb up here?” 

 

“Yeah?” That’s genuine confusion from Ange. “How else do you get up here?” Bonnie feels her face scrunch up incredulously. 

 

“The door, you moron.” She points at it for good measure. Ange blinks at it owlishly for a second or two. Bonnie can see her start to suck on her teeth. Good, she should feel stupid. Bonnie lifts her hand and swipes a finger across the bell on Ange’s neck. It rings for her. “I can’t take you anywhere. You’re a feral dog.” 

 

“Woof.” 

 

Bonnie lids her eyes, letting her expression convey the snark. Unfortunately, that just makes Ange look more amused, which is super annoying. “I should put a leash on you,” Bonnie says. “So I can finally stop you from acting like such a freak.” Ange raises a (finally) manicured eyebrow with intrigue.

 

“Bonnie,” Ange stares and challenges her. “You couldn’t handle me.”

 

Oh, they were so going there. “Please,” Bonnie scoffs, digging the nails of both her hands underneath the jut of Ange’s clavicles. She can feel Ange tense underneath her fingertips. “I could take you in my sleep, Possible.” There’s a moment of silence between them. Her fingers grow warm on Ange’s neckline. 

 

Bonnie sees Ange decide to respond to her provocation. 

 

The hands on her hips - how long had they been there? - tighten around her. Not hard enough to bruise, but hard enough that Bonnie finds herself unable to move in any direction. Her eyes widen, her fingers curl to grip at Ange’s shirt. Ange maintains eye contact between them and starts walking. She presses unshakably forward, sure as the rising tide. Like an unmoored vessel, Bonnie can only let it wash her away.  Gravel sprays around their shoes as Bonnie starts stumbling backwards. Never falling, Ange wouldn’t let her fall. Bonnie starts gasping at the sudden and deliberate display of physical dominance. Just when Bonnie begins getting overwhelmed, they stop. 

 

Bonnie’s mind is left reeling, helpless. Slowly, carefully, Bonnie feels Ange press her against the door of the roof. She’d worn her favorite teal cropped jacket and a white crop top today. She can feel how cold the surface is on the bare skin of her back. All Bonnie can see is Ange’s eyes paying too much attention to her. She’s testing my boundaries, Bonnie realizes distantly. She hasn’t reached them yet. Abruptly, there’s a distinct lack of pressure on her hips. Why did Ange let her go? 

 

Ange traps both of Bonnie’s wrists in a cage of long fingers. They’re pulled above her head with gentle, unyielding strength. Ange pins them to the wall with one hand then presses their foreheads together. Their breathing intermingles. Blue and turquoise regard each other.

 

“Only if I let you,” Ange says, smirking. Bonnie gets deja vu. 

 

“I’ll take your eyes out,” Bonnie says, falling into the familiar pattern. It elicits a noise of delight from somewhere in Ange’s throat. “Both of them,” Bonnie adds, smiling when it gets Ange to start giggling. Ange’s eyes close when she laughs. Her nose scrunches at the spot below her brow. So close together, Bonnie notices all of it. Warmth fills her chest. Satisfaction that she can make Ange shine so bright. She lets Ange calm down before she speaks again. “Are you going to let me go now?” It makes Ange look at her again, scanning her face. 

 

“...Don’t wanna,” Ange eventually says. Bonnie wonders what Ange sees on her that makes Ange say that. Then she wonders if Ange is testing her boundaries again, or why Ange still hasn’t reached them. It makes her click her tongue. What a brat. 

 

“I haven’t put your makeup on,” Bonnie reminds her. Ange pulls a face, pouting.

 

“Do you need to?” 

 

“No.” Bonnie says. “Not really. But I like doing it.” 

 

“Oh,” Ange lowers her eyes in thought. Her lashes flutter against her cheek. 

 

“Alright, what do you want?” Bonnie asks, sighing in impatience. For some reason, Ange goes statue still in front of her. Another tell? The hand clasping her wrists lets them go. Bonnie lets them fall to her sides, regarding Ange curiously. 

 

Bonnie’s mind screeches to a halt as a finger traces a line onto her stomach.

 

Her face flushes a brilliant red. Her abdomen flexes, searing hot. Ange’s finger freezes in place at the fluctuation. “Angie - what?” Bonnie manages to choke out, so breathless it surprises her. 

 

“Sorry,” Ange says quickly, watching her again. Sometimes it felt like Ange wanted to pin her down and dissect her. “I should have asked first.” Ange pulls her head away and takes a deliberate step backwards, hiding her hands behind her back. “You have a pretty tummy, and I thought - since you did it to me.. Uhm, that was okay?”

 

What the fuck is wrong with this girl?

 

“One, don’t do that to anyone else,” Bonnie orders her. She runs her hand against her stomach, still feeling the stripe of heat Ange had painted the skin. It was making it hard for her to think coherently. Bonnie would manage, though. She always does. “Two, don’t say ‘tummy’, you absolute weirdo.” Bonnie takes a step forward, pushing herself into Ange’s personal space. “And Three, you’re right,” She has to crane her neck to look at her - was Ange getting taller? That kind of pisses her off. Bonnie reaches her hand up and jabs her fingernail against the bottom of Ange’s jaw grumpily. Because she’s touching Ange, she can feel the shakiness of Ange’s inhale. “Next time, ask me. Got it?” Confusingly, Ange breaks out into a smile.

 

“You’ll let me do that again?”

 

Oops. Bonnie turns away so Ange can’t see the red on her cheeks, stomping over to her backpack. She pulls out a hairbrush and wields it at Ange like a sword. “Just sit down already! Your hair is a mess.” Ange sits. Bonnie gets to work, glaring a hole into the back of Ange’s skull.

 

If she’s extra rough with Ange today, Ange only has herself to blame. 

 

---

 

“This actually makes perfect sense,” Donavan says.

 

It’s Thursday afternoon at four fifteen. Ange and Donavan just finished practicing the speed rounds for the next matheletes meet (which Ange nailed, yippee). And Ange just told Donavan that she liked girls, like, a lot.  Ange gapes at him, hope and surprise warring with each other. “It- It does?” Her voice shakes just a little. Something heavy is debating flying away. Its talons are still digging into her shoulders. Donavan adjusts his glasses on his nose, nodding slowly. Otherwise, he’s unreadable… To anyone that doesn’t know Donavan very well. Ange can tell he’s thinking big thoughts.

 

“I’m happy for you,” Donavan finally says. The smile he gives her is real, and it’s warm. The heavy thing flaps massive wings and soars off into the sky. Ange sags in her chair, blinking rapidly at her stinging eyes. 

 

“Thanks, Donavan.” Ange tucks her knees up against her chest. “That really means a lot.” She lets herself sway back and forth, trying to vent the energy that’s starting to bubble inside of her. 

 

Donavan reaches over and gives her shoulder a reassuring pat. “Ms. Rockwaller is an awful choice for a crush.”

 

Ange stops swaying. 

 

“Who said anything - a crush - what- Crush?? Why do you assume I have a crush on her!?” First Kim, then Donavan. Who’s next, Tara? “I don’t, by the way. So write that in your psychological profile of me.” Right in front of her, Donavan pulls out a notebook titled ‘Angelus’ psychological profile - sophomore year’ and starts writing something down. He speaks as he goes.

 

“Angelus is willing to admit her wants, but not her desires. An interesting juxtaposition that will need further study-”

 

“Oh my god!” Ange jumps right onto her feet and shoves her fists onto her hips. “Donavan,” she scolds. Donavan doesn’t look one bit put off by it. “I do not. Like. Her.” 

 

Donavan puts his pen down and turns his full attention to her. “Do you think she’s pretty?”

 

“...It’s Bonnie, Donavan.”

 

“Touché. Do you enjoy spending your time with her?”

“She’s my friend! Of course I do.”

 

“Do you think of her often?”

 

“Yeah? So what? That doesn’t prove anything.” Ange finishes her statement off with a little ‘psha’ for good measure. Infuriatingly, Donavan picks his pen back up and starts writing something down in his notebook. He doesn’t say what, this time. “Donavan!” Ange whines. Her hands gesture up and down, at all of him. “Why?!” Is all she can manage to say. For once, her brilliant mind isn’t able to find a defense. At least he has the decency to give her a pitying look. Good, being pitiful meant being treated with mercy.

 

“Everyone that’s attracted to women gets a crush on Ms. Rockwaller,” Donavan tells her. It makes Ange blink at him a few times, stupidly. “It’s a right of passage, getting over it.” 

 

“...So, you had a crush on Bonnie?”

“Oh yes, in the second grade.” Donavan slides her psychological profile back into his backpack. “The only time Ms. Rockwaller has acknowledged my presence has been during this year, when she’s been seeking your company.” Donavan pauses. Ange can see him thinking big thoughts again. “At the very least, you’ve gotten farther than most.”

 

“What does that mean? I told you, I don’t have a crush on her.”

 

“It means you managed to become her friend. Congratulations.” Once more, he adjusts his glasses. “And good luck.” Ange rolls her eyes.

 

Donavan and his dramatics.

Chapter 41: Chapter 41

Her sisters are waiting by the doorway, eyeing her with disguised contempt. Bonnie learned to ignore it back in the fourth grade. Unless they speak it into existence, it doesn't matter. Bonnie is sitting on top of the kitchen counter, watching her mother run back and forth through the hallway.

 

“Oh, where did I leave my swimsuit?” Bonnie’s mother speaks to herself as she dashes back into her bedroom. Her suitcase is half open on the floor by the doorway. Connie, Lonnie, and Bonnie all roll their eyes simultaneously. That doesn’t stop Connie from reaching down into the case to pull out a simple, black one piece.

 

“Mom, it’s right here.” She lets it hang off her fingers by the strap like a prize. Their mother pokes her head out, then breaks into a wide smile.

 

“There it is! My goodness.” Their mom flutters back towards the doorway to give Connie a nice, warm hug. “I don’t know what I would do without you girls.”

 

Connie smiles, and it’s real for once. “Miss out on the snorkeling,” Connie says. Her, and Lonnie’s luggage is already packed and stowed in the trunk of the black Cadillac Escalade idling in the driveway. “Or, like, buy one of those awful suits at the gift shop.”

 

Everyone gags at the thought.

 

“That should be everything, then.” The last suitcase gets zipped up. Their mom gives one excited hop, and the three of them exit the front door. “Bonnie, come say goodbye.” Her mother’s voice sounds from the outside.

 

“Coming,” Bonnie says loud enough to carry. She slides off the kitchen counter and looks around the empty house. It would be empty for the next three weeks. Three weeks of no supervision. Most importantly, three weeks where she doesn’t have to deal with Lonnie and Connie. She walks out the door smiling. “I hope you have a lot of fun.” As she approaches the car, her mother reaches over and pulls her into a hug.

 

“Thank you, dear. Next time I go, I’ll be sure to take you,” Bonnie’s mother says. Bonnie won’t hold her breath. She wraps her arms around her mother and gives her a quick squeeze. 

 

“Don’t worry, Bonnie,” Lonnie’s voice breaks Bonnie’s pleasant mood. “We’ll take lots of pictures for you.” She’s leaning against the car, turquoise eyes piercing towards Bonnie. 

 

“That’s so nice of you,” Bonnie replies, sugar sweet. Her eyes narrow. Her smile flashes her canines. “Make sure someone explains how a camera works this time.” Lonnie has to fight to keep her smile civil. The ring of a bicycle bell interrupts the growing tension.

 

“Hi Bonnie -Oh,” Ange says from a distance away. She swings her legs over the body of her bike and lets it glide to a gentle stop right in front of their house. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. Sorry.”

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Bonnie says. Maybe Ange’s presence will make her sisters leave sooner. 

 

Maybe not. Bonnie’s mother watches Ange engage her kickstand curiously. The bike is old and dented, but her clothes are lovely. Bonnie’s mother is probably still figuring out what to think of Ange. Bonnie mentally thanks herself for making Ange wear the red blouse, black pleated trousers, and the matching black heels today. What should she make her Angie wear tomorrow…?

 

Bonnie watches with intrigue as Ange puts on her most charming smile, walks over to her mother and holds out her hand to shake. “It’s really nice to meet another one of Bonnie’s sisters!” Ange says. Her mother’s mouth drops in surprise. Bonnie, Lonnie, and Connie settle for widening their eyes. “My name is Angelus. But please, call me Ange.” 

 

“Diya, my dear!” Their mother bypasses Ange’s hand to sweep her up in a hug. Instead of tensing, it makes Ange giggle. Then, Bonnie watches as Ange lets her eyes turn into ice over Diya’s shoulder. She’s looking at Connie and Lonnie. Her sisters can’t even say anything about it. Bonnie chews on her lip to obscure her smile. “I’m her mother,” Diya laughs with delight. As they pull apart, Ange’s face molds back into warmth. 

 

“Sorry, I couldn’t tell,” Ange pats Diya’s arm. Diya is glowing. “I hope you have fun on… well, it looks like you’re going on a trip.”

 

“Straight to Thailand,” Diya says. Ange sounds appropriately awed. Bonnie pops her hip to the side and re-evaluates Ange for the millionth time. “I’d love to stay and chat, but our flight is leaving in an hour. We’re cutting it close already.”

 

“No worries.” When Ange turns to look at Bonnie, there’s a smug little curl at the corner of her lips. She walks over and rests a warm hand on Bonnie’s shoulder. “I’ll make sure Bonnie stays out of trouble while you’re gone. We’re just about to study for a test tomorrow,” Ange says, further solidifying herself into Diya’s good graces. Ange actually waves at them as the black Cadillac pulls out onto the road and drives away. Bonnie turns and stares at Ange until Ange looks at her.

 

“You know, Angie,” Bonnie eventually says, laying her head on Ange’s shoulder. “I used to think you acted like a dog. Or maybe like, a cute little bunny?” Ange tightens her arm around her, drinking in every expression on Bonnie’s face. Bonnie makes sure to observe her with just as much intensity. She needs to see how Ange will react, nothing can distract her. Not from this. “But really, you’re a fucking snake, aren’t you?” 

 

Blue eyes crinkle at her the way an affectionate cat’s might. The smile on Ange’s lips is real. “Language.” Ange says. It’s the only thing she says.

 

---

 

It turns out, the mystery number in Ange’s first ever group chat belongs to Tara. She shows up to the Rockwaller household shortly after Ange. Despite the house being empty, they all clamber into Bonnie’s room to study. Tara walks in, leaves her shoes by the door, and flops face first onto Bonnie’s bed. Ange walks in, leaves her shoes by the door, and makes herself at home on one of the two chairs by Bonnie’s desk. Bonnie just walks in and turns her stereo on low, creating some background noise. It’s one of the songs on Ange’s playlist. Ange has to stop herself from grinning like a fool.

 

“Mmf mffm mmmff ffmfmm mmf,” Tara says into the mattress. Bonnie rolls her eyes fondly. She settles onto her bed with more grace, crossing one leg over the other. And what long legs they are. They just stretch on and on for miles, don't they?

 

“Say that again, but make sense this time,” Bonnie says, knocking Ange out of her mental digression. She’s got to get a hold of that. Tara pops her head up with a pout.

 

“Let's beat up whoever invented chemistry,” Tara says. “I’m never going to use it in my life anyway.”

 

“True.” Bonnie nods along. “Chemistry is, like, lab stuff.” She gives Ange a judging look. “Which is why I dragged the queen of nerds into this.” 

 

“Antoine Lavoisier,” Ange says.

 

“What?” Bonnie says. Both the girls gaze at Ange in confusion. 

 

“Antoine Lavoisier,” Ange repeats. “He’s considered the father of modern chemistry by defining what elements are and developing quantifiable methods of study.”

 

“See?” Bonnie looks back at Tara. “We’re going to ace this test.” Tara looks reassured.

 

“Let’s just get to work.” Ange huffs, but she’s hiding her amusement. She pulls out her textbook with a little ‘ta-dah.’ Then she looks at the girls and pauses. They’re on the bed, she’s on a chair, and Ange has the distinct feeling that if she started a lecture right now they’ll maul her.

 

Let's see how far Bonnie will let her go this time.

 

Ange gets up from her chair to sit down on the pillow soft mattress. Her stomach triple flips when two girls lean over her to view the study material. A chin rests on her shoulder. Tara’s platinum blonde hair falls around her face in gentle waves. They frame her delicate features and highlight how brightly blue her eyes are. Bonnie rests her wrist on the other shoulder, leaning into her side. Ange stares straight ahead because she’s not sure where else she should look.

 

“This century, please.” Bonnie says. Whoopsie.

 

“Uhm, okay,” Ange swallows hard. “Cool, cool, so,” Her hand trembles a little when she points to the first line. “It starts like this…”

 

They make it an hour and a half before Tara gets too restless. Ange can feel when Tara starts fidgeting. It’s something erratic and unpredictable. The surface of a lake disturbed by sudden rain. Ange shuts her textbook. “I think if we go over the problems one more time, it’ll be smooth sailing tomorrow. But, uhm, can we take a break? I’m starving.” Tara sags with relief against her. 

 

Bonnie spent the time with more patience. She leans back calmly. Ange immediately misses the pressure on her side. “What do you want to eat, Possible?” Bonnie says as she rolls her head back and forth. The muscles along the column of her neck flex, casting enchanting shadows under the overhead light. 

 

“Huh? - oh,” Ange coughs. “Food?” When Bonnie side-eyes her, she grins. “I’m not picky. Whatever you’re willing to offer, please and thank you.”

 

“Tara?” 

 

“Mmnn… Can we get some takeout? I would kill for some Indian food right now. From Spice Junction. They’ve got the best curry.”

 

Bonnie nods, approving. “That’s more like it.” Bonnie pulls out her flip phone. Ange feels a poke on her side as Bonnie starts to order. Tara is staring at her with adorable bright blue eyes. If Ange leaned in right now, she could probably kiss her. 

 

“Hey, Angie,” Tara says. Ange nods her head. “Did Riley ever ask you out?” 

 

“Oh right,” Ange says involuntarily. Then she shuts her mouth until she can trust it again. She’d forgotten that most girls like boys. “No, but I hope he does already.”

 

Tara’s eyes widen, obviously astonished.

 

“So I can turn him down.” Ange clarifies. 

 

“Hmm,” Tara hums. Ange can see Tara’s thoughts forming through the window of her eyes. “What exactly is your type?” Ange’s instincts start to tremble.

 

“What do you mean?” She says carefully.

 

“First it was Josh,” Tara says. “And you don’t like Riley. I was just wondering what you’re looking for in a… partner.”

 

Why did she hesitate?

 

No, Ange knew why Tara hesitated. Ange’s throat feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton.

 

“Wit,” Ange says. Very neutral, that descriptor. She gives it more thought. It is an interesting question. “Confidence, loyalty, drive… aesthetic beauty.” Each trait makes Tara’s eyebrows lift further up her forehead. 

 

“Huh.”

 

“...Is it strange to say?” All of it is true, though.

 

“No - well, kind of?” Tara tilts her head. “I was expecting, like, nice?”

 

“It’s easier to teach someone to be nice than it is to be confident.” Ange replies. “And if I can’t even do that, they aren’t worth my affections.”

 

“Hey, Angie?” Tara sounds amused. Ange stares at her face, trying to figure out why. “You’re a bit of an odd duck.” 

 

“Quack.” Tara breaks down into giggles. Ange relaxes. It’s a good thing that Tara doesn’t seem uncomfortable, right? A flick on her shoulder makes Ange look up. Bonnie is staring deadpan at her. 

 

“Stop being weird to Tara.”

 

She looks at Bonnie, then to Tara - who is still giggling, then back to Bonnie. 

 

“How?” 

 

Bonnie sighs helplessly when Tara doubles over in laughter. 

 

---

 

“It works! It works! I’ve done it!” Drakken hunches over his machine, staring down at his latest creation. “Soon, Shego, that insipid little teenage hero, Kim Possible, will know the taste of defeat! Kim Possible, and that buffoon, ooh, what’s his name?” Drakken starts pressing buttons on the control panel mounted into the lair wall. “R…Rumple? Rumplestilzkin? Is that his name?” Using his hands to balance himself on the desk, he looks upwards in thought. “No, that doesn’t sound right.. Nngg, It doesn’t matter! Once I’m through with him, that fool will be forced to bow to me! Then I can call him whatever I please.”

 

As he starts calibrating his newest creation, a thought crosses his mind. “Shego, are you paying attention to me!?” He whirls around in frenzied anger. On a particularly comfortable looking recliner, clad in her green and black catsuit, is Shego. Or, there should have been Shego. The seat is empty. “Shego?” Drakken stalks over to the chair.

 

There’s a yellow post-it note sticking to the backrest. He picks it up to read Shego’s bold scrawl.

 

”Off to the spa. Do NOT bother me until I get back.”

 

“Ooh!” Drakken throws the post-it down in frustration. It sticks to his glove, forcing him to shake his hand back and forth until it falls off. “But, Shego!” Drakken says to no one. “This device is my greatest creation yet!” Surely, once he explained it to her, Shego would understand how important this is. Surely. Dr. Drakken takes his brick of a satellite phone out of his pocket and starts dialing.

Chapter 42: Chapter 42

Notes:

Welp, I officially have to turn this into an M rating. lemme just uh...

-walks into trashcan-

“Bonnie!” Ange calls her name. Soft eyes are shining brightly when they look at her. Bonnie feels herself smile before she can think better of it. When Ange approaches her, hugs her tight, it feels as natural as breathing. “Good morning,” Ange says, burying her nose into Bonnie’s hair. Bonnie hears her deep inhale. What a freak.

 

“Morning, I guess,” Bonnie says. She wraps her arms around Ange’s torso. It’s solid and powerful and slender. She runs a hand up Ange’s side, admiring how the curve of Ange’s waist feels against her palm. Ange lets out a shaky breath. She pulls back first, only to look Bonnie in the eyes.  

 

“Are you ready?” Ange’s eyes are ocean blue. Bonnie can see the waves crashing around in them. 

 

“Of course I am,” Bonnie lets Ange wrap each of her hands around her hips. Ange easily lifts her feet off the ground, spins her around once, twice, then walks them over to the gymnasium bleachers. Suddenly weightless, Bonnie laughs. “Ready for what?” She finally asks. When Ange sits down, she’s sure to place Bonnie into her lap, back to front. Bonnie leans backwards. Ange can support her weight. 

 

“To play, of course,” Ange says, voice gentle. There’s mischief in there, too. Strong arms wrap around Bonnie’s waist, pulling her tightly against Ange’s front. Bonnie lets her eyes flutter shut. Her head tilts to the side so Ange can press their cheeks together. For once, Bonnie doesn’t have to think about anything but this point and time. It’s warm. The world smells of chocolate spice.

 

“Okay.” 

 

Ange only moves after Bonnie’s permission is granted. Lips brush against her cheek, leaving the skin pleasantly hot. Bonnie sighs. A nose nuzzles underneath her jawline. Ange traces fingertips along her stomach so lightly it makes her shiver. On a whim, Bonnie reaches over her shoulder and scratches her nails along Ange’s throat. She can’t let Angie do all the work, can she? The rumbly growl Ange makes sends a thrill up her spine. 

 

“Bonnibel,” Ange says her name breathlessly. The hands on her stomach press harder, shifts lower. A fox-smile curls Bonnie’s lips. ”Bonnibel,” Ange says again. A hand grips her inner thigh, kneads a pattern into the muscle of it, demanding her attention. It makes her feel weak. If she could think about anything else, she would wonder why that didn’t scare her. To keep herself somewhat grounded, Bonnie starts tracing a pattern along Ange’s mandible. “Bonnibel…” 

 

Teeth close around her shoulder. A primal snarl vibrates past Ange’s incisors.  

 

"You’re mine.”

 

Her eyes snap open. 

 

Bonnie bolts upright on her bed, gulping down air like each one might be her last. She finds herself staring blankly into the darkness of her bedroom. A drop of sweat slides down her neck and under the collar of a too big white hoodie. The sensation finally restarts her mind.

 

She goes so red, when she buries her face in her hands, she can feel heat radiating into her palms.

 

What the fuck was that? 

 

She swallows past a dry throat. It doesn’t help in the slightest. Her flip-phone lays charging on her nightstand. Bonnie reaches for it with a shaking hand and flicks it open. The light hurts her eyes, which is kind of good right now. It takes her mind off of… 

 

It’s three forty eight in the morning, almost time for her to get up anyway. Bonnie sets her phone back down. It makes a small thump on the wooden table. The lamp by her nightstand turns on with a click. 

 

Bonnie props her elbow onto her knee and her chin on her hand. It’s not like this is the first time she’s had a dream about a friend. It’s natural at her age - Bonnie pinches the arch of her nose. No matter how far she falls, she refuses to sound like a sex-ed video. So, this is fine, and normal, and she isn’t going to think about it anymore. 

 

It’s probably because of what happened on the rooftop yesterday. 

 

She blushes again. Whoever socialized Ange did an awfully peculiar job. If she concentrates, she can still feel Ange’s fingertip run up her stomach. Which she isn’t about to do. Because none of it means anything. And it’s almost time for her to get up anyway. Once she starts her routine, she’ll be able to forget about it.

 

The phone on her table vibrates. Thankfully, it refocuses her mind. Then she swears when she sees who’s texted her.

 

”Good morning, Bonnie.” Ange types like an old lady. ”Don’t wait up for me. Kim and I are going to make sure Dr. Drakken can’t hold the world hostage. Again.” Relief and disappointment clash in battle. 

 

There’s a beat before another text vibrates her phone.

”Waking up around this time could be considered torture in some countries. Please let me know if anyone is forcing you to do this. I’m building a blue ionic laser that can stop them from existing.”

 

Bonnie rolls her eyes. What a drama queen.

 

“Doesn’t that count as a death ray or something?” Bonnie replies.

 

”Don’t tell Kim.”

 

What’s more satisfying… Watching Kim scold Ange, or keeping a mutual secret from her? Bonnie shuts her phone with an amused grin. She doesn’t even need to think about it.

 

---

Four notes pierce the darkness. 

 

Kim rolls out of bed instantly. She’s on her feet with her Kimmunicator in her hand before she even registers what’s going on. Kim hits the button to turn it on. “Go, Wade,” she says. Despite being dead asleep a second earlier, mission mode makes her alert.

 

“Morning Kim, guess who just struck the Academies of the Sciences in China?”

 

“Judging by the name, it sounds like Drakken is up to something,” Kim says.

 

Wade nods, grinning ruefully. “You got it in one. They stole a Perpetual Contra Analyzer.”

 

Kim smirks. “More like Shego stole, Drakken ranted?”

 

“That sounds way more accurate, yeah.” Wade types something with loud clicks into his computer keyboard. “I know that the PCA has something to do with the mind, but that’s about it.” He gives Kim a frustrated sigh. “I’ll try and look more into it. Your ride should be there in thirty.”

 

“Ten-four, Wade,” Kim waves his frustration off with a smile. “You rock.”

 

Wade flashes a smile of his own before his screen goes black. The attic bedroom goes quiet, save for Kim’s heartbeat and the sound of Ange’s breathing. She gives Ange’s sleeping figure a thoughtful glance. Waking up her little sister (five minutes still counts!) could get… tricky. But she had said she wanted in on the Drakken missions. The last time had ended in success, too. Plus, it’s a good excuse to bother her. That last part was the most important.

 

Kim shoves both of her hands on Ange’s back and starts shaking her uncontrollably. “Wake up, wake up, wake up!” she yells, giddy.

 

Ange flops around from the force, blinking her eyes open after a few seconds. “Wha...?”

 

“Drakken and Shego just made a move! Come on.”

 

“St…p bein’ noisy.” Ange says, covering her head with a pillow. Kim ‘tsk’s’ with more glee than necessary.

 

“You said you wanted in on these missions, didn’t you?” 

 

“Mmyeah...” Ange’s voice is muffled by her pillow. “Do.” That counts as permission to continue.

 

“Then get dressed, we’re leaving in -” Kim checks her Kimmunicator. “Twenty seven minutes.” When Ange doesn’t say anything, Kim shoves her fingers around Ange’s soft pillow and wrenches it away. Ange whines. Kim holds the pillow up into the air and…

 

Poomf! poomf! poomf!

 

“Aah, hey! Hey!” Ange squirms around. She sounds awake now. Poomf! One more for good measure. “Kim!” Finally, Ange sits up and meets Kim’s smirk with narrowed eyes. “What! What is it?!” 

 

“Drakken just had Shego steal a Perpetual Contra Analyzer. We gotta go kick his butt before he uses it on someone.”

 

“The PCA?” The look of intrigue on Ange’s face intrigues Kim’s face. 

 

“You know it?”

 

“Yeah, it, uh...” Ange ruffles her hair, then starts rolling out of bed. “It can influence emotional regulation. That’s all I know about it though.” Ange lands on her feet sans noise. Not even the bell on her neck chimes. Kim feels a bit of pride well up in her chest. It’s about time Ange went through that training. “Whatever Dr. Drakken is going to do with it is probably going to be crazy.”

 

“I guess that’s why he’s a mad scientist.” Kim says, pulling her pajamas off to change into her mission gear. Ange follows her example, snickering at the stupid joke. Then Ange looks at her own Kimmunicator and stops laughing.

 

“I don’t care what time it is in Beijing. The fact we have to get up at three forty nine to stop this guy is the biggest crime he’s ever committed.” Ange grumbles, typing something into the device. 

 

“You’ll get used to it.” Kim pats her on the shoulder, then pauses. “Woah,” She says, rubbing her hand over the deltoid. “Maybe I should get you to edit my DNA…”

 

Ange gives her a withering pout. “No! Our parents will ground me again. Besides, if I improved your genome, you’d have to give up cheerleading.” Kim snatches her hand back as if she’s been burned. 

 

Nothing is worth giving up cheerleading. 

 

---

 

As Bonnie walks down the hallways of Middleton High, she notices that Donavan is loitering around Ange’s locker. He’s not paying attention to anyone, far too engrossed in a stack of papers stapled together. She raises a perfect eyebrow as she processes this. Then, Bonnie smirks, not bothering to hide how smug she feels. 

 

Her hand slams into the locker a few feet from his head so hard that he jumps into the air. 

 

“Wow, Donavan,” Bonnie looks at her nails, but she’s watching Donavan clutch at his heart with great amusement. “I’m surprised you’re here. Didn’t you get the memo?” The scrawny boy purses his lips and regards her. There’s evaluation going on in his head. That’s kind of annoying.

 

“I always wait here for Angelus,” Donavan finally says. “Or, Angelus waits for me in the mornings.” He’s reminding her who’s been Ange’s friend longer, she realizes. Super annoying. Bonnie sniffs decisively. It doesn’t matter.

 

“She’s not coming to class this morning,” Bonnie says. It makes Donavan visibly pause.

 

“..But she loves class?” A part of Bonnie dies. Donavan is right. How did she become friends with such a dork? Donavan starts shifting from foot to nervous foot. “Did something happen? Is she sick?”

 

“Angie didn’t tell you?” Bonnie says, reminding him that she’s in the know and he isn’t. “She’s off saving the world. Something, like, important? Maybe sending you a text just slipped her mind.”

“W-what do you mean by that?” 

 

Bonnie raises both of her eyebrows. If he really needed her to spell it out for him, she’ll oblige. “I think she forgot about you, Donavan.” She shakes her head, mocking sadness. “Thankfully, I was nice enough to loop you in. So, like, some appreciation would be great-”

 

“What do you mean she’s off saving the world?” Donavan says, interrupting her. Bonnie considers telling one of the boys to shove him in a locker, then decides better of it. Ange would hate that. The things she does for her friends. 

 

“This morning,” Bonnie says, waving a hand around in a circle. Maybe if she explains it slowly, he’ll get it. “Angie went off to beat up some Drakken guy. Saving the world. Duh.” The look of pure horror on Donavan’s face is enough for Bonnie to reassess her words. She comes up short. “Hello? Are you going to stand there staring or actually do something?”

 

“Ms. Rockwaller,” Donavan says, adam’s apple bobbing. “Angelus doesn’t know how to fight.” That doesn’t make sense.

 

“That’s not true.” Bonnie furrows her brow. Definitely not in worry. “Angie told me she has a martial arts instructor.”

 

“Yes, Angelus finds the art form fascinating. But she’s never thrown a punch in her life.” Donavan’s brows are furrowed, definitely in worry. “Fighting scares her. A-and, Dr. Drakken is a very dangerous, ruthless villain.” Whatever he was reading is toast. The papers scrunch up in his white knuckled, shaking fists. “W-what if she gets maimed? Or dies?”

 

Ice chills every single one of Bonnie’s veins. It’s suddenly hard to breathe. She can’t even work up the effort to gather her biting wit. The last time she saw her, Ange had eaten an entire gallon (somehow?) of too spicy Chicken Tikka Masala at her kitchen table. They’d studied for the chemistry test yesterday afternoon. There’s no way that would be Bonnie’s last memory of her, right?

 

Right?

 

Bonnie and Donavan stare at each other in mutual horror. Only the ring of the school bell gets them moving again. They go to class, not quite together, but not separate either. At the end of first period, Bonnie has a feeling that neither she nor Donavan absorbed a single word. Could Ange really be that stupid?

 

Just what kind of danger did she put herself in?

 

---

 

“Hi Dr. Drakken!” Ange yells from the rafters in pure and utter delight. She even shoves her hand high into the air and waves at him, grinning from ear to ear.

 

Dr. Drakken jumps from his seat. When he catches sight of her, he breaks out into an even bigger grin. One decidedly more manic, but just as delighted.

 

“Ange! What a nice surprise!” He watches as Ange steps off of the metal beam. As Ange falls, she pulls out a sturdy grappling hook and fires it into the air. Her free fall slowly gathers tension as the wire guides her into a smooth, curving swing. She even disengages the hook with a little flip for flair, landing right in front of Drakken with both hands above her head like a gymnast. The effect would have been better if Ange didn’t stumble a few steps to keep her balance. Nobody’s perfect.

 

Kim, kneeling from behind a large cargo box on the other end of the lair, gives an intrigued nod at the display. She and Ron exchange a glance. Ron even looks slightly impressed. “How do you think she keeps her pants from falling off?” He asks her in a whisper, genuinely curious. 

 

“Ron, focus,” Kim whispers back. The plan is simple. While Ange distracts Drakken - it’s super weird how well they get along. Kim wonders if she should be worried about that - Ron goes to find the self-destruct button. Kim will make sure Shego doesn’t stop him and hopefully they’ll be out of here in time for the tail end of the school day. “I’ll follow you until we find Shego.”

 

The simpler it is to implement a plan, the easier it is to follow through. But a rule of law the universe strictly enforces is that plans rarely, if ever, go to, well, plan. The first hiccup isn’t really a hiccup, per say. They were expecting Shego to show up. Not so soon, but beggars and choosers.

 

“Hi Kimmie,” a voice purrs from above them. When Kim and Ron look up, they see the graceful, dangerous, black and green suited Shego sitting lazily atop the metal and wooden crate they were trying to hide behind. The smile on her face could be described as simpering. Lethal would be another good term. “You’re looking for me? I’m flattered.”

 

Kim scrambles to her feet immediately, bending her knees and lowering her center of gravity. Thrill starts pumping her heart faster. There’s a scowl on her face, but her eyes are wild and alive. “Flattered isn’t the word I’d use, Shego.” Ron is already scrambling away to hide behind the crate. Shego watches him go with uninterested eyes.

 

“I’ll, uh, go do my part, KP! Bye!”

 

It’s just the two of them now. Shego pushes off of the crate and lands yards away in an elegant crouch. Kim takes an excited little breath. “Here to gloat?” Kim asks as Shego bares her teeth. “I’ll be all ears once I have you in cuffs.” Plasma turns Kim’s world green.

 

The second hiccup…s are the henchmen. Ron is too busy running-stumbling away from the two most dangerous people on the planet to look ahead. The only warning he gets is a squeak from Rufus, then he run-stumbles straight into a wall with a “WOOF!” 

 

Ron falls backwards onto his hands. Mid groan, he looks at what he ran into. It’s just in time to see a well built and imposing man turn around to regard him. Many more glance over with the same curiosity. Ron lets himself give them his most charming smile. It comes out as a grimace. 

 

“Hey, guys,” Ron says, crawling backwards. “You wouldn’t happen to know where the self-destruct button is, would you?” The henchmen follow him, though a few look at each other, wondering if the boy is serious. Someone from the back chimes in. 

 

“Yeah, it’s over by the big ray gu-Ow!” There’s the sound of the back of a head being smacked. “Sorry,” the voice says, quieter this time. From his shoulder, Rufus exchanges a glance with Ron.

 

“Thanks, man!” Ron springs onto his feet and takes off down a corridor. The men stampede behind him. As he turns a corner, he holds his arm out so Rufus can crawl down it and disappear into the shadows. It’s just Ron, narrow pathways, and a lot of men who wouldn’t think twice about punching his lights out.

 

So not the drama. He hopes.

Chapter 43: Chapter 43

Notes:

Wooooaaah double feature

Shego punches hard enough to crush concrete. She can rend metal with a swipe of her claws. Kim has seen her smile through a crowbar to the ribs. Shego is by far the toughest, strongest, and fastest person she's ever met. 

 

Kim's back hits the cold ground. She doesn't give herself time to gasp in pain, it'll kill her. She rolls to the side, dodging a heel kick that cracks the floor into spider-webs. A swipe of her leg pulls Shego off her feet. 

 

She recovers just as quickly, landing on her hands and using her powerful arms to vault into the air. There's a split second where their eyes meet, forest and electric green, then Shego brings two hands together in front of her head and sends plasma towards Kim's chest. Kim kicks with her leg into a forward roll, then springs upwards to send her knee into Shego's face.

 

It barely makes her flinch. It does screw up her landing. 

 

The thief lands in a heap and a snarl. Kim lands on her feet and follows her in one, two steps. On the third, she snaps her leg out. Shego pushes off with her hand and leg to dodge sideways. The wind from it ruffles her hair, just missing her jaw. It makes her grin at Kim so viciously Kim wonders if this is as close to meeting a dragon as she’ll get. 

 

“You’re bringing backup, Kimmie.” Shego’s voice is low and seductive. Kim tries not to pay attention to it. There is nothing more important than the mission. And yet, it gets under her skin when Shego adopts mocking worry. “Can’t cut it alone anymore?” Shego strikes on the last word, slicing her fist at Kim’s face. 

 

The power behind each of Shego’s strikes necessitates a smooth response. Simply blocking with a forearm or hand would leave her bones hairline fractured. So, Kim favors the Mantis style against her. Kim hooks her forearm against the side of Shego’s wrist. Rather than blocking, she guides it off its path and lets it slide right past her head. It leaves an opening that Kim punishes with a closed fist. Shego’s other hand is already moving. Before Kim can hit Shego’s sternum, a large, warm palm absorbs the blow. The sharp of Shego’s claws teases the back of her hand, but Shego doesn’t pierce her skin. They both know she could.

 

A subtle tilt of bodyweight is the only warning Kim gets before a shin slams into her side and sends her skidding across the floor. “I’ve never been alone,” Kim bites out, crawling back onto her feet. Shego lets her recover, watching Kim move with the intensity and patience of a leopard. “Not that I need backup to kick your butt.” She falls back into Mantis form and smirks. “What’s your excuse?”

 

Shego lets out a long exhale through her nose, cracks her neck side to side, and charges forward. “Excuse?” Shego hisses. Kim lunges to meet her. First a high kick that Shego dodges under. Pivot the hips and swivel into a powerful low kick. Shego lifts her knee to soak up the momentum. She hops her other foot into the air and shreds it forward. “You’re going to wish I had one when I’m through with you, Princess.”

 

Forest green eyes go wide. Shego’s foot connects against her cheek fast enough to throw her into a wall. Sparks flood Kim’s vision as she slumps half way to the floor. Only will-power keeps her standing upright, but she’s slow. She knows she’s slow. Kim’s focus is murky. She still uses as much as she can to see where Shego will strike next. 

 

Nothing comes. 

 

“Holy shit,” Kim hears Shego say. “I didn’t think that would land.” Shego’s standing a few feet from her, guard completely lowered. If it was any other time, Kim would have reprimanded that with as much brutality as she could manage. Right now, she’s too dizzy to trust herself to stand upright.

 

“Language,” Kim manages a soft mutter. 

 

“Good to know I didn’t do too much damage,” Shego says, more to herself than to Kim. Kim feels a strong hand reach underneath her arm and pull her onto her feet. When she starts to tip over, another hand plants firmly on her ribs to keep her steady. “Damnit Kimmie,” Shego swears again, probably just to piss her off. “Look at me.”

 

Kim lolls her head, then shakes it until the stars swim away. “..’m fine.” Her eyes meet Shego’s. They aren’t glowing anymore. They’re still unnaturally bright and green. Kim blinks stupidly at them, then focuses on the extended finger Shego holds up in front of her nose. 

 

“Yeah, yeah. Follow the light.” A green flame bursts to life on Shego’s fingertip. Kim watches it sway back and forth. “Lucky you,” Shego finally says. “No concussion.” There would probably be a mean bruise by the end of the day. Kim could already feel it starting to form.

 

“Yippee,” Kim says, more than a little sarcastic. She reaches up to rub her forehead. Thinking was getting easier. About time. Ow. “Can we get back to it?” She steadies her feet. It makes Shego huff, amused. The hand on her ribs pulls away, leaving them cold. Kim ignores it to hop up and down a few times.

 

“You sure?” Shego takes a few steps backwards, tracking Kim’s bounces. Kim frowns.

 

“I’m fine,” she says. Her tone brokers no argument. “Let's go. I’m not done with you.” 

 

“Hmm.” It takes a moment longer than Kim likes for Shego to fall back into her stance. “Like you have a chance.” That’s more like it. Kim explodes forward, clenching the leather of Shego’s catsuit in one hand and lifting the other in a fist. Before she can deliver it to Shego’s face, Shego lets herself fall in reverse. She rolls smoothly backwards, plants a foot on Kim’s stomach and pushes hard enough to send Kim flying in a beautiful arc. 

 

Kim twists in mid air so she can roll out the impact. She ends up on her back, but it doesn’t hurt. The impact on her stomach does, a little. Something heavy and powerful pins her into the ground. Shego grabs her hands and forces them onto the floor besides each of her ears. Black lipstick lips twist cruelly. 

 

“Face it, Kimmie,” Shego says to Kim, a timbre of light amusement making her end on a high and teasing note. “I won this round.” Kim clenches her jaw and sneers. 

 

Drakken’s voice pierces through the moment.

 

“See that Tensigrid strut? Just lock it into place on the matrix chassis,” Drakken says. Shego and Kim stare at each other for a loooong moment. 

 

“Oh, so it can absorb the excess kinetic energy of the Flux Wheel?” That’s Ange’s voice. Kim would recognize it anywhere.

 

“Exactly! I knew you’d catch on. Now watch this!” A strange, unreal hum starts filling the air. Shego and Kim turn their heads towards the noise as one. It’s just in time to see something incomprehensible. A glowing circle forms out of nothing in the middle of the air, right above some kind of machinery. Across the room, a beam of light focuses somewhere in space. Another circle tears itself out of the air. Dr. Drakken pulls an apple out of a drawer on his desk and chucks it through the closest circle. It pops out of the other ring and falls to the floor with a thud.

 

Ange squeals. 

 

“Oh my gosh, oh my gosh, oh my gosh!” Kim and Shego watch her jump high into the air, land on the ground, then bounce right back up. Kim notices the bell only rings once in all of that movement. “It works! We did it! Dr. Drakken, that is brilliant!” For his part, Dr. Drakken just puffs his chest with pride and wiggles from side to side. 

 

“It certainly is! Excellent work.” 

 

Shego and Kim go back to looking at each other. Kim widens her eyes pointedly at Shego, jerking her head in the pair’s direction. Shego nods tiredly. 

 

“Thank you! Eee, I couldn’t have done this without you! Oh my gosh, the tweebs are going to be so jealous.”

 

“They had better be!” Drakken adjusts his collar smugly. “Whoever this tweebs person is.”

 

“My little brothers. They think they’re all that!” Ange starts circling their machine, staring at it from all angles. “And they kind of are! But this is going to knock their socks off.”

 

Kim feels Shego let go of her wrists and lean back onto her heels. It puts more pressure on her stomach. It’s almost uncomfortable, but there’s something way… weirder going on. Shego points at Kim’s chest, then her own, silently asking which of them should deal with this.

 

“I’d expect it to! The Temporal Wormhole Transponder is not easy to make.”

 

The look Kim gives Shego makes the older woman sigh. Then Shego pulls herself to her feet. Surprisingly, Kim sees Shego hold her hand down to her. After a slight hesitation, Kim takes it. A flex of Shego’s arm makes Kim feel weightless. Shego pulls her to her feet effortlessly. 

 

“I’m glad you’re here to mentor me through it.” Ange scampers over and gives Dr. Drakken a big hug. Dr. Drakken looks like he doesn’t know what to do with it for a moment. Ultimately, he settles for a warm smile and a pat on Ange’s shoulder. 

 

As a team, Shego and Kim stalk over to the pair. Shego grabs Drakken by the back of his lab coat, Kim grabs Ange around the waist, and they both pull them apart at the exact same time. 

 

“Dr. D, what the fuck are you doing?” Shego says.

 

“Ange, what the heck is going on?” Kim says at the same time. Kim blinks, Ange blinks. They both look at Shego,

 

“Language,” the sisters say in tandem. Shego snaps her gaze at them and gives the girls a glare that makes Ange flinch a few steps backwards. Protectiveness coils around Kim’s gut, but she ignores it to pull Ange farther away by the hand.

 

“Angie??” Kim says, still as confused and exasperated as before. While Kim gives her sister a disbelieving stare, Ange breaks into a grin. One of Kim’s eyes twitches. “Explain. Or I’m not letting you come with me next time.” That wipes the smile right off her sister’s face.

 

“Wha- that’s a little drastic, don’t you think!” Ange exclaims loudly. To Kim’s utter fascination, Ange looks over her shoulder towards Drakken and Shego, then leans in closer to whisper. “If I get Dr. Drakken to like me, well..” Ange looks down, hiding the worry on her face with her bangs. It doesn’t work that well now that she’s getting taller. “Maybe he won’t be so evil to you.” 

 

Kim feels her mouth fall open. 

 

“I mean, he’s also absolutely brilliant,” Ange continues, ruining the moment. “Like, probably the smartest person I’ve ever met… In this particular field of study.” She starts rocking back and forth on her heels, glancing underneath her lashes to look at Kim. “So, like, a win-win for me, right?” Ange’s blue eyes tremble wetly at her. It’s not.. A pout, though.

 

“Oh,” Kim thinks to herself. The fight leaves her all at once. Warm, fuzzy affection replaces it. She leans over and smushes a smooch right onto Ange’s cheek. 

 

“Don’t worry, Angie,” Kim pulls her into a tight hug. “I’m alright, okay? You know I’m not gonna let anything hurt me.” They both don’t say anything for a beat. “That badly.” To her relief, Ange lets out a little snort. Ange’s arms - they’re getting strong - wrap around her shoulders. Kim swallows thickly. She can feel Ange take a shaky breath, then compose herself. If only they weren’t in a villain’s lair, if only they were at home in their attic bedroom, Kim would be able to figure out how long Ange felt this way. 

 

But they aren’t. 

 

“I’m tough,” Kim can say. It’s the only thing she can say right now. It’ll have to be enough. Ange nods against her cheek, squeezes her tightly once, then steps back and lets her go with a smile.

 

“The toughest cheerleader I know,” Ange says. “...Don’t tell Bonnie I said that.” Kim lets her eyelids slide half shut, smirking.

 

“I’ll think about it.”

 

Ange startles when a loud blaring horn shatters the relative quiet. Kim doesn’t. Instead, she looks around until she sees Ron. He’s hunched over, resting his hands on his knees, panting hard enough that she can see it across the room. Behind him are about a dozen henchmen, laying on their backs or leaning against the walls, panting even harder, somehow. Another scan of her eyes and she finds Rufus striking a pose on top of a giant red button near a large ray gun. Drakken’s latest contraption, no doubt. 

 

Kim feels herself smile. She gives a sidelong glance at Ange, speaking with her eyes. I get Ron, you get Rufus?

 

Ange returns it with a smirk. Race you out. She breaks into a sprint immediately after.

 

“Hey- That’s cheating- uggh!” Kim runs over to Ron so she can drag him out of the lair by the arm.

 

Neither of them notice Drakken picking up a small, protective glass box. Encased inside is a little machine that almost looks like if a motor wasn’t analog. He tucks it into a hidden pocket of his lab coat. Engraved on the metal bottom are the words Perpetual Contra Analyzer. He hustles out of the room, but pauses long enough to spare one last glance at the machine he’d built with Ange. He can only shake his head ruefully before leaving. 

 

That Temporal Wormhole Transponder really was a work of art. 

Chapter 44: Chapter 44

Notes:

Sorry for the late update. This one got super long. But I think its super good

Toot, toot <- me tooting my own horn

The lunchroom is somehow, and thankfully, spotless. The janitor should get a raise, probably.

 

As usual, Bonnie arrives at the biggest, bestest table in Middleton high five minutes after the start of lunch period. Since the Epic Middleton Foodfight, Bonnie had gotten the boys to move the - three now, just in case - tables closer to the doorway. Several of her girl friends are already sitting around, gossiping or teasing some of the boys that get in early. Riley is sitting at his usual spot, besides Keon and Josh. Bonnie only spares him a brief glance before sitting in her chair at the head of the table. 

 

“Hey Bonnie.” The crew that is already there temporarily disengage from their conversation to greet her. Bonnie gives them a smile that only has a little edge to it. Nice, for her. Sierra, a girl with some of the best black curls Bonnie has ever seen in her life, leans over to include her in the conversation.

 

“Did you hear the newest Bravo’s album? I am totally digging their new vibe,” Sierra says. Bonnie nods her head. The cafeteria is serving tacos today. She places her tray in front of her and starts picking at it.

 

“It’s very nineties. Grunge, not emo.” She leans back in her chair, pondering. Might as well. Sienna is high on the social ladder. Not to mention, one of the more tolerable of her friends. “I scored some tickets for next Friday. But, like, the first football game this season gets in the way of start time. Take them off my hands.” It makes Sierra break into a grin.

 

“Omg, I owe you, Chica.” Sierra places both her hands in front of her face as a thank you. Bonnie nods. She totally does. Josh taps his juice box on the table to get her attention. 

 

“Not gonna spare any for me?” Josh says, pouting playfully. Bonnie shrugs her shoulders at him. 

 

“Sorry, Joshy.” She tilts her head towards Sierra. “Her favors are more fun.” Sierra nods this time. They totally are. 

 

A tray of taco meat drops down beside her. Tara sits down on Bonnie’s left, draping herself against Bonnie’s side. “Augh, I just need the weekend to start already!” This close to her means that Bonnie can smell the sweet citrus perfume Tara favors. Bart Maurant’s - Everything Nice, Series No. 4. One of Bonnie’s favorites. Maybe that’s because Tara is the one that wears it. “Why do we have to take a test at the very end of the day,” Tara says. “I feel like I’m forgetting everything.” 

 

“Don’t worry about it.” Bonnie lets Tara start playing with her hair. “I bet you’ll get a B at the lowest.” 

 

“Hnmm... I hope so. Maybe Angie can go over it with me one more time.” Underneath the table, Bonnie’s foot starts tapping. Tara looks around the room. By now, most of the usual group is here. “Where is she, anyway?” From across the table, Riley looks up at them. 

 

“I wish I knew,” Bonnie mutters. It makes Tara focus on her with a quirked eyebrow. “Something about fighting some Drakken guy with Kim,” Bonnie says, making a little ‘tsk’ noise. “Who lets teenagers just go and do that stuff anyway?” Kim had mentioned death-rays. “Shouldn’t the army just merc his ass?” 

 

Tara wraps a hand around Bonnie’s shoulder and pulls her a little closer.

 

“She’s gonna be fine,” Tara murmurs against her ear. Bonnie can’t even enjoy it. “Angie’s, like, a ninja or something.” It makes Bonnie relax, just a little bit. A ninja that didn’t know how to fight. Against fucking death-rays. Tara squeezes her closer with one arm and pulls her bedazzled flip-phone out with the other. “Have you texted her about it?” Bonnie shakes her head. She hadn’t. 

 

She didn’t want to spend her time hoping for an answer. 

 

“Did you say Ange was away?” Riley finally asks them. Bonnie bristles underneath Tara’s shoulder. Tara speaks before Bonnie can say something.

 

“Yeah, she’s doing, like, teenage girl stuff.” 

 

For some reason, Josh Mankey chokes on his juicebox, laughing. When the table looks at him, astonished, he pounds his chest to recover. “That sounds about right.” He waves them off with a lazy sway of his hand. “Don’t think too hard about it, Riley.” The hand claps down on Riley’s shoulder. “Girls are mysterious,” Josh glances around warily and avoids certain death. “Lovely, uh, people.” The girls at the table stop glaring at him. One of them even nods. 

 

Tara’s phone vibrates in her hand. She flips it open and shows it to Bonnie. “See? She’s just fine.” On the screen is a freshly made text chain with ‘Angie’ followed by two duck emojis scrolled at the top. 

 

”angie whats ur eta? i miss you :c” Tara sent, one minute ago. The newest message is from Angie, duck emoji, duck emoji.

 

“Hello, Tara. It’s nice to hear that. I miss you too. C: Did I use that right? Regardless, I’m just now passing East over the coast of California. Hopefully, I’ll be at school in time for our chemistry test.” Tara and Bonnie exchange a glance. Who would hope to get to school in time for a test? One handed, Tara swiftly presses out her next text.

 

”omg, ur in cali?? i’m jelly.”

 

Ange’s reply comes a minute after. ”No, I’m just passing over the state. I was in Beijing this morning. The city has a wonderful Academy of the Sciences. If I didn’t have prior obligations, I would have stayed longer.”

 

The two girls process the information slowly. Tara finally speaks. “Hey, Bonnie,” she continues after Bonnie nods. “Why does she type like my grandma?” 

 

---

 

Team Kim Possible makes it just in time for last period. 

 

Kim flips her hair back, running her fingers through beautiful, red strands. Ron stumbles out of his landing. The white parachute that floated him down lands right on top of him. As he trips, it tangles. The more it tangles, the more he trips.

 

Ange doesn’t have time to admire his Casper the ghost impression. She unhooks herself a foot off the ground. Once the sole of her shoe hits Middleton High’s back parking lot, she’s moving. 

 

“Bye Kim. Love you. Bye Ron. Bye Rufus,” Ange says, zipping straight through the back entrance doors. 

 

“She doesn’t love us, buddy,” she hears Ron’s quickly fading voice say. It makes her snicker as she sprints through the doors. Ange presses hard into the floor to flip over Carson. She lands on two feet - her collar chimes. Darn - and starts her swift weave past the mass of students that line the long hallway. She slips right through the doorway of her chemistry classroom, beating Mrs. Tomic to the entrance by seconds. Ange crouches down, then springs upwards so powerfully her fist brushes the ceiling.

 

“Yippee!”

 

She lands, making sure she doesn’t make a noise this time. When Ange looks up, most of the class is staring at her. Ange is in the middle of giving them a charming - it’s wild. She can feel how wild it is - smile when Mrs. Tomic walks in, carrying a stack of papers.

 

“Ms. Possible, your enthusiasm is appreciated,” Mrs Tomic sounds amused as she says it. “But let's head to our seats and quiet down.” Ange sheepishly heads to her seat, panting in deep, steadying breaths. How does Kim deal with the adrenaline? She catches Tara’s amused eye and gives her a little wave. She catches Bonnie’s eye and pauses mid smile. 

 

An emotion she doesn’t have enough time to identify fades off Bonnie’s face. Bonnie tilts her chin downwards and rolls her eyes at Ange from underneath her eyelashes. Ange sticks out her tongue. It gets the desired result. Bonnie narrows her beautiful, turquoise eyes. Danger is a good look on her.

 

Besides her, Brick Flagg gives her a stupidly adorable smile. Ange forces herself to kindly return it. 

 

She sits down in her seat. A test is placed in front of her. She picks up a crummy, black ballpoint pen from the drawer in her desk and aces it. 

 

---

 

Eventually, all of the tests get returned to Mrs. Tomic and the last school bell of the day rings. Students hustle out of the room, excited for the start of the weekend. Ange lets them leave before getting up herself. Once again, Ange finds herself alone in the classroom. Only in the classroom.

 

Tara and Bonnie are both waiting for her when she walks out. It’s Friday, so the girls are wearing their cheer uniforms. Life is good.

 

“Angie!” Tara says, pouncing on her. “Thank you, OMG.” Tara has slender arms. They feel really nice around her. “I actually understood what was going on!” Ange grins huge and hugs her back.

 

“I aim to please,” Ange says, accurately. It makes Tara rub a cheek against her shoulder. Ange’s heart melts into a puddle right onto the floor.

 

Over the top of Tara’s head, Ange makes eye contact with Bonnie. She’s watching the two of them with an unamused expression. Tara must see her too, because she places a hand on one of Ange’s arms and guides it off of her waist. 

 

“Bonnie,” Tara’s sweet voice teasingly lilts. “C’mon, get over here.”

 

“You’re joking,” Bonnie states. Tara and Ange exchange a glance. Tara flashes her eyebrows upwards. Ange smirks. No words needed. Together, they each reach out a hand and pull Bonnie towards them by her wrists. “Wh-hey!” Bonnie manages to get out. Then Ange places her hand along Bonnie’s spine and Tara slides her arm around Bonnie’s shoulders. They squeeze. Bonnie couldn’t get out even if she wanted to.

 

“This is the good grade club,” Tara announces. She starts swaying from one foot to the other. Ange joins in the wiggling. Bonnie doesn’t. “Grateful subjects to the Queen of Nerds herself, Angie Possible.” Ange feels a laugh bubble out of her throat. It gets stronger when Bonnie’s words get muffled into obscurity. A finger jabs into her side.

 

“Hey!” Ange yelps. Bonnie pulls her head back enough to glare at Ange. Ange returns it. “I am literally a queen. This is not how you treat royalty” 

 

“I outrank you, you dork.” Bonnie finally wraps an arm around each of them. “Queen of the School rules over the nerds. So, like, bow down, loser.” Hmm… Ange stares at the ceiling as she considers it. “...Thanks, though.” Ange looks back down at her with intrigue. “Chemistry wasn’t confusing for once.” Bonnie isn’t looking at her. Her lips are pursed. She’s gripping the back of Ange’s bolero jacket in a tight fist. She looks so cute, Ange has to stop herself from giving Bonnie a kiss on the cheek.

 

“Anytime, Bonnie,” Ange murmurs softly. Bonnie’s lips twitch an iota upwards. 

 

Neither of them see Tara glance back and forth between them. Tara leans her head over and bumps her cheek against Bonnie’s. 

 

“I’m gonna go ahead. See you at practice,” Tara says. She slips out of their arms before either of them can say anything. Tara gives them a grin over her shoulder as she leaves. Ange looks up and down the empty hallway. Then there were two. 

 

Ange goes back to what’s important and encircles her arms around Bonnie’s slight frame. A pleasantly subtle cloud of chilli spice and flowers settles around her. There’s probably a dumb grin on her face. She rests her face on top of Bonnie’s head so Bonnie can’t see. Bonnie lets her. 

 

“Possible,” Bonnie says.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Are you smelling me?”

 

Ange lets herself go very still.

 

“You are such a freak.” When Ange tries to pull away, Bonnie squeezes her arms around Ange’s waist. “Don’t move.” Bonnie orders. Ange feels Bonnie’s face press against her shoulder. “I’m not done yet.” 

 

How could she say no?

 

---

 

When Bonnie gets to the gymnasium, most of the girls are already there. A few of them send curious glances her way. Usually, she’s the first one in. She waves them off. Tara grins at her, which Bonnie also waves off.

 

She does tune into the conversation Tara is having with Marcella, Hope, and Jessica. 

 

“Guess what I scored,” Hope says, grinning at everyone. Bonnie walks over and rests her chin on Tara’s shoulder. “Shrooms, babes.” That gets Jessica’s attention. “Stole ‘em from my brother’s room.”

 

“You’re gonna share, right?” Jessica says. Hope scoffs.

 

“Of course! I’m saving them for Saturday.” Carson’s house was the last on the block. A large forest lined his back yard, perfect for shrooming. Jessica bumps a hip against Hope. 

 

“It can’t come fast enough. I hope the music is good this time. I want to dance.”

 

“Fuck dancing,” Marcella says. She places a hand on a cocked hip, smirking. “I’m going to kiss Josh Mankey.” The girls ‘oooh’ at her. Bonnie rolls her eyes. She wasn’t about to stop Marcella from taking Kim’s leftovers. Marcella catches it, and lifts her chin at Bonnie. “Who are you going to kiss?”

 

“Not everyone is horny like you, Marcy.”

 

“You’re just jealous I’m going to score.” Bonnie gives her a tilt of her head and a look. Marcella blinks. “Yeah, I regret saying that too.” That makes Bonnie grin and the rest of the girls giggle.

 

“We should set up a game of spin the bottle,” Tara says helpfully. “If we get Josh and a few other boys in on it, it’ll be a lot of fun.” Bonnie feels Tara use the side of her head to nudge her. “Get Angie in on it. I want to see her squirm.” 

 

Bonnie thinks about it for a moment. She pictures Angie squirming around in her mind. A slow, dangerous fox smile curls her lips. “Tara, you’re a genius.” The other girls look both intimidated and amused. 

 

“Alright girls,” Kim says, clapping her hands. It’s about time she showed up. “Let’s start stretching. I have an idea for a spankin’ new routine.” Bonnie has to stop herself from retching. Who says spankin’ unironically? Bonnie removes herself from Tara.

 

She freezes in place when she sees Kim. 

 

The makeup helps, but it does not hide the bruise that’s plastered on the side of her face. Kim coming to practice with an injury isn’t exactly new. There was usually some kind of scrape, welt, or cut somewhere on the girl. But… they weren’t serious things. It’s begrudging, and she would never admit it out loud, but Kim is hyper-competent. If Bonnie had to choose anyone to dodge around death-rays, she’d choose Kim Fucking Possible every time. 

 

Death-rays.

 

“Hey Kim?” Bonnie strolls over to her vice head cheerleader. It even looks natural. “I need a word.” Kim frowns at her in thought, then looks at the girls warming up on the floor. 

 

“Right now?”

“Right now.” That gets an exasperated sigh out of Kim. Rude. Bonnie pivots on her back heel and walks towards the locker room. Behind her, Kim’s eyes widen. This is a serious drama. Kim follows Bonnie. Her white sneakers don’t even squeak on the hardwood. The metal door closes behind her.

 

A hand slams into the locker right beside her head. Kim doesn’t flinch, but she does look a little surprised. 

 

“Bonnie, what do you want?” She leans back into the locker and crosses her arms. Bonnie stares at her for a bit, studying her face. Distantly, she registers Kim go from defensive to confused, but her focus is on the caked on foundation on her jaw. “Uh, Bonnie?” Underneath the layers are hints of a deep and purple bruise. “You’re kind of freaking me out.”

 

“Why the fuck do you put yourself through that?” Bonnie blurts out without thinking.

 

For the second time, Kim looks confused. It takes her a moment to process what Bonnie’s asking. “First of all,” Kim says, unapproving. “Watch your language.” Bonnie rolls her eyes. “Second, I’m going to need you to be a little more specific.”

 

Instead of answering, Bonnie pokes Kim in her bruise.

 

“Ow- hey!” Kim slaps her hand away, glaring. Bonnie shakes her hand from the sting, glaring. “What is your ‘ish?” Kim bristles at her. It just fans the heat of anger bubbling away in Bonnie’s chest.

 

“The missions, Kim? Keep up.” Bonnie finally steps backwards. She has to look away. If she keeps staring, she’ll do something they’ll both regret. “Why the fuck would you want to do that? Can’t you, like, die?”

 

There’s silence. At least Kim didn’t say ‘language’ this time.

 

“Are you… worried about me?” 

 

“What-” Bonnie whirls around to stare at Kim, checking if she’s grown a second head. “Of course not!” She crosses her arms to prove how little she cares. “I’m worried for the team, duh. If you die, we’ll have to find some other idiot to replace you.”

 

For a second, Kim looks offended. Infuriatingly, her expression morphs into something thoughtful instead. “Someone has to save the world,” she finally says. Bonnie lets out a snort of derision. For some reason, it seems like Kim expected that.

 

She’s testing me. Bonnie realizes, incensed. “Get the army to do that! That’s why we pay taxes.”

 

“I’m the best in the game,” Kim says, for once not caring about being humble. “And, like, saving the world is kind of a big deal.”

 

“Do you really think you’re irreplaceable, Kim?” Bonnie throws her hands into the air. “Zero your ego. You’re not that important, and you’re literally putting your life on the line, like, weekly?” Kim starts smiling. Bonnie sits down on a bench so she doesn’t launch herself at the redhead. 

 

“People ask for my help, Bonnie.” Kim sits down on the other end of the bench. The look in her eyes is the same look Ange gets when she’s puzzling something out.

 

“No is a complete sentence.”

 

“I don’t want to say no to them,” Kim says gently. Bonnie scoffs.

 

“Don’t give me that BS, Kim. You don’t honestly think your life is worth less than a favor, do you?” When Kim pauses, Bonnie knows she’s found a chink in her armor. “You don’t.” Bonnie states. Now it’s her turn to really look at Kim. “So.” Bonnie rests her weight on her arm to lean in. The bench is cool underneath her hand. “Why do you do it?” 

 

Finally, Kim speaks.

 

“It’s fun.” 

 

Bonnie takes one disbelieving inhale. It’s the only warning Kim gets before Bonnie hurls herself through the air.

 

Kim pushes herself to her feet with one leg. The other plants itself towards the edge of the lockers and she steps to the side. Bonnie flies harmlessly past her. Bonnie lands in a crouch, turns on her heel, and-

 

Forest green eyes float inches away from her face. Kim’s arms reach around her to pin her arms to her torso. Kim lifts Bonnie entirely off the floor, easily ignoring how Bonnie starts kicking her legs back and forth. Bonnie sees red. “Possible, you idiot! What the fuck are you thinking- fun?! You do this for fun?” Kim brings them back to the bench and sits. Now that her feet can touch the floor, she’s able to get more leverage. Yet, no matter how hard Bonnie kicks and writhes, Kim doesn’t let her go. “Don’t you realize how dangerous that is- And you brought Angie into it!? What’s wrong with you!”

 

“Is that why you’re so mad?” Kim sounds amused. “For a second there, I thought you cared about me.”

 

“Who would care about you- She doesn’t know how to fight!?” Bonnie stops flailing. There’s no way she’s going to be able to escape. “Kim,” Bonnie seethes at her. If she wasn’t so pissed off, she’d be kind of proud at how dangerous her voice sounds. “Leave her out of it.”

 

“Are you done?” Kim’s voice sounds behind her ear. Bonnie clenches her jaw so hard it hurts.

 

“...I am.” Finally, Kim lets her go. Bonnie springs to her feet instantly. She pivots around to give Kim the nastiest glare she can manage. No, it gets nastier when she sees the thoughtful smile on Kim’s face. “Well?!”

 

“You should talk to Ange about it,” Kim says. Bonnie narrows her eyes. “She asked me to let her in on my missions.” Kim points out, truthfully. Damnit. Bonnie stomps a frustrated foot into the ground. She can see Kim bite her lip in amusement. Bonnie curls her fist, calculating if she could land a hit on her vice head cheerleader. 

 

It probably wouldn’t land.

 

“If it makes you feel better,” Kim finally says. “Dr. Drakken is… hmm… I think he’s Ange’s friend now?” The fight in Bonnie gets tempered by disbelief. “Yeah, I think it’s crazy too.” Kim chuckles at the expression on Bonnie’s face. “I guess that’s why they call it mad science.” 

 

“...K?”

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“you are such a fucking loser.” Bonnie closes her eyes immediately after the words leave her lips. It doesn’t save her from what she knows is coming next. 

 

“Language.” Kim says. 

 

Bonnie takes a deep breath, holds it for five seconds, then exhales. Then, she looks Kim in the eyes. The smile drops from Kim’s lips when Kim sees what’s in them.

 

“If anything happens to her, I will never forgive you.” 

 

“B,” Kim says.

 

“What?” Bonnie spits out.

 

“If anything happens to her, I’ll never forgive myself.” It makes Bonnie feel a little better.

 

Only a little.

Chapter 45: Chapter 45

The last time Bonnie found herself at the door of the Possible residence, she’d forced Ange into giving her the antidote for neon yellow hair. Today, at least, is going to be more fun. 

 

After she’s finished chewing Ange out. 

 

She knocks on the front door, leans on her back leg, crosses her arms, and waits. It takes a full minute and a half for the front door to open. To add insult to injury, she comes face to face with her least favorite person. 

 

“Bonnie?” Kim says, surprised. “Wow, you look mad.”

 

“Oh, do I?” Bonnie grumps, then gets right to the point. Talking to Kim only reminds her how easily Kim had handled her yesterday. “Where’s your sister?”

 

Kim tilts her head to the side in observance. Infuriatingly, a smile starts spreading on Kim’s stupid lips. “I’m doing great, thanks for asking.” 

 

“Seriously?” Bonnie says.

 

“Yeah, my weekend’s been really fun. I’m going to go see Cukillers, Attack of the Vegetable People later with Ron,” Kim says, smiling harder. They were actually doing this. Bonnie throws her head back and lets out a very annoyed sigh.

 

“Okay, fine! Hi Kim, it’s not nice to see you. I’m glad your weekend is going swell.” She holds a hand up. That’s all she’s willing to give. “Now, where’s Ange?” Thankfully, Kim senses that Bonnie is on her last shred of sanity, because she finally steps back to let Bonnie into the house.

 

“Promise me you won’t murder her?”

 

“I won’t.” Bonnie glares right into Kim’s eyes as she walks into the household. “Promise you, I mean. I’m probably going to murder her. So, like, point me in her direction.” That makes Kim raise an eyebrow at her.

 

“Do I want to know?”

 

“Not that it isn’t any of your business,” Bonnie says. Kim could be so fucking nosey. “But Ange hasn’t answered any of my calls or texts since Friday.” She’s Bonnibel Rockwaller. No one ignores her. 

 

Kim lets out a little, “Ooooh,” in understanding. Finally, Bonnie gets an explanation. “Angie’s in the lab. The reception is terrible down there.” 

 

“She’s been in there since Friday?” Bonnie heads towards the door she remembers James disappearing into from her last visit.

Kim taps a finger to her chin. “Now that you mention it, I don’t think she came to bed last night,” she says. Bonnie stops in place, door half open, and gives Kim a withering look.

 

“Your sister is a disaster, K.” 

 

“And she thinks I’m the crazy one,” Kim smirks. When Bonnie makes it down the end of the long, narrow steps her eyes pop open. The laboratory that she’s heard hints about is nothing like she expected. 

 

It’s a room so large, Bonnie wonders how they got permits for it. The ceiling is at least twenty feet high, the walls are covered in bright, white panels. The entire floor stretches thirty feet in both directions. Somehow, it’s filled to the brim with... calling it ‘stuff’ feels like a disservice. There’s a giant, half finished rocket in one corner. An array of computers are shoved into another, beeping gently every once in a while. When Bonnie looks to her left she sees-

 

“Are those brains?” Bonnie takes a hasty step backwards, bumping into Kim. Kim places both hands on Bonnie’s shoulders to steady her. 

 

“Yeah,” Kim says, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. “Mom likes to dissect them.” The look of pure, terrified horror on Bonnie’s face makes Kim start laughing. “Pig brains! They’re pig brains,” Kim clarifies. 

 

Bonnie lets herself relax, aborting the escape plan she’d been cooking up. Kim pats her on the shoulder, then walks past her towards the farthest left corner. 

 

“Mom keeps the human brains in a refrigerated safe.” 

 

Before Bonnie can make a break for the stairs, a humming noise fills the air. In seconds, it turns into a deep thrumming that threatens to rattle her teeth.

 

Silence.

 

“Yippee! I did it, I did it!” Bonnie hears a familiar voice pierce the quiet. It makes her remember why she came here in the first place, and she starts stomping in the direction Kim went. For the nth time since stepping foot in the Possible household, she stops short. The fact that Kim seems just as befuddled as she helps a little. It does nothing to explain the object in front of her.

 

There’s some kind of mounted ray gun. Bonnie knows enough about sci-fi to identify that. The end of it is still smoking. The other… a plant - at least, the shape of a plant. A void the shape of a plant. Something that demands attention, but cannot be comprehended. Any light that hits it just stops. It must be a solid object, because it’s still swaying from whatever it’s been blasted with. But it just looks like a negative space. Like if she put her hand towards it, she’d go right through it.

 

“Bonnie?” she hears a voice say. Blinking a few times, Bonnie is finally able to look away. Right towards something else that demands attention. Ange is grinning at her. She’s covered in black grease. There are some goggles perched on top of her head, messing up already messy bangs. 

 

Ange is also wearing nothing but a sports bra and those ratty sweatpants that Bonnie hates. Maybe the pants are starting to grow on her. They hang low enough on Ange’s hips to show off her Adonis belt. It’s a very nice belt.  “What’re you doing here?” 

 

An excellent question. It takes her a moment too long to remember. Ange starts to look confused. Kim looks between them, and every time she looks at Bonnie, her face just gets smugger and smugger. 

 

“Why the hell aren’t you dressed?” Bonnie eventually says, shooting Kim a glare of death. Kim, unfortunately, survives it. 

 

“Huh?”

 

“The party, you dolt.”

 

“Wha- holy smokes!” Ange runs over to a desk. The void plant sways when she passes it. Bonnie has to remind herself not to look at it. “Oh man, it’s that time already!” Ange is tabbing through a large, flat screened computer until she lands on her calendar. “Shoot, Bonnie, I’m sorry. I turn my notifications off when I get in the zone.” 

 

“Maybe don’t do that,” Bonnie quips. She walks closer, curious at the technology Ange is using. 

 

“That’s what I keep saying,” Kim says behind her. “If you get her to listen to you, I’ll give you a cookie.” 

 

“I don’t want your cookie.” How old is Kim again? She’s acting like she’s twelve.

 

“You do make some really nasty cookies,” Ange says, still clicking around her computer. It looks like it’s recording data of some sort in the background. 

 

“Don’t take Bonnie’s side- I didn’t say I’d bake them myself!” Kim gasps. The offense in Kim’s voice brings a smile to Bonnie’s face. Something interesting flashes across the screen. Bonnie reaches out and pokes Ange’s side. The bare skin is warm on the pad of her forefinger. Ange stops her work to look at Bonnie. 

 

“Go back two pages,” Bonnie orders. Ange turns back to the screen and tabs back twice. Then once more, very quickly. “Angie!” Bonnie presses her finger harder against Ange until Ange starts to squirm away. “Do what I say!” 

 

“I don’t wanna!” Ange whines. This time, Bonnie digs in her fingernail and watches in satisfaction as Ange shudders. “It’s- It’s private!”

 

“I saw my name on it,” Bonnie says, twisting her finger. It makes Ange let out an adorable little ‘eep’. “If it’s about me, I get to see it.”

 

Frustratingly, Ange bites her lip, but doesn’t move. Bonnie narrows her eyes, then turns to look at Kim. Kim is wearing an oversized t-shirt and some awful looking capris. Normally, Bonnie would retch at her, but in this case, it’s perfect. She’s also looking at them with some kind of wide eyed, stupefied expression. Bonnie won’t acknowledge it.

 

“Hey, K?” Bonnie says sweetly.

 

“Uh… Yeah?” 

 

“I’ll eat your cookie if you catch Ange for me.” Bonnie ignores Ange’s ‘Hey!’ to focus on Kim. Bonnie gets a frown back for her efforts. What was it and Possibles not listening to her today. 

 

“Ange said it was private, though,” Kim says after some thought. Bonnie will have to sweeten the pot.

 

“I’ll let you decide our routine for opening day,” Bonnie says. Football season starts next Friday. She smirks when Kim twitches. “I won’t talk shit about it. Not even once.” 

 

“Language,” the two sisters at the same time. But, Bonnie’s gambit works. Kim looks at Ange, Ange looks at Kim. Slowly, Ange’s face morphs into betrayal. They spring to life at the exact same time. Kim punches off of her left foot in a blur. Ange digs her right into the ground and explodes leftwards. She makes it ten feet in the time it takes Kim to plant her feet onto the edge of Ange’s computer desk and vault in her direction. 

 

Honestly, Bonnie’s impressed how quickly the two sisters can travel through space.

 

She turns back to the computer and tabs back to what Ange had tried to hide from her. Turquoise eyes widen a fraction. Behind her, Ange says something about being a little guy - which, is like, a terrible descriptor. Bonnie guides the mouse over and opens up the file. Piles and piles of data, organized onto a neat Macrosolid Exceed spreadsheet pour onto the screen. It makes Bonnie’s mouth fall open.

 

“Angie?” Bonnie doesn’t look away at the sight. “Why do you have a file called ‘Bonnie Rockwaller’s psychological profile - Sophomore year’ on your computer?” 

 

“Nooooo!” Something crashes behind her. 

 

Bonnie turns around just in time to see Ange careening straight over her head to collide with the computer monitor. It, and her, fall to the floor behind the desk. On the ground, Ange pulls the screen’s plug out of the desktop, smashes it onto the floor, and then tries her best to stomp it into tiny, crumpled bits. 

 

Silence. Except for the sound of Ange, hunched over and panting like an animal. 

 

Kim walks up besides Bonnie, eyes wide at what she’s just witnessed. Her clothes are now smudged with the same black grease that Ange is covered in. Bonnie only spares her a brief glance before going back to observing her weirdest friend. 

 

“Private! That’s private!” Ange jumps up and down on the dead monitor. “A-and entirely normal! I have profiles on everyone! Okay!? You can ask Kim!” To Ange’s credit, Kim nods.

 

“She really has one on everyone,” Kim says to Bonnie. Then she smirks. “Ange lets me see mine, though.”

 

Bonnie narrows her eyes. 

 

“Kim!” Ange lets out a strangled whine. “Not anymore, I won’t. But I’ll be sure to add that you’re willing to sell your sister out for a cheer routine on it.” 

 

“It’s opening night, Ange,” Bonnie says. “That’s like, almost more important than Regionals.”

 

“And I get to design the routine.” Kim nods smugly. “It’s going to be ferociously cool.” Ange glares at her. It becomes more thoughtful with time. 

 

“You didn’t catch me, though,” Ange eventually says. “So you didn’t honor your end of the deal.” Turquoise and green eyes go wide. Bonnie’s in delight, Kim’s in anger. 

 

“That is such a good point, Angie,” Bonnie purrs out. She gives Kim a superior side-eye as she walks around the table towards Ange. “You were good enough to escape. Maybe I should give you Kim’s cookie.” Kim rolls her eyes when Bonnie reaches up and pats Ange’s head. Her hair is wet from sweat, which is kind of gross. But, touching Ange is worth it if it annoys Kim.

 

“Ange, you’re supposed to be on my side,” Kim grumbles out. Bonnie notices that despite the argument between them, they aren’t actually mad. They aren’t vicious, either. She tries to picture her acting like this with Lonnie and Connie and literally can’t. 

 

“You’re not supposed to sell me out for opening night,” Ange points out. She nuzzles into Bonnie’s hand, but is careful not to get any lubricant on her outfit. It’s acts like that that make Bonnie appreciate her so. “So, we’re even Steven.”

 

“This is like, touching, and all,” Bonnie says. She pulls her hand away and wipes it on a clean part of Ange’s pants. She has strong legs. "But we’re on a time limit.” 

 

“Oh, right,” Ange refocuses. Then she kicks her crumpled up monitor underneath the desk, vaults over it and heads towards the stairway. “I’m gonna go shower. I’ll see you upstairs. Don’t touch anything down here.” She disappears up the stairs, then pops her head back into view a second later. “I’m serious. Some of this stuff will genuinely kill you- Oh, Bonnie, do you want a tour?”

 

“Shower.” Bonnie commands. Ange gives her an amused and warm grin. 

 

“Yes, your majesty.” Her head disappears again. Bonnie can’t hear her footsteps. The bell on her neck doesn’t ring once. When they hear the sound of the door closing, Kim turns to Bonnie. Bonnie looks at her, unamused. 

 

“What?” Bonnie says.

 

“Will there be drugs and alcohol?" is the first thing Kim says. Bonnie stares at her until she feels stupid. “Okay, okay, I get it.” Kim rocks back and forth on her heels. She’s watching Bonnie ponderously. “So, uh, Bonnie?”

 

“What?” Bonnie says again.

 

“Why does Ange call you ‘your majesty’?”

 

Bonnie puts her hands on her hips, tilts her chin in the air, and starts sauntering her way back upstairs. “Because I’m royalty, Kim.” Despite her demeanor, Bonnie can’t keep the smile off of her lips. “Duh.”

Chapter 46: Chapter 46

Ange makes sure that Bonnie arrives to the party on chariot Red Dented Mountain Bike. Not only is it convenient, eco-friendly, and good exercise, but Bonnie also slides a hand around her stomach. Carson’s house - a triple story mcmansion - is thumping with a heavy beat. Inside the windows of the first floor, lights flash in rhythm. Ange is certain to stop as slow and smoothly as possible right in front of the place. Nothing but the best for the queen of the school, yada, yada. Bonnie hops off first before she sways her leg over the body of the bike in a lazy arc.

 

“Why do you even ride this thing?” Ange hears her say from behind. Gripping the rubber handles, Ange starts walking it behind a hedge. “And before you give me any eco-whatever crap,” Ange grins. Bonnie is really getting to know her. “It looks like it’s thirty years old. A new bike isn’t going to destroy the climate.”

 

“It is thirty years old,” Ange glances over to see Bonnie walking behind her. She slows down enough for Bonnie to catch up. “It was my dad’s. He gave it to me when I said I’d be going to yours for our polymer project.” How many chapters of her life ago was that? Once they’re safely hidden in a shadow, Ange engages the kickstand and lets it be. “It works just fine, so why not use it?”

 

“It makes you look like a bum,” Bonnie points out. Ange smiles. 

 

“Appearances do matter,” Ange says, somewhat agreeing with her. “But this is high school. I don’t need to care until I’m in college.” That makes Bonnie give her an evaluating look. Ange looks back. For the party, Bonnie put on a lovely purple dress that stopped above the mid thigh. Lovely mid thigh.

 

After a decent pause, Bonnie finally comes to a conclusion. “Then you should start practicing now.” She brushes past Ange and towards the house. “So you're already good at it.” 

 

This time, Ange catches up to Bonnie. 

 

“Before we go in,” Ange says, eyeing the entrance. A few teenagers are already at the door, and they clamber through with clumsy exuberance. “Is there anything I should know so I don’t, uh, totally embarrass myself?” 

 

Bonnie holds up one of her beautiful hands and starts pointing off as she lists. “Don’t fuck on Carson’s bed,” Ange mumbles a small ‘language’ that Bonnie ignores. “If you’re going to barf, do it outside or in the toilet.” She isn’t exactly planning on drinking, but it’s good to know. “If someone offers you drugs, take half and wait.” Ange isn’t going to do that either. “Also, make sure your man wears a condom.” Bonnie turns to stare at her out of the corner of her eye. “If you get pregnant at a party I took you too, I think Kim will lop my head off and let your mom dissect my brain. Which I’m way too pretty for.” 

 

She opens her mouth, processes what Bonnie just said, then closes her mouth. Finally, she settles on, “...I’m not planning on having sex with any boys.” Ange can feel the flush on her traitorous cheeks. Bonnie lets out an amused snort and reaches over to flick her shoulder.

 

“Done stalling?”

 

Darn. Bonnie is really getting to know her. 

 

“I guess I am,” Ange sighs in wry defeat. The smile Bonnie gives her has just a hint of softness that makes her stomach flip and go yippee. Without a word, Bonnie turns forward and leads her through the door.

 

Inside is a different world. 

 

The Land of the Unchaperoned Teenagers is a dark reflection of the school dance. The lights are lower, the music is louder, the dancing is closer. Teenagers are clumped in one end of the room, bouncing along to an old MC Honey song. Others are lounging on the couch, having separate conversations. Even more stand around, drinking from red solo cups and laughing. Ange sees more than one couple making out. She doesn’t watch too long. Their hands are not in polite places.

 

Ange follows Bonnie to wherever she pleases. She loses track of how many people greet Bonnie as she parts the crowd. Sometimes, Bonnie stops for a second to say something back. Usually, she gives them a sly smile or a little nudge. Always, she smooths past them towards her goal, which turns out to be a kitchen full of alcohol and snacks. Some people are hanging around, munching and drinking. Bonnie says hi to them as she walks in - how many people does this girl know? 

 

Ange helps herself to a double slice of pepperoni pizza. She’s midway through her first bite when Bonnie shoves a cup against her chest. She catches it before it can spill.

 

“Drink,” Bonnie orders. Ange eyes it, then her. 

 

“There’s alcohol in this, isn’t there?” 

 

That makes Bonnie huff out some exasperation. “You’re a scientist, right?” When Ange nods, Bonnie grabs her hand and lifts it towards her face. “Then find out for yourself.”

 

Ange can feel the rim of it touch her lips, but she’s way more focused on how smooth Bonnie’s skin feels. She takes a sip without thinking and immediately screws her eyes shut. Hateful burning fills her mouth. The only reason she doesn’t spit it out is because she doesn’t want to ruin Bonnie’s pretty dress. After she swallows, she places the rest of her drink on the counter. 

 

“Augh!” The look Ange gives Bonnie makes her laugh. It’s beautiful. “What was that?”

 

“Vodka-cranberry.” 

 

“And you drink that for fun?” Ange shoves a pizza slice in her mouth to get rid of the taste.

 

“It certainly helps.” Bonnie picks up the cup, places her pretty lips on the rim, and throws the rest back. A frog spontaneously teleports itself into Ange’s throat. The pizza has to worm its way past the thing to get to her stomach. “But we haven’t even gotten to the real fun.” 

 

Bonnie makes a come hither motion with a finger, ensnaring Ange. Ange follows stupidly after her. Maybe Bonnie is some sort of succubus. It would explain a lot. 

 

They make it to the hallway before some of the cheerleaders find them. Marcella and Crystal stand back in amusement as Tara swoops Bonnie into a hug. Tara starts shaking Bonnie by the shoulders. 

 

“Eeee! About time you got here!” If Ange had tried that, Bonnie would stab her with a fingernail. Tara gets special privileges. 

 

Bonnie lets out an adorable little giggle and hugs Tara back. It has the added effect of stopping Tara’s shenanigan. 

 

“Where have you been, girl?” Crystal says. Ange makes sure to give her a charming grin when Crystal catches sight of her. Ange happily notices that Crystal smiles back. 

 

“Kim wanted to talk to me about the Friday cheer routine,” Bonnie waves a hand. Tara grabs it out of the air and places it on her head. Bonnie starts running her nails along Tara’s scalp, seemingly without thinking about it. Lucky. “Let's not mix work and play.” 

 

“I can live with that,” Crystal says. “Keon’s got a crew upstairs.” She tilts her head towards the stairs at the end of the hall. The movement makes her beautiful auburn curls bounce. “They miss you.”

 

“Hmmm.” Bonnie glances side-long at Ange, scritching underneath Tara’s chin now. Mega lucky. “Possible,” a playful and dangerous lilt enters her voice that sets Ange’s instincts off. She’s too busy watching Tara melt half way onto Bonnie to care that much. “Let me show you where the real fun is.” 

 

“Cool,” Ange says, following the girls to her eternal doom. Probably.

 

---

 

There were two slices of pizza in Ange’s hand when they were downstairs. After Bonnie crests the last step and looks back to make sure her Angie is still following, they are somehow gone and Ange is chewing the remnants. Bonnie considers asking how she did that, then thinks better of it. It would probably be a gross answer. Ange sees her looking and returns it with a goofy, trusting grin. Poor thing. Bonnie almost feels guilty about where she’s taking Ange. Almost.

 

Carson’s house has a big family room on the second floor. There’s a huge TV mounted on the wall, a couch big enough for twelve, and a room specific stereo system. It’s playing the Oh Boyz much lower than the music thumping through the floor from downstairs. Bonnie takes a moment to scan the room. Brick, Marcella, Josh, Crystal, Keon, Tara, Riley - Bonnie pauses to stare at him for a brief moment - Clover, Carson, Ange, Max, and herself make twelve. Not a bad spread. The others look up as she enters and break into grins. They greet her with a many voiced “Bonnie!” that brings a smile to her face. 

 

Just a little edge. 

 

“Come on over,” Brick shuffles his massive body to the side. On his face is a golden retriever smile. Bonnie lets her smile warm a little and walks over. She doesn’t notice how Ange pauses mid step behind her.

 

“You get to sit with us,” Carson’s voice sounds out. Bonnie settles beside Brick and looks over. Ange is regarding Carson, and for a split second, her eyes are colder than any glacier. The expression captures Bonnie’s breath in her lungs. Then Ange pastes a neutrally content grin on her face and sits between Carson and Max. 

 

“Hi boys,” Ange says, glancing between Carson and Max. “Go easy on me, alright? I’m new.” 

 

Max raises a cool eyebrow. There’s a pleased grin on his face though. “Just this once, Possible.” An hour before this, Bonnie had dressed Ange in a wavy mini skirt and a tight, white turtleneck. The black lace thigh highs and garter combination is all Ange, though. Normally, Bonnie wouldn’t have tolerated the double play, but.. They look really nice on Ange. 

 

Eyecatching, even. 

 

So why does it bother her so much when most of the boys give them an appreciative glance?

 

“Ladies,” Marcella says, drawing Bonnie out of her thoughts. “Gentlemen.” Marcella sweeps smiling eyes around the entire room before landing on Josh. Slowly, Josh starts to smile. “I propose we play a game.” From behind her, Marcella pulls out a half full bottle of rum and shakes it above her head. The amber liquid splish sploshes around. “Spin the bottle, or drink. Or, drink and spin the bottle. Whatever you want.”

 

Keon whoops. “I like your style, Marcy! Let’s do it.” It’s enough to get everyone on board. Since Marcella brought it up, she’s the first to place the bottle in the middle of the group and twist. Clover is the first pick. Marcella walks over to give her a light peck on the lips. As she pulls back, she rolls her eyes. Clover’s started waggling her eyebrows.

 

Clover lands on Carson, Carson on Riley - they give each other mutual grimaces before Carson opens up the bottle and takes a swig - Riley on Crystal, Crystal on Josh, and when Josh Mankey puts his hand on the bottle and spins it, it lands directly on Ange. 

 

Bonnie freezes in place. All of her attention hones in on Ange, just in time to see her blue eyes go very wide. It’s almost adorable, except Josh Mankey is about to kiss her. When Ange looks up blankly, Bonnie is the first person she makes eye contact with. Bonnie doesn’t let anything show as she tilts her chin in a slow nod.

 

“Cool,” Ange says. A viper in Bonnie starts coiling around and hissing. Ange looks at the rest of the group before finally landing on Josh. Marcella is mid fume when Ange opens her mouth. “Can, you like, kiss me somewhere else. You’ve made out with my sister.” That makes Josh start laughing. Marcella blinks in surprise, Bonnie unclenches her fists, grateful that Ange thinks quickly. 

 

Josh isn’t good enough for her anyway.

 

“Point,” he says. When he shuffles over to her, he gives her an almost brotherly kiss on the forehead. Bonnie can see Ange’s shoulders sag a little in relief, and only because she’s staring. Bonnie’s lip twitches as Ange realizes it’s now her turn to spin the bottle and they re-tense. 

 

Ange has attractive hands. Pretty isn’t the right word. There are too many scrapes and old scars along the palms and fingers for them to be pretty. Somehow, they’re still feminine, and they’re very nicely proportioned. Bonnie stares at Ange’s hand as it firmly grasps the bottle of rum. She flexes her wrist and spins. Around and around it goes, fast at first, and then it slows. 

 

Then it stops.

 

Bonnie stares straight down the shiny glass barrel of the bottle. From the opposite end, she hears an ‘oh,’ that makes her look up. 

 

Her heart stops, then trips into double time. Ange is watching her. “Okay,” she hears Ange murmur. She’s gently chewing on her lower lip, and there’s a subtle blush forming on the tips of her ears. Otherwise, Bonnie can tell that Ange is being very certain not to give away her thoughts.

 

Interesting.

 

“Angie,” Bonnie says, smirking her biggest fox grin. She holds her palm to the sky, extends her pointer finger outwards, and slowly curls it back in. Ange watches the movement with too much attention. Her voice falls into a low, seductive murmur without realizing it. “Don’t be shy. I won’t bite unless you ask.” Satisfyingly, the blush Ange had been fighting spreads along each of her cheeks. It’s beautiful - she’s beautiful. A realization Bonnie keeps coming to again and again. 

 

An anticipatory and intoxicating haze blankets the rest of Bonnie’s thoughts.

 

Ange puts her hands on her knees and pushes off of the floor. As smoothly as Ange pretends to move, the bell chiming with each step gives her away. Turquoise eyes track her as she circles around the group to stand in front of Bonnie. Then, Ange drops onto one knee in front of her.

Slowly, Bonnie rests her chin onto her palm. She stares down at Ange, Ange looks up at her. Blue eyes look away first. From this angle, Bonnie can admire how long Ange’s copper eyelashes are.

 

Slowly, Ange reaches out to Bonnie’s free hand. Rough and calloused fingers grasp her manicured palm. Ange’s grip is as gentle and warm as a summer breeze. But Ange has always treated her gently, hasn’t she? Bonnie gives Ange’s hand a curious squeeze, a tremor shakes Ange’s entire arm. 

 

The room has gone silent. Neither of them notice. Blue eyes flick back up to regard her one more time. Bonnie feels a thumb run along her knuckles, making it her turn to shiver. That makes Ange’s lip twitch upwards. Brat. Bonnie watches Ange start her movement. It’s the last thing she sees before she lets her eyelids flutter closed into the safety of darkness.

 

Notes:

I'd say sorry for ending on a cliffhanger, but i'm really not sorry at all.

Chapter 47: Chapter 47

Notes:

:3c

There is nothing in this room that matters more to Ange than Bonnie’s hand in hers. Long nails painted dark ocean blue, soft and tanned skin, the elegant way her ulnar styloid process angles from her forearm back into her wrist. It might be as close to perfection as a human can get.

 

Or Ange is just gay and stalling because she’s playing spin the bottle, and her bottle landed on Bonnie. Ange has to do something before this gets weird.

 

What would mama do?

 

She knows what mama would do. Ange lowers her head, pressing her lips to the back of Bonnie’s hand in sacred prayer. She breathes in Bonnie’s scent. Fingers tremble against her mouth. Ange lets them for one infinite moment.  

 

Ange pulls away and opens her eyes. What she sees makes her blink in surprise.  

 

Bewildered fury is plastered across Bonnie’s red face. Her stare is wide eyed and wild, It’s nothing Ange has ever seen before. “What-” Bonnie starts, then stops. Her jaw hangs wide open. “What the fuck was that?!” Bonnie sputters, clenching and unclenching her hand like she’s unsure what to do with it.

 

Ange quickly lets her go. Suddenly, breathing is incredibly difficult. Ange swallows through it once. It’s the only sign that slips past her. “Uhm,” Ange says, voice glass smooth. “A… kiss?” 

 

“That- you call that a kiss?!” 

 

Ange refuses to analyze why a tidal wave of relief washes over her. Bonnie is angry only because she played the game wrong. “Isn’t it? I just kissed you-” Ange stutters out. Bonnie starts bristling at her, so she pleads her case. Talking is better than thinking. “Give me a break! This is my first time, okay?” Ange flaps her hands in the air to emphasize her point. “I’ve never played this game before.” She even goes so far to point at Max. “Even Max said he’d go easy on me!”

 

Behind her, Max nods. “I did say that.” 

 

Bonnie looks past her shoulder at Max, screwing her face up in disbelief. Then she pinches the ridge of her nose. 

 

“I can’t believe-” Bonnie must have made some kind of decision, because she gets up onto her knees and grabs Ange by the fabric of her turtleneck. Abruptly, Ange finds herself very close to Bonnie’s face. She stares into beautiful turquoise eyes, helplessly memorizing where the flakes of hazel and white are located in Bonnie’s irises. 

 

“Alright, Possible,” Bonnie hisses like a viper. She reaches past Ange for something, not once breaking eye contact. “I’m going to show you how to give someone a proper kiss.” Liquid sloshes around the bottle as it spins. “So watch and fucking learn.”

 

Finally, Bonnie lets the fabric of Ange’s shirt go slack. Ange falls back onto her heels and nods dumbly. 

 

“Good girl,” Bonnie says. Ange’s higher brain function stutters to a halt. 

 

Then Bonnie looks at who the bottle is pointing at and clicks her tongue. “Clover, be a dear and get over here.”  

 

“Oh boy,” Clover says. There’s the sound of shuffling coming closer.

 

When Ange is able to think clearly again, Bonnie has her hand around the back of Clover’s neck. Bonnie curls her fingers. Her nails catch against Clover’s skin, and the girl visibly shivers. Ange only has a short time to wonder why Clover looks so excited before it begins. 

 

Perfect, cherryglossed lips press against Clover’s mouth, not too hard, but not soft either. Bonnie’s other hand lifts up to cup Clover’s chin. Gradually, Bonnie starts deepening the kiss. She leans forward, pressing Clover backwards. Bonnie’s mouth opens, and Ange catches a mesmerizing flash of teeth. When they nip against Clover’s lower lip it elicits a breathless whimper that makes Ange feel warm. 

 

Then, Clover is on the ground, on her back, and Bonnie is hovering over her. Ange is pretty certain she sees Bonnie’s tongue slide into Clover’s mouth. The subtle and wet sound of kissing fills up the quiet room.

 

If Ange bothered to look around, she’d see everyone watching the show with dropped jaws and wide eyes. She doesn’t bother. She needs to watch as Bonnie moves her mouth. Beneath that, Ange can make out a tongue making very deliberate and controlled movements. Each motion makes Clover blush harder and shudder more. 

 

Clover fills the room with a whimpered moan.

 

That seems to be enough for Bonnie. She sits back up on the carpet, panting ever so slightly. When she turns her gaze back to Ange, she pauses, then raises an eyebrow. Ange smothers the electricity out of her eyes. From somewhere, Bonnie pulls out a compact and starts checking her makeup. 

 

“That’s how you kiss,” Bonnie says lightly. She pulls out a tube of her favorite lipgloss and starts reapplying it.

 

“Mmhmm…” Clover says in a dazed and giddy sigh. She sits up shakily, grin stretching her lips from one ear to the next. If Ange concentrates, she can see proverbial hearts floating around Clover’s head. “Great kiss. Thanks Bonnie.” 

 

Bonnie grunts in acknowledgment. 

 

“Oh,” Ange says, smartly. She openly stares long enough for Bonnie to look at her.

 

The emotion on Ange’s face makes her scoff. “Oh my god, Ange,” Bonnie says. “Chill the ish, alright? It’s so no big.” 

 

“Huh?” Ange says, smartly. 

 

To her credit, after Bonnie is done rolling her eyes, she lets out a sigh and starts to patiently explain. “It’s just practice,” Bonnie says obviously. Her compact closes with a snap. “Kissing between girls doesn't count.” 

 

Ange looks around the room. Some of the other girls are nodding along like this makes perfect sense. 

 

“Good to know,” Ange says. She doesn’t know how to tell them it counts for her. “Uhm… Thanks for the lesson?”

 

“Just go back to your seat, Possible.” Ange goes back to her seat. 

 

When the game resumes, Ange tunes it out. If Ange had kissed Bonnie - an actual, real, heartfelt kiss, would Bonnie view it as only an act of friendship? Why does that answer matter so much? Ange clenches her fingers into her palm so the sharp points of her nails can ground her. Even though this has been a reminder that her preferences aren’t the norm, Carson’s second floor family room isn’t the time or place for introspection.

 

The first thing Ange notices as she switches her attention back towards the room is that the bottle is spinning. The second thing she notices is that Bonnie is watching her. Carefully. 

 

Immediately, Ange pulls any and all emotion off her face. She doesn’t want to think about what Bonnie might have seen. To distract herself, she offers Bonnie a smile instead. It will have to be enough. 

 

The third thing she notices is that the bottle has come to a stop pointed directly at her. 

 

“Wowie,” Tara says. She’s sitting with her chin propped on her knees and a mischievous spark in her eyes. “Angie, does this mean I’m gonna be your first kiss?” 

 

“I, uh,” Ange says. Then she lets her smile widen. “I guess so. I’ll try not to disappoint." It freezes on her face when Tara gets on her hands and knees and crawls towards her. Maybe this is how a rabbit feels when a fox bares down on it. 

 

Compared to Bonnie’s sharp eyes and tanned skin, Tara is a different type of beauty. Platinum blonde hair floats around her face as she moves. Her cheeks are adorably round. The ridge of her nose has a subtle upwards curve. Tara’s eyes are a shock of vibrant, bright blue. They’re also very observant, Ange notices. And trained right at her.

 

Ange doesn’t let herself move, quietly tracking Tara as she gets closer and closer. When they’re close enough for their noses to brush against each other, Tara stops. “Don’t worry,” Tara murmurs soft enough for only her to hear. “I won’t judge, ‘k?”

 

What a nice girl. 

 

Ange wraps her hand around the back of Tara’s neck and leans forward. Her eyes slide closed, so she doesn’t notice Tara’s go wide. Ange presses gently into warm, soft lips. Her mind stumbles several steps before Ange forces it into high gear. She parts her mouth faintly, deliberately curling her nails against Tara’s neck so she gasps. As Tara’s jaw slackens, Ange slides her tongue gently into Tara’s open mouth. When Tara doesn’t push her away, Ange slides the tip of her tongue along the flat of Tara’s. It elicits a satisfying whimper. She repeats the movement. 

 

A hand reaches up and grabs onto her shoulder. Tara leans closer to her. Ange huffs in warm satisfaction through her nose, pressing her other hand against Tara’s cheek. When Tara responds by sucking gently on her tongue, Ange shudders. She didn’t know that was allowed. 

 

Tara’s other hand fumbles onto her stomach, which flexes instinctually. It makes Tara start stroking her flat palm up and down. Even though Ange’s shirt is trapped between them, burning follows each touch. Her breath grows unsteady, her mind hazes over, Ange is midway through pulling Tara onto her lap when someone lets out a wolf whistle. 

 

Ange freezes. Tara pulls her head back, catching her breath. Out of the corner of Ange’s eye, she sees Keon lean over to smack Riley upside the head. 

 

“Man, you ruined the show,” Keon grumbles, but he turns his attention back to them shortly after. Many faces grin hungrily at them. Ange has to fight to keep her hackles from raising. 

 

“There’s no way that was your first kiss.” Tara says, drawing Ange’s attention away. Tara settles herself fully onto Ange’s lap, then takes one of Ange’s arms and wraps it over her shoulder. Holding her lets some of the tension leech away from Ange’s ribcage. “That was way too good.”

 

“It was,” Ange says, then clears her throat. “I mean,” she continues at a lower octave. “It was, I was just, uh, following Bonnie’s lesson plan.” Ange looks up at Bonnie. 

 

Her mind immediately starts analysing at lightspeed. In front of her, there is a single split second where Bonnie is completely unguarded. Her eyes are wide in… would it be too much to assume anger? Her fists are clenched by her side. The jut of her jaw is too tightly strung, her mouth twists too severely. Then Bonnie leans backwards onto one of her hands, melting into arrogance. 

 

“I give it a B minus,” Bonnie says, glancing casually at her nails. “Do better, Possible.” 

 

Ange lets herself snort. She’s still trying to figure out why she saw what she just saw. She comes to a decision. “Maybe next time,” Ange finally says. “I don’t know about any of you, but I’m kind of thirsty.”

 

For some reason, that gets a lot of laughing out of the group. Even Tara starts giggling from Ange’s lap. Max reaches over and claps her on the shoulder. Ange smiles once, mildly confused. 

 

“You’re alright, Possible,” Max says. Ange’s words must have ended the game, because people start to stand up and go. Riley gives her a look before following Max and Keon out. 

 

Before Tara stands up, she leans over to murmur against her ear. “That was fun. If things don’t go your way, maybe we can practice sometime?”

 

Ange spontaneously combusts. At least it feels that way. Her cheeks are definitely on fire.

 

“Hey Bonnie,” Brick says, smiling that dopey puppy dog grin. “Do you want to, like, go get some drinks with me?”

 

“Yes,” Bonnie says, getting off the floor. “Something strong.” 

 

As Bonnie walks past her, Ange catches her hand. “Bonnie, can I talk-” Ange inhales when she sees the fierce storm swirling behind Bonnie’s eyes. 

 

“What do you want, Possible?” Bonnie says sharply, more than impatient. Ange doesn’t let herself flinch. She does relinquish Bonnie’s hand. She turns aside to study the weave of the carpet instead. 

 

“It’s nothing important,” Ange ends up saying, curling her hands into fists on her lap. Coward. 

 

She doesn’t see how Bonnie hesitates. She does hear Brick lift his massive body off the floor and walk past her. As he does, he drops a hand over Bonnie’s shoulder. After a beat Bonnie follows along. As they make their way out the door, Ange turns towards it to get up.

 

She does see Bonnie tucked against Brick’s side, a strong and protective arm draped over Bonnie’s slender back. It’s good that Ange is only crouching, because her knees go weak. They hit the carpet with a quiet thump. Ange goes back to studying the rug’s pattern. 

 

She doesn’t see Bonnie turn to look at her over her shoulder. She does hear the door close shut behind the couple, leaving her alone in an empty room. 

 

Numbly, Ange hugs her knees to her chest and she doesn’t let herself cry.

 

---

 

When Ange leaves the room, she is as brittle and smooth as obsidian. 

 

Riley is leaning against a wall with a drink in his hand. How long has he been waiting for her? Ange can’t bring herself to care. She lets herself form a carefully neutral smile. Riley falls into step beside her as she walks by. 

 

“Hi Riley,” Ange starts, not looking anywhere but ahead. Her tone is friendly, but not familiar. “What’s up?”

 

“Ooh, nothing much,” Riley grins. He runs his free hand through his hair. It shows off the flex of an impressive bicep. Ange notices this all through the corner of her eye. “Just hanging around.”

 

“In an empty hallway?” Ange prompts him. It’s best to get this over with sooner than later. 

 

“Well-” It gets a nervous laugh out of him. “I guess so.” 

 

Okay, time to be more direct. Ange stops walking and turns all of her attention to him. She knows how intense her gaze can be. She lets her blue eyes bore into the boy. It makes Riley gape for a few moments. 

 

“And it’s fun?” Ange says, light as a feather. She even adds some teasing into her tone. 

 

Riley’s face goes a little red. It’s a shame she isn’t inclined towards men. Not only is he handsome, but he’s very cute too. “No-” Ange raises an eyebrow at him. “No, I mean-” Riley’s Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows. “I was actually waiting for you.” 

 

“Oh?” Ange tilts her head to the side. “What for?”

 

The boy takes a shaky breath, then throws on a very handsome smile. “Do you want to go to the game with me? Next Friday, I mean.” 

 

“Are you asking me on a date?”

 

Riley’s face goes bright red. He nods mutely. To spare his feelings, Ange pretends to think about it.

 

“I’m flattered, Riley,” Ange says, arranging her features into a frown. “But I must decline.” 

 

“Huh?”

 

“I don’t want to date you.” 

 

“Wha-” Riley’s face falls. He almost crushes the drink in his hand. Ange watches a few drops splash onto the ground. “Why not?”

 

“Do I really need to justify myself to you?” Ange frowns for real this time. Riley grimaces. 

 

“Well, it’d be nice to know what I did wrong.” 

 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, Riley.” Ange says. “I just don’t want to date right now.” 

 

“Oh,” Riley says. There’s an evaluating look in his eyes that makes the hair on the back of her neck rise. “No, I get it. You’re probably busy, right?”

 

“I am.” Ange decides it’s time to go. She turns back towards the hallway leading to the stairs and starts walking. The next words she hears makes her stop mid step.

 

“Would it be different if I was a girl?” When Ange turns around, Riley is observing her. She doesn’t let it bother her. He’s not nearly as good at it as Bonnie. “You didn’t seem too busy when you were kissing Tara,” Riley continues. “Or too busy to come to this party.” 

 

If she shows any hesitation, Riley will know, which means the school will know, which means Bonnie will know. That’s not how Ange wants Bonnie to find out. It needs to come from her mouth. 

 

On Thursday evening, Bonnie had rested her head on Ange’s shoulder, looked Ange in the eyes and called her a fucking snake. Maybe someone else would have been offended by that. But when Bonnie had stared at Ange back then, it felt like she had stripped down every single wall Ange had ever built and laid bare the heart of her soul. Because, no matter how kind or thoughtful Ange acted, Bonnie had been right. 

 

She is a snake. And she knows exactly what needs to happen. 

 

So, she lets her lips curl into an amused fox-smile. Pity shines through Ange’s eyes. Her eyebrows furrow upwards into sympathy. It makes Riley’s face warp into confusion. Good.

 

“Is this how you will react to every girl that rejects you?” Ange says, hammering in the last nail. 

 

As expected, after a moment, Riley deflates. “No.” He sighs, then takes a long sip from his drink. “I guess I was being a dick, huh.”

 

“You guess?” Ange says with real amusement. 

 

Riley chuckles wryly. “I was being a dick. I’m sorry, Ange.” What a good boy.

 

The tension Ange had been hiding unravels into relaxation. She reaches up and pats him on the arm. “I forgive you.” That makes Riley relax too. “Maybe we can be friends, though?” 

 

“Oh.” Riley breaks into a handsome smile. His brown eyes shine underneath the hallway lights. “You actually want to be friends after all that?” Ange nods. “Then- yeah. That sounds- Well, that sounds baller.” 

 

Ange lets her eyes gently squint in a cat’s smile. She decides to offer an olive branch. “Then, if you don’t have a date by Friday, as a friend, I’d love to go to the game with you.” It actually makes Riley wiggle a bit. She can relate. 

 

Riley reaches over and places a large hand onto her shoulderblade. “Then, I think we’ve got a deal, Possible.” Ange lets him keep it there. She nods towards the steps, he catches her drift. Together, they make their way down the stairs and join the rest of the party.

.

Chapter 48: Chapter 48

A boy and a girl walk down the stairs together. That’s all anyone needs to see before assumptions are made. The fact that Riley has a hand on Ange’s back, and the fact that Ange smiles at something he’s just said, is really just confirmation. 

 

Rumors start immediately. Like a stone dropping into a lake, they ripple through the crowd, from mouth to ear to mouth to ear. A never ending pattern of information that may or may not be correct. Bonnie already knows to take it all with a grain of salt. She herself has started more than one half truth. Accuracy isn’t paramount to scandal, after all. So, when Bonnie hears the first whispers of a new couple, and who is in that couple, she’s willing to give it the benefit of the doubt. 

 

If she drinks the rest of her vodka cranberry (more vodka than cranberry) in one long pull, that’s her business. 

 

Brick, the adorable brute, lifts off the leather couch next to her in the living room and disappears into the kitchen to get her another. Normally, Tara would be sitting besides her on her right. Right now, she’s on the other side of the room, talking to Hope and Jessica. Maybe she can sense that Bonnie doesn’t want her around. Looking at her is really pissing Bonnie off right now, and Bonnie doesn’t want to think about why. Marcella is much more tolerable. 

 

“Wow, I didn’t think he had it in him,” Marcella says. Her voice is barely audible over thundering bass. She’s leaning against Bonnie’s shoulder, legs thrown over Josh’s lap. If Bonnie bothered to look, she’d see the intrigue on Josh’s face. Madison, looming over the back of the couch and the bearer of the bad news, nods along.

 

“Honestly, I thought she was gonna turn him down. She said so in chem a while ago.”

 

“I guess I kind of see it,” Marcella says after a moment of thought. “Riley’s cute.” 

 

Bonnie is only half paying attention. If she concentrates, she can still feel Ange’s lips against her fingers. The memory brings a flush to her cheeks. Or the alcohol is kicking in. Her chest certainly feels a little fuzzy. 

 

Maybe Bonnie wouldn’t be in such a funk if Ange had kissed her properly? She didn’t buy the first game excuse. Not when Ange had seen everyone else play a round. So it must be something else.

 

“Am I cute?” Josh says to Marcella in a laid back drawl.

 

“More than cute.” Marcella grins and kisses him on the cheek. 

 

Before Bonnie had left the room, Ange had wanted to talk to her about something. Bonnie still remembers the vulnerability in those blue eyes when Ange took her hand. It was definitely something important. And Bonnie had snapped her teeth at her. Why did she do that? It had left Ange… 

 

Bonnie shuts her eyes. The couch compresses as Brick sits back down. When he hands her another drink, Bonnie takes a long sip.

 

The last thing Bonnie had seen in that room was Ange, sitting on her knees and staring at the carpet. She’d looked so fragile, like a touch could shatter her. The memory makes her foot start tapping onto the floor. 

 

“Holy shit,” Marcella’s voice brings her out of her thoughts. “There they are.” And that makes Bonnie turn her head to look. 

 

Riley is across the living room near the makeshift dance floor. Standing next to one of his broad shoulders is Ange. She’s watching him demonstrate a move. It’s actually a pretty good one. Ange watches intently for a few cycles, then she lowers her center of gravity and starts mimicking him. It makes Riley’s jaw drop open, then it makes him laugh, and that makes her laugh. Bonnie finishes her second drink.

 

“Woah,” Brick’s voice sounds beside her ear. “Are you okay, Bonnie?” She doesn’t usually drink this quickly. Why does Brick know that? 

 

“I’m fine,” Bonnie says. Her voice is as sharp as a knife, but it’s hard to hear her tone over the music. 

 

On the other side of the room, Ange pushes on Riley’s chest until he takes a few steps back. Then she gets down on the floor and does the fucking worm. Of course she does. Bonnie can see Riley clutch his belly and let his shoulders shake in big, stupid guffaws. He’s not the only one in the crowd to do so either. When had Ange gotten so good at winning them over? 

 

Ange finishes her wiggling and starts to get up. Bonnie sees Riley hold his hand out for her to take, which she does while grinning like a loon. It’s a sight Bonnie wishes she could forget.

 

Bonnie clenches her fists to stop them from shaking. Her cup crumples without resistance. 

 

As Riley is pulling Ange back onto her feet, Bonnie throws her solo cup behind her and climbs onto Brick’s lap. He’s handsome and sturdy. The man from any girl's dream. Together, they would make a perfect pair. The vice head cheerleader and the future star quarterback. It just makes sense. 

 

“I’m going to kiss you now,” Bonnie says. She sees Brick’s eyes go very wide in excitement. It’s almost enough to make her forget.

 

“Oh,” Brick says. His smile is as warm and goofy as a golden retriever. “Score!” Brick cheers, letting his hands rest against her hips. They’re too big. She’ll get used to it. Bonnie rolls her eyes at him, then leans in and presses their mouths together. It’s enough to make her forget. 

 

It is.

 

It has to be.

 

---

 

One of the best things about being Kim Possible is the freedom.

 

Not from the public. Kim deals with fans and the press almost every time she goes outside of Middleton’s boundaries. The masses love her, and unless anything goes terribly wrong, they will continue to keep their eyes on her. It’s as annoying as it sounds.

 

The freedom Kim has is the ability to wander. The American government wouldn’t bat an eye if she walked into area forty two (fifty one was a red herring) and asked to borrow some alien equipment (they do exist). If she had to, she could probably talk her way into the Vatican’s forbidden archives. Kim has rescued enough people in enough places that she essentially has a world wide blanket of goodwill. It’s as nice as it sounds.

 

That’s why, when she’d shown up in the head director’s office for The Metropolitan Museum of Art and asked for after hours access, it had been granted without a second’s hesitation. 

 

The MET after dark is an entirely different world. It's big and quiet and empty enough that any sound echoes against its towering walls. The paintings along them are certainly nice to look at, even if most of them are cast in inky shadows. Maybe she should pay more attention to Ange’s next art rant. Kim casually strolls towards the newest exhibit, and every step she makes is ghost silent. 

 

When she arrives, she peers inside from the doorway. The only illumination is the light pollution New York City offers up every night. It filters through the large glass sunroof at the top of the three story tall ceiling. The shine of priceless gold and jewels makes the entire room sparkle. The brightest shimmer belongs to the exhibit's flagship piece - Cleopatra’s Emerald Eye, uncovered months ago by a famous archeologist Kim doesn’t remember the name of. Lana Broft? Whatever.

 

The point is that the emerald is on a world tour. It will be in the United States of America for one week only. 

 

Shego wouldn’t be able to resist the opportunity. If Kim knew her, and Kim did know her, she would strike on the first night. The emerald could tantalize the public, but Shego would not let them get a proper taste. If Kim’s wrong, then at least she gets the night in one of the coolest museums in America. 

 

An hour and a half proves Kim right. 

 

Two leather clad boots touch down onto the floor. One of them is green, the other is night black. They don’t even whisper. Shego lifts out of her crouch to her full height. She flicks her long and beautiful hair behind her. Claws run through the strands, idly tidying them as her lightning green eyes scan the room. They pause on Cleopatra’s Emerald, then continue in a slow and steady path around the entire perimeter. When Shego is satisfied, she grins and turns back to the prize.

 

Then she ducks right underneath Kim’s sudden roundhouse kick. “What-?!” Kim says, more than a little frustrated. 

 

Shego pivots immediately. As she straightens out of her turn she hurtles her left fist towards Kim’s face. Kim leans backwards in time to feel the wind brush against her nose. Instinct takes over. 

 

Her hands grasp down on Shego’s powerful forearm. It’s a solid mass underneath the catsuit, but Kim can’t afford to dwell. Bracing her backfoot onto the ground, she twists around completely. Shego’s arm is wrenched completely over Kim’s shoulder, then Kim pushes off of her legs to send the thief flying clear across the room. 

 

How did she know I was here? Kim watches Shego turn a tumble into a graceful rotation of hips and shoulders. It pulls her right onto her feet. When Shego is finally steady, she regards Kim with a tilted head. 

 

“Hi Kimmie,” Shego holds her hands behind her back, looking around one more time. “Have you been waiting all evening for moi?” Kim gives her an unamused stare. “I’m flattered.”

 

“Shego.” Kim falls into Mantis form, making sure to keep herself between Shego and Cleopatra’s Emerald Eye. “We both know how this is going to end. Why not just give up now and spare us the pain?”

 

A low hum vibrates deep from Shego’s throat. “Spare you the pain, you mean.” She pushes off her back foot right into a sprint. Her long legs eat up the distance in seconds. 

 

Kim is already moving. Knowing Shego will dodge it, Kim still throws her right fist forwards. Shego weaves to the side, straight towards Kim’s left hook. Before Kim can make contact, Shego whips her arm out and snakes it around Kim’s striking arm. Shego doesn’t even grunt when Kim’s punch gets absorbed into her solid shoulder.

 

“I don’t see any of your friends around,” Shego says in the brief lull. “Is it just the two of us tonight?” 

 

Then, Shego pushes forwards with the force of a freight train, forcing Kim to choose between stuttering her steps backwards or breaking her arm. She chooses the third option. In a single fluid movement, Kim grips both hands around Shego’s bicep, swings her hips forwards and hooks a foot over Shego’s shoulder. With her center of balance completely disrupted, and her range of movements severely limited, Shego is forced sideways onto the floor.

 

“I told you, I don’t need backup to deal with you,” Kim says. 

 

On the ground, Shego lets out an impressed whistle. It shouldn’t make Kim’s chest bloom with pride. It does anyway.

 

“Wow, Kimmie,” Shego says. “You’re bringing your A game tonight.” Kim can feel Shego start to move beneath her. Kim knows she’ll lose the battle of strength between them. It doesn’t stop her from trying to contort Shego’s arm behind her. She’s gifted with a grunt, and smirks. 

 

“We both knew how this would end,” Kim says, just in time for Shego to flex. The raw power Kim can feel coming from Shego’s frame makes her shiver. This time, there’s nothing she can do to stop Shego from dragging her entire body upwards, to the side, then down onto the floor. A hand presses against Kim’s upper chest, keeping her in place. When she next opens her eyes, she’s staring into electricity green. 

 

“Don’t be so arrogant,” Shego murmurs, throwing a leg over Kim’s waist to straddle her. It’s kind of annoying that Shego got her into this position again. “It’s a bad look on you, Princess.” 

 

Before Kim can stop herself, she speaks. “Why do you call me that?”

 

“I-what?” 

 

“Princess.” Kim can feel her face starting to heat up. She does her very best to ignore it. “Why do you call me Princess?” There’s a beat of silence. Kim can tell Shego is trying to catch up. “Also Cupcake and Pumpkin. What is up with that?”

 

“Well, I just do.” Shego is blinking down at her, still surprised by the sudden shift of atmosphere. “Do I need a reason?”

 

“Kinda,” Kim says. She looks to the side so she doesn’t have to see Shego’s next reaction. “Angie thinks you’re flirting with me.” 

 

“Flirting?” Kim hears Shego’s breathless laugh. She’s not sure how to react to that. “What- she thinks I’m flirting? With you.” The way Shego’s tone drops lower at the end cuts into Kim’s pride. It makes her purse her lips. 

 

“Aren’t you?” Kim peeks at Shego without moving her head. There’s disbelief on Shego’s face. Evaluation as well. “I mean, it’s kinda flirty.” 

 

“It is not.”

 

“Cupcake?” Kim replies very pointedly. 

 

“I’m just throwing you off your game, Kimmie.” Shego frowns down at her. “Seriously, don’t read into it.” 

 

Kim frowns back. “So I’m not good enough to flirt with?” She tries her best to keep the hurt out of her voice. She’s not as good at it as Ange. 

 

“Woah, okay.” The hand pinning Kim into the ground disappears. The air that replaces it is cold. “Listen, Kimmie,” Shego’s says. Her voice is very carefully light. “You’re real cute, alright? Whoever you end up with will be really lucky.”  

 

“But?” Kim hates herself for letting her voice waver. She hates herself even more when Shego winces. 

 

“But, I’m ten years older than you.” Shego circles a finger down at her, then quickly pushes Kim’s arms into the ground when she starts to move. Arguably a smart move. Kim had been planning on punching her. 

 

“Why does that matter- I kick your butt all the time!” 

 

“Debatable,” Shego growls, though there might be a hint of amusement in it. “Fine, let me explain this in a way you can understand. Remember when you were twelve?”

 

Kim doesn’t want to use her voice, so she nods instead. 

 

“Were you a completely different person back then?” Another more begrudging nod. “By that logic…?” Kim’s eyes prick enough to be uncomfortable. She goes back to looking away from Shego.

“I’ll be completely different by the time I’m eighteen,” Kim mutters. 

 

“There we go,” Shego nods in approval. “You’re way too young to be dealing with me, Kimmie.” Kim opens her mouth. “I’m not about to wait around either.” Kim snaps her mouth shut and swallows thickly. Every breath Kim takes shakes and hurts. How does Ange deal with this?

 

…What would she do in this situation?

 

Kim knows what Ange would do. She turns her green eyes upwards at Shego and lifts an eyebrow. “You think I’m cute?” Kim says. It makes Shego’s mouth fall open. The smugness Kim gets from that is just enough to sell the smirk curling at her lips. 

 

Shego blinks down at her, then lets her eyelids slide halfway shut in deadpan exasperation. “I’m leaving now.” 

 

Before Kim can react, Shego is off of her. Kim scrambles onto her feet, just in time to see her hairdryer grappling hook in Shego’s grasp. Kim pats her hands over her utility belt. The holster she stores her grapple in is completely empty. “Hey- That’s mine-”

 

“Doy,” Shego says, setting it off. It secures itself to the ceiling with a metal clank. “I’m a thief,” she points out, obviously. Kim lunges. Shego flies into the air just in time to miss Kim’s latching hands. Kim has to look upwards into the city’s light. It casts Shego in a dark, shadowed silhouette. “It’s kind of my thing.”

 

The last glimpse Kim gets is a pair of electric green eyes looking at her. They refract light with an eerily animalistic glow. Then Shego disappears through a hole melted into the glass of the sunroof. Kim waits thirty seconds to make sure she’s really gone. Numbly, she turns around. Cleopatra’s Emerald Eye is still locked safely in its case. 

 

Good. Mission accomplished. 

 

Quietly, Kim sits down on the cold floor and tucks her knees to her chest. She stares at the emerald for a long time. It’s the only thing she can think to do. Then, she closes her forest green eyes and only allows one tear to trace down her cheek.

Notes:

this one is sad, but that just makes the eventual payoff sweeter

Chapter 49: Chapter 49

Notes:

OMG i broke 100k words. i never thought i'd get this far

Bonnie leaves the party with Brick. 

 

Ange learns about it fifteen minutes after, when she hears Marcella talking to Madison about it. For some reason, Josh leans his head back into the couch and wordlessly holds a fist up for her. She bumps it against her own, smiling and confused. 

 

When Ange spends five entire minutes staring at the doorway, she decides it’s time to go. 

 

She says goodbye to the trio, then to Riley - who gives her a very drunk and warm hug - then she wanders around until she finds Tara outside in the backyard, watching over Hope and Jessica. They meander around on unsteady feet in the low cut grass lawn. Ange walks up besides Tara, looking at the two cheerleaders with open fascination. Tara glances at her out of the corner of her eye, then smiles mischievously. 

 

“The ‘shrooms kicked in.” Tara says by way of explanation. Ange blinks at the girls, then turns to blink at Tara. “I’m trip sitting.”

 

“But you’re standing up,” Ange says.

 

A brief look of surprise flashes over Tara’s face. “No, it means-” When Ange starts grinning, Tara huffs and smacks her shoulder. “You’re such a nerd, Angie.” 

 

“You knew that already,” Ange says. Hope walks over to an apple tree in the middle of the yard and gives it a hug. It brings a little wavering smile to Ange’s face. Tara notices, of course she does. Ange can’t bring herself to hide it. Tara knows what she is anyway. 

 

“I feel like I messed everything up,” Tara says after a long moment of silence. She goes back to watching Hope and Jessica, not smiling. “I’m sorry.” Jessica has followed Hope’s example. Together, they’re staring at the fairy lights hung up in the tree’s branches. 

 

“Not your fault,” Ange murmurs. To comfort Tara, or maybe to comfort herself, she reaches her hand out and grabs Tara’s. “It…” She could talk about her feelings, not that she has any. Or how she didn’t really expect Bonnie to… If she doesn’t think about it, she can still deny it. Not that there’s anything to deny.

 

She feels Tara squeeze her hand. “It doesn’t matter anyway. I just want her to be happy, y’know?” 

 

That gets Tara to snort. “Good luck with that.”

 

Ange chuckles wetly. “I was gonna go home,” Ange replies. “But, uhm, are you going to be able to get home alright?” 

 

That finally gets a hint of a smile out of Tara. Surprisingly, she leans up onto her toes and kisses Ange on the cheek. “You’re really sweet, you know that?” Ange feels herself go bright red. Her mind scrambles to catch up to the present. “I’ll be fine. I was gonna spend the night anyway.” 

 

Not trusting her voice, Ange nods dumbly at her. Tara looks amused at it. 

 

Ange can see the moment Tara decides to tease her. “I was being serious about practicing,” Tara says lightly. Ange squeaks. Tara giggles. 

 

“L-let me think about it.” That makes Tara lift an intrigued eyebrow. Maybe she didn’t expect Ange to consider it? “I- uhm... I don’t want you to be, like...” Ange chews on her lip. “I think the people’s terminology is a rebound?” When Ange gets the courage to look at Tara again, she sees shock on Tara’s features. Then Tara lets go of her hand to throw her arms around Ange.

 

“Aw, Angie,” Tara says. Her voice is more tender than Ange has ever heard. “It doesn’t need to be that serious.”

 

Ange hesitates for only a moment before pulling Tara against her side. “I guess not,” Ange mumbles against Tara’s ear. All of Ange’s instincts tell her that going down that path would make it serious anyway. She indulges herself just enough to let her hand press against the back of Tara’s waist, then she pulls away quickly after. Being held felt too much like pressing down on an exposed nerve. “I’ll see you around, Tara.” 

 

“See you,” Tara rocks back onto her heels. The grin on her face is kind-eyed and radiant. Ange stamps it into her mind before she turns around, circles the house, and gets onto her red, dented mountain bike. 

 

Ange didn’t let herself cry inside of Carson’s family room, and she doesn’t let herself cry on the long ride home. Crying would make all of it real. She stores her bike in the garage, then walks up the two stairways to get to the attic bedroom. She takes off the Bonnie approved outfit she wore and puts on her ratty sweatpants and oversized t-shirt. Then, she sits down at her desk and stares at her little green toy soldier. 

 

By the time Kim gets home, hours later, none of it is real. 

 

---

 

Ange is at their desk when Kim slides in through the attic window. That sucks, because Kim was really hoping she wouldn’t have to deal with anything right now.

 

“Hey, Angie,” Kim hears herself say. Kim lets her hair curtain over her face. She can already tell she looks awful, but Ange doesn’t need to know that. Not yet. Instead, Kim walks farther into the room and starts uncinching her utility belt. It hits the floor with a heavy thump.

 

“Oh,” There’s a pause. “Wow, good morning,” Ange sounds surprised. “How was your mission?”

 

“Spankin’,” Kim says. Then she winces. There was too much bitterness there for Ange not to notice. She hears the chair Ange was sitting on move, but she doesn’t hear any footsteps, nor does she hear the chime of any bell. She’s not surprised by the hand that takes hers. 

 

“Kim?” Ange tugs on her arm until she turns around. Whatever Ange sees on her face makes her eyes widen. Then, almost immediately, Kim finds herself in the warmest hug she’s had in a very long time. Ange is almost an inch taller than Kim is used to. The height difference means Kim’s face naturally slots against her neck. 

 

Naturally, she buries her face against it. 

 

When Kim trembles, Ange squeezes her a little tighter, then takes them towards their bunk bed. She sits, arranging Kim on top of her lap with careful and gentle intent. Ange rubs circles against Kim’s back. Kim clutches Ange’s t-shirt in tight fists, forever grateful that Ange is letting her make the first move. Eventually she finds it in herself to do so.

 

“I think I like girls too,” Kim says. Her voice is a raspy croak.

 

“Oh,” Ange says. Kim doesn’t need to see her face to know she’s connecting the dots. “Oh.”

 

Kim feels Ange kiss her temple. “I’m sorry.”

 

Kim hums appreciatively. There’s a thousand other words that could be said. Kim doesn’t want to hear them. Not right now. There’s also a moment of weightlessness as Ange pulls her along, falling backwards onto the bed. The sisters don’t say anything for a long while.

 

“Bonnie and Brick are dating,” Ange eventually says. It’s a moment of solidarity that Kim knows Ange won’t ever elaborate on. “I’m happy for them.” Kim lets her stay under the blanket safety of plausible deniability. 

 

“...Hey Ange?” She props her chin onto Ange’s shoulder.

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Wanna split a gallon of ice cream and watch awful movies all day?”

 

For the first time since Kim got home, Ange laughs. “There is literally nothing that I want more.” Ange pauses. “Let’s make it two gallons... And a burger.” For the first time since she got home, Kim laughs too.

 

---

 

“HI BONNIE!” Ange yells, dropping down from the actual fucking ceiling.

 

“AAH!” Bonnie yells. Starting from a middle split, Bonnie springs upwards into the air a good five to six feet. A pair of strong arms hook her torso and legs before she tumbles back onto the gymnasium floor. Instinctually, Bonnie wraps a steadying hand around Ange’s neck. It helps her feel Ange’s frame shake with silent laughter. When Bonnie turns to glare at her, it becomes audible.

 

“Possible!” Bonnie storms. She shoves the fingernails of her free hand into the underside of Ange’s jaw. All five of them. It makes Ange shake, which she entirely deserves. “You asshole!”

 

“Sorry!” Ange says. The grin on her face undermines it. Bonnie digs her nails in harder. It lets her feel the way Ange swallows. “I couldn’t help myself.” Ange tilts Bonnie back onto her feet, then steps backwards a few times. Likely away from Bonnie’s claws. Bonnie considers following after her. “You’re cute when startled.” 

 

“Ange?” Bonnie waves both of her hands in front of her. “What the fuck?” 

 

“Is that a weird thing to say?” 

 

“It makes you sound like some kind of animal.” 

 

Ange reaches up to run her thumb and forefinger against the leather on her neck. That hadn’t rung once, had it? “Woof.”

 

Bonnie is already rolling her eyes. If she's going to pretend to be an animal, then Bonnie might as well treat her like one. She points her finger at the ground right in front of her. “Get over here, Possible.” Ange thinks about it for an infuriating moment, then makes her way over. “Grovel, or I’m not gonna forgive you.” Instead of falling to her knees like she should, Ange blinks dumbly at her.

 

“Pardon?”

 

“Ange, you know I hate repeating myself,” Bonnie says sharply. She reaches over and tugs at Ange’s tank top. “Don’t be rude and do what I say.” The look in Ange’s eyes stops her short. Evaluation is normal, the haze of gloom layered underneath it is entirely new.

 

Instead of grovelling on her knees, Ange reaches down and grasps her hand. She lifts it towards her face. For one heart stopping, eternal moment, Bonnie expects Ange to press her lips against Bonnie’s fingers. Again. Wide turquoise eyes track them as they go past Ange’s mouth. Higher, until the back of her knuckles brush through Ange’s messy bangs.

 

“I’m sorry I scared you, Bonnie,” Ange whispers gently. She leans her forehead the rest of the way against Bonnie’s hand. 

 

Then she ruins the moment. “I may or may not do it again.” 

 

“Augh!” Bonnie jerks her hand back and clutches it to her chest. Her fingers feel like they’re burning. “You’re such a freak, Ange.” She's going to pluck Ange’s eyebrows again. They're starting to get a little bushy.

 

Ange just gives her a pleasantly neutral smile and takes a half step backwards. Cold fills every single cell in Bonnie’s body.

 

“What kind of makeup do you have planned for me today?” Ange says, distracting Bonnie from the ice. “How do you even pair it with this outfit?” Bonnie had picked out a full body, light grey jumpsuit. The top of it is tied around Ange’s waist, and a tank top and sports bra is the only thing keeping her modest. It’s kind of a butch fit. If Riley couldn’t handle that on her, he would be an even bigger piece of trash than Bonnie assumed. 

 

“Smokey eyes are in,” Bonnie says, tilting her head towards the benches. This time, Ange follows her wishes. “They’re kind of wild, though. Let's see if you can even pull them off.” 

 

As Bonnie settles beside Ange, pulling out her makeup kit, she feels Ange’s gaze on her. Bonnie turns to stare right back. 

 

“What?” Bonnie says flatly. She’d missed the emotion on Ange’s face by a microsecond. 

 

“If anyone can apply them well, it would be you,” Ange says. They both know she wants to say something else. They also know she won’t. “I’ll try and do you justice.” Finally, Ange closes her too-focused eyes, and Bonnie can work.

 

In the silence, it's easier to ruminate on the minute difference in their dynamic. Ange is sitting an inch farther away than normal, an apt summary of how Ange had treated her this entire morning. Wouldn't she have held her longer last week? Or maybe, Bonnie is just imagining the distance. It’s annoying to admit, but she could admit that she sometimes, very rarely, overreacts. 

 

Very rarely. 

 

“So,” Bonnie starts, trying to push her worries out of her head. “How's Riley?”

 

Finally, Ange looks at her again, puzzled. “Riley?” Bonnie stares at her ocean blue eyes as she nods. The gray eyeshadow was actually bringing them out really well. “Oh. Uhm, he's a nice boy.” 

 

That's an odd way to describe her boyfriend. Bonnie shouldn't have been surprised. Ange is a total weirdo. 

 

“He's willing to admit to his mistakes,” Ange says with a pleased smile. “And he's fun to dance with. Do you want to see me do the worm?”

 

“No,” Bonnie says, succeeding on not sounding too grumpy. “Maybe.” She grips Ange's arm before she can get up. “Not now, you dork. I'm not done.”

 

“Oops,” Ange says, not sounding the least bit sorry. “Do you dance?”

 

Bonnie looks at her. 

 

“Not ballet. I know you're wonderful at that! Like, modern stuff.” 

 

“I'm fantastic at it,” Bonnie says, watching as Ange's eyes unfocus. Perhaps Ange is thinking about her dancing? Bonnie lets herself smugly grin just a little bit. “We should go clubbing sometime.”

 

“There are under eighteen dance clubs here?”

 

“Get a fake I.D. like the rest of us.” 

 

Ange gasps, legitimately scandalized. “I can't do that! My parents will ground me again.” Bonnie still needs to figure out why she got grounded the first time. Ange is annoyingly tight lipped about it.

 

“You don't want to dance with me?” Bonnie says innocently. It makes Ange's eyes go very wide. Then Bonnie observes her as she starts thinking.

 

“Wouldn't you rather go with Brick?” Ange says after a moment.

 

Bonnie feels the pleasant mood she'd been building crumble away. “No.”

 

Ange looks confused. Bonnie recovers quickly. “The last time we danced together, he stepped on my feet. Besides, going dancing with girls is more fun.”

 

Bonnie watches Ange’s eyes go unfocused as she thinks about girls dancing. She lets Ange contemplate as she finishes up the eyeshadow.

 

“I could probably sneak into a club,” Ange says by the time Bonnie's done. 

 

“How is that any different from getting a fake I.D.?” 

 

“There's no physical proof I broke the law,” Ange says, almost too quickly. It makes Bonnie laugh.

 

“Wouldn't Kim be mad if she found out?”

 

“Are you planning on telling her?” That's a good point. Bonnie squints her eyes in thought, then shakes her head. Keeping mutual secrets from Kim was quickly becoming one of Bonnie's favorite hobbies. Ange gives her a pleased grin. 

 

“Then it's settled,” Bonnie says. “We're going dancing.” She is going to make certain Ange would become a better dancer than Riley. His name reminds Bonnie of something else. 

 

“Hey, have you ever been on a date before?” 

 

“W-what?”

 

“That's what I thought,” Bonnie says. When Ange clicks her tongue and starts pouting, she snickers. “I'll help with that too. Maybe after opening night.” This Friday's football game would need all of her focus. Wrestling out a proper routine with Kim is always a major chore. Bonnie taps her finger to her chin.

 

“What does that mean-” 

 

“Quiet, Ange,” Bonnie gives her a bombastic side-eye. “Can't you see I'm thinking here?” 

 

“W-well, yeah, but-” Ange flaps her arms up and down. “What do you mean by help-” 

 

“OMG,” Bonnie says. Ange likes to talk way too much, sometimes. “Ange, I'm trying to figure out some cheerleading stuff. Zip it.”

 

“But- but what about-” Okay, clearly Ange needs some help regulating herself. Bonnie places a hand on Ange's cheek. It succeeds in making Ange freeze in place, if only for a second. It's all she needs.

 

“Buh?” Ange asks helplessly. 

 

“I'm doing this for your own good.” 

 

Bonnie reaches towards Ange's face with her other hand. Ange tracks the movement, almost mesmerized.

 

“Wh-I'm so confu- OW!” 

 

Bonnie pulls her tweezer back, evaluating. Eyebrows were tricky things. Plucking the wrong hair would absolutely break them. She ignores Ange’s wet, fearful eyes as she reaches back up to tear off her next victim.

 

 

Chapter 50: Chapter 50

Notes:

one milestone after the other. chapter 50 babeyyy

this one i had to struggle through tho

“Hello, Ms. Rockwaller,” is the first thing Bonnie hears when they arrive at Ange’s locker. Then she hears, “Good morning, Angelus,” and she tries not to get annoyed that Ange got a good morning and she didn’t. Donavan isn’t all that. His opinion hardly matters.

 

“Good morning, Donavan,” Ange greets brightly. It makes the boy smile, and that makes Bonnie scowl. “Did you have a good weekend?”

“It was lovely.” Donavan speaks in very measured tonality. It makes him hard to read. Bonnie is pretty certain he seems pleased. “And you?”

“Oh,” Ange says mysteriously. She starts the process of retrieving her textbook. “There were ups and there were downs.” 

 

Is she talking about being rebuffed after their game of spin the bottle? Bonnie starts bristling, but it’s only because she doesn’t know what to do with the shame starting to well up in her chest. 

 

“Overall, I think I enjoyed it.” The locker door closes with a click. As Ange turns back towards the two, she pauses. Suddenly, Bonnie feels a light hand on her shoulder. Ange doesn’t ask her if she’s alright, which Bonnie appreciates. The high school hallway isn’t the time for personal talk. She does give Bonnie a sweet, somewhat worried smile. 

 

Bonnie nods out a reassurance. 

 

After Ange has turned her back to Bonnie, Bonnie looks away and wonders how she managed to get Ange to be her friend. Then she notices Donavan looking right at her. Her eyes narrow into slits, and he takes a step backwards on instinct. It’s good to know she hasn’t lost her touch. 

 

They head to Bonnie’s locker. Ange stops in her tracks when they turn the corner. Bonnie runs into her very solid back with an “-oof! Ange, watch it,” Bonnie grumbles, poking a nail into her very solid side. Ange doesn’t even flinch. When Bonnie looks up, she understands why. 

 

Brick is leaning against the wall right beside her locker. When he catches sight of them, his face breaks out into a sunny smile and he waves one of his large hands. Bonnie lets her face morph into an excited grin. “Hi, Brickie!” she calls out to him, skipping forwards a few steps. It makes him puff out his chest, which is kind of cute. Of all the boyfriends to have, Brick wouldn’t be the worst. 

 

“I’ll be right there,” Bonnie says, turning towards Ange. 

 

She’s never seen colder eyes in her entire life. 

 

Then Ange blinks, and they’re gone. She looks at Bonnie with a teasing smile and a flash of her eyebrows. The juxtaposition is so severe, Bonnie wonders if she even saw anything. “So, like, is this going to be a boyfriend girlfriend thing? I don’t want to intrude.”

 

“Don’t overthink it,” Bonnie says, watching Ange carefully. “We’re all going to the same place.”

 

That seems to be enough for Ange, because she nods her head. But when Bonnie walks over to hug Brick, she stays two steps behind. And when Bonnie gets her textbook out of her locker, Brick is the one who offers to carry it. 

 

And Ange lets him.

 

---

 

“Hello, Ms. Rockwaller,” is the first thing Bonnie hears as she steps out of her AP American History class. It makes her pause in surprise. Donavan is waiting by the door, wearing his ginormous backpack and clutching a few notebooks in hand. She hears Max’s voice behind her speak up.

 

“Donny, you have some balls showin’ up here.” He steps past Bonnie, grinning and rolling his shoulders. “C’mon, lemme show you the inside of a locker.” Donavan eyes him, clutching his notebooks tighter. He doesn’t step backwards, but straightens his back instead.

 

“It’s Donavan, Mr. Falcon. I have something important to discuss with Ms. Rockwall- Oomph!” Max grabs him by the collar of his dorky shirt, smirking. Donavan is so slight, and Max is so strong, he’s able to pick Donavan up with one arm. 

 

“Sure you do, bub.”

 

“Max, it’s whatever,” Bonnie says. When Max turns his surprised eyes towards her, she just shakes her head. She’d promised Ange to get the boys to lay off Donavan anyway. “Just go to class, I’ll take care of it.” Unlike Bonnie, Max has the later lunch period. Just like Donavan. So what was he doing here?

 

“Make it quick, Donavan,” Bonnie says, turning quickly down the hallways. She hears him scramble to catch up a few seconds later. 

 

“I was contemplating the, ah… ‘ish,” Bonnie cringes. “Regarding Angelus’ recent world saving hobby.” 

 

“Don’t ever say ‘ish again.”

 

“I regret saying it too,” Donavan says.

 

Bonnie doesn’t let her lip twitch. “Just spill already. I want to eat lunch this century.”

 

“Angelus doesn’t have experience against super villains,” Donavan says, adjusting his glasses. Then he pulls out the notebook at the top of his stack. “So, why not control the variables.”

 

Variables? Bonnie shoots him a disbelieving glance. “Donavan, what kind of nerd shit are you talking to me about?” 

 

Donavan counters with a withering glance. It dies quickly when she glares. “W-well, if we could get Angelus more experience in a controlled environment, wouldn’t that make it easier for her to handle the real thing?”

 

“...” Bonnie stops in front of her locker. Brick isn’t here this time. He also has second period lunch. “So... you want to give her a fake villain?”

 

“A fake super villain,” Donavan corrects. Bonnie rolls her eyes skywards and starts putting her books away. “In a safe environment. Distinctly lacking death-rays and, er... self-destructing mechanisms.” Bonnie swears she hears him mutter why is that even a thing? Which, like, is kind of a good question.

 

“Okay, it sounds like a stupid plan,” Bonnie says, closing her locker door and leaning on it. Donavan frowns, but doesn’t comment. “But let's say you go through with it. Why are you telling me?” 

 

An open notebook is presented to her, full of calculations and a tight, efficient list of notes. At the bottom is a printed out photo of Donavan, except there’s a handlebar mustache scribbled over his lip. The title Bakery Boy? is written next to it, and something about how awful it is to steal forty cakes. Bonnie can’t bring herself to read it all.

 

“...I am very good with numbers, Ms. Rockwaller. They come to me readily. Unfortunately, I lack creativity.” Donavan closes his notebook, looking mildly embarrassed. He should be more embarrassed, in Bonnie’s opinion. 

 

“And… why does this have anything to do with me?”

 

Donavan raises his eyebrows. “You’re creative,” he says, like that explains everything. Really, it only explains a fraction of this… ‘ish. 

 

“Are you asking me to make a supervillain persona for you?” 

 

Donavan nods. Bonnie frowns in thought. There’s an interesting detail she needs to explore.

 

“Why do you even think I’m creative?”

 

“Oh,” Donavan looks down and to the side. He shuffles nervously from one foot to the next. Bonnie gives him her full attention now. “I don’t think I should say.” 

 

“Donavan,” Bonnie says. Her tone makes Donavan hunch his shoulders. He starts thumbing through his notebooks, trying to ignore her. Fine, then she would test him. “Are you being a creep and stalking me or something?” Donavan’s eyes go very wide with fear. Internally, Bonnie smirks.

 

“N-no, of course not- I would never-” His lips stretch his cheeks downwards in a grimace. “Angelus might have mentioned it once or twice.” 

 

“Did she?” A small thrill runs down her spin. A thoughtful, fox-like smirk plays across her face. “What else did she say?” When she doesn’t get an answer, she looks back at Donavan with a scowl. 

 

It’s hard to read him underneath the scruffy hair and thick glasses, but there is definitely a calculation behind his eyes.

 

“What?” Bonnie says, flat and harsh.  

 

“It’s nothing,” Donavan holds his notebooks to his chest. “Ms. Rockwaller, please let me know if this experiment intrigues you.” He starts walking backwards before Bonnie can say anything. “As for the other subject, you should ask Angelus. I’m very late for class.” Bonnie watches him make a hasty retreat down the hallway. 

 

Then Bonnie throws a hand in the air and scoffs. Maybe she could get Ange to explain why there is approximately two hundred percent more freak going on in her life than she’s used to. 

 

---

 

Donavan makes her late to the lunchroom. 

 

By the time she’s gotten her tray full of chicken nuggets and grainy mashed potatoes and exited the line, the popular kids’ table is almost entirely occupied. Bonnie’s status as Queen of The School as Ange likes to kindly say means no one dares to sit in her spot. No one but Ange, apparently. She’s sitting in Bonnie’s chair, head tilted towards Tara as they discuss something. From the way their cheeks are scrunched up, they’re smiling.

 

Bonnie’s hand shakes, rattling around the plastic cutlery on her tray. 

 

Then Keon catches sight of her, and the traditional, many voiced “Bonnie!” greeting sounds over the din of cafeteria noise. Bonnie makes sure to school her features before the girls look over their shoulders at her. Tara gives her a sweet smile, Ange gives her a grin. It’s almost enough to calm her down except all she can think about is how heatedly Ange and Tara had kissed on Saturday. Not that it counts. It was just a game. 

 

Ange takes her backpack off of her usual seat and slides into it, making room. Better. Just this once, Bonnie is willing to act as a buffer. 

 

“Hi Bonnie,” Tara says. Her smile is typically bright. She even leans over to rest her chin on Bonnie’s shoulder. It sets Bonnie’s teeth on edge. “I heard you and Brick are official. Is that just a rumor or what?” 

 

“We’re together,” Bonnie says. Defensiveness makes her shoulders go tense. Tara must notice, because she stops leaning against her. Unacceptable. “I'm planning on going steady with him for a while.” On her other side, Ange pulls out her huge tupperware of black pepper chicken and stabs a piece hard enough to shake the table. That girl has been eating religiously. 

 

“He’s a sweet guy,” Ange shoves a piece of chicken in her mouth and chews on it like it owes her money. When she notices Bonnie watching, she makes sure her next bite is gentle.

 

“Seriously, good for you,” Ange says, smiling warmly. “He’s, like, any girl’s dream, right?” 

 

“Yeah,” Bonnie slides pride into her tone, even though she doesn’t feel it. Ange keeps wearing her warm smile. It makes Bonnie’s fingers twitch to claw it off her face. Instead, she leans over and steals a piece of Ange’s chicken. “I can’t wait to show him off.” 

 

It’s a shame he’s not the official quarterback yet. Brick is too good at football to be benched, but he wouldn’t be the star of next Friday’s game. Thinking of the opening game reminds her about the cheer routine she’s going to need to plan with Kim. It also makes her think of something else.

 

“Are you going to the game?” Bonnie asks Ange. Ange nods. Her warm smile is still frozen onto her face. 

 

“When it comes to cheerleading, I hear that opening night is almost as important as Regionals,” Ange says. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

 

Soft heat radiates around Bonnie’s chest. She looks down at the table with a little smile. 

 

“So, you’re like, coming to the football game to cheer on the cheerleaders?” Tara snickers. Ange nods with a grin. “Thanks, Angie. You sure know how to make us girls feel special.” 

 

“I aim to please,” Ange says, truthfully. It doesn’t stop her from puffing out her chest. Weirdo.

 

---

 

In the fifteen minute overlap between lunch periods, Brick shows up. He drops an arm over Bonnie’s shoulder. Out of the corner of her eye, she swears Ange stops moving. Then Brick’s hair obscures her vision as he drops a kiss onto her cheek.

 

“Hi Bonnie,” Brick says, grinning his goofy puppy grin. He looks at Ange and Tara with as much exuberance. “Hey girls! How’s it goin’?” 

 

“Uh, what does Kim say? Spankin’.” Tara says. Bonnie makes a mental note to make her run a double lap during warmups after school.

 

When he’s stopped blocking her view, she sees Ange getting onto her feet. “That is what she says,” Ange says with a laugh. Then she offers her seat to Brick, and it’s Bonnie’s turn to go still. Just for a moment. 

 

Before Bonnie can even ask her to stay, Brick drops down onto it. “Thanks, Ange. You’re like, a bro!” 

 

Ange laughs again, pats him on the shoulder, and doesn’t look at Bonnie as she circles the table. She comes to a stop besides Riley. The boy lights up like the sun when she taps him on the shoulder. When they start conversing, Bonnie tears her eyes away so she doesn’t see anymore of it. 

 

“Hi Brickie,” Bonnie adopts her sweetest tone. “It’s so nice to see you.” 

 

“I missed you,” Brick says, taking her hand. Bonnie lets him. She doesn’t see the way Tara is observing her, and neither does Brick. 

 

Chapter 51: Chapter 51

Bonnie makes true on her promise to make Tara run two laps before cheer practice. She watches with both hands on her hips, leaning on her back leg, smirking like a fox as Tara pouts the entire second rotation. Kim walks in half way through it, the last at practice. Typical. 

 

When Tara finishes, she runs right into Kim’s arms, gasping. Kim looks a little surprised, but even more pleased. “Save me, Kim,” Tara whines. “Bonnie’s being mean.”

 

“Well, what else is new?” Kim says, wrapping an arm around Tara in a hug. “Bonnie,” her voice drops into that reprimanding tone that is just so annoying. Bonnie can’t even control the eye roll she makes. “Why are you bullying Tara?”

 

“Because spankin’,” Bonnie uses air quotes for emphasis. “Is awful slang and she should feel bad for using it.” 

 

“Hey!” Kim gasps. Tara gasps. Bonnie sighs. “Spankin’ is not awful slang. Spankin’ is,” Kim smirks a little. “It’s spankin’.” Yup, she saw that one coming. 

 

“That’s what I said,” Tara whispers. Traitor. Kim cocks her hip to the side, smirking harder. 

 

“Okay, whatever.” Bonnie holds her palm between her and Kim. “You’re allowed to be wrong. It’s a free country. Can we focus on what’s important and get working on my routine?”

 

Kim stares at the offense with about five percent more annoyance. “You mean my routine?”

 

“No?” Bonnie looks Kim up and down. Now that she’s looking for it, there are about five percent more bags underneath Kim’s forest green eyes. Could the missions be catching up to her? “You didn’t keep your end of the deal, remember? I thought everything was possible for you weirdos, too.” Tara, sensing the coming gripe fest, commits an astute action and gets out from between them. “You didn’t even get me my cookie.“

 

Tara looks behind her shoulder at them with befuddlement. 

 

“Maybe I don’t want to give you a cookie,” Kim says grumpily. Then blinks like she’s just now realizing how absurd this conversation is becoming. Bonnie doesn’t let her smirk show. 

 

“Alright, K,” Bonnie starts making her way towards the rest of her girls. “Since you clearly have your panties in a twist, I’ll take the higher road and suggest a compromise. Fifty-fifty.” Kim’s bottom eyelid twitches. Bonnie smirks fully. It’s very rude to be so annoyed at someone offering an olive branch. On behalf of Ange, she’d overlook it once. She claps her hands to get everyone’s attention. “Now let's get ready, ladies. We’re wasting daylight here.”

 

---

 

“Ron? What are you doing out here?”

 

Sitting in the hallway outside the double gym doors is one Ron Stoppable, reading a comic book. He looks up at Ange, then looks down at his comic, then back up at Ange.

 

“Reading a comic book.”

Ange lets out a slightly exasperated sigh. She should have seen that coming. “I mean why aren’t you inside?” She tilts her head towards the door. Inside were eight of the prettiest girls in the entire school. A teenage boys’ biggest dream or something. 

 

“Kim says I can’t hang around practice until after opening night,” Ron pouts. “Something about me being a distraction? Which just doesn’t make any sense. Right Rufus?” From his baggy khaki side pocket, Rufus pokes his head out, crunching loudly on a cheeto. Ange blinks at him.

 

“Uh uh!” Rufus says between chews. Dust and crumbs spray everywhere. “No distraction.” When he dives back in, there’s the crumple of a chips bag. It sounds loud in the empty hallway. 

 

“But the last time I tried going in there when I wasn’t allowed, Bonnie almost took my eyes out.” Ron shudders. Ange smiles fondly. That does sound like her. “Never again.” 

 

“Well, alright,” Ange says. She maybe is a little smug as she pushes the gymnasium door open. “I’m heading in, myself. Have fun with your comic book.” 

 

The last thing she hears before the door shuts behind her is Ron grumbling about the injustice of boy versus girl privileges. Maybe she should get Kim to convince him to take a feminist course. 

 

Then she glances at the cheerleaders practicing their cheer routine and stops worrying about it. Now that she’s friends with Riley, she’d happened to hear a bit of the guy talk he had had with Keon at the lunch table. Something about being an butt man or a breast man (they did not use those terms). A silly comparison, because everything about girls should be treasured and probably worshiped or something. It’s a little hard to have coherent thoughts in front of very beautiful women.

 

Ange did, however, enjoy their legs very, very much.

 

Ange looks at the bleachers instead. Ogling women isn’t polite, probably. Maybe she should take the feminism class with Ron. She’s mid way through placing her bag on one of the seats when practice actually ends. The only warning she gets is a “hi Ange!” before Kim jumps on her. 

 

“WAH!” Ange takes two steps to regain her balance. Kim’s arms encircle her. Like a koala, she ends up clinging to Ange’s entire side. “Hi Kim,” Ange says, happy as a clam. Kim starts rubbing their cheeks against each other. Ange’s smile slowly morphs into horror. 

 

“...Ew, Kim, you’re all sweaty!” 

 

Kim gives her a toothy grin. “Not so nice being on the other side of it, huh?” Maybe if it was another girl, it wouldn’t be so bad (Ange can’t say that out loud, though). 

 

“You’re so gross! Get off!” Ange tugs at one of Kim’s arms, the other compensates with adjustments. When she tries to pull off the legs Kim had wrapped around her waist, Kim squeezes her torso so tight she wheezes. “Aughhhhee.” 

 

She turns around in a circle, looking for something to help and sees not just Bonnie, but the entire cheer squad watching them. Ange feels her face burst into flames.

 

“Uhm- hi girls.” She gives them a lame little wave. Kim starts wiping her sweaty forehead against her. In the background, Ange hears Crystal and Hope start giggling. “Did you have a fun practice?” Ange follows up, just as lamely. A few of them nod, at least. Life is about the small victories. 

 

“Kim, stop being gross,” Bonnie says, judgingly. It seems to have the opposite effect because Kim sticks her tongue out at Bonnie. 

 

“You know, Bonnie. Jealousy is not a good look,” Kim shoots back. A ridiculous thing to say. Who would be jealous of this? Ange can see Bonnie’s face flush with anger.

 

“So, like, how much can you lift?” Tara asks, walking up to them curiously. That’s a good question. Ange has been standing around with Kim on her quite casually.

 

“Good question,” Ange says. “At this point in time I am generating new muscle cells every day, for density, not for volume.”

 

Tara blinks at her. Bonnie blinks at her. Kim rolls her eyes.

 

Maybe they don't understand the intricacies that are the technicalities of human movement. “Most of them are the fast twitch variety, but there is also a percentage of slow twitch muscle fibers that are being formed for structure. Not to mention, the fibers are elongating, which mechanically means there’s a greater range of motion-” Kim squeezes her torso tighter, making her wheeze. “aahheeeee!” 

 

“A lot,” Kim answers for her. Tara starts snickering. 

 

“Are you sure we can’t get her to be at the bottom of the pyramid?” Hope says from the back. Bonnie whirls around at Hope and stomps her foot. Hope jumps, then hustles away. Most of the other girls have started to filter towards the locker rooms anyway. 

 

“I don’t think cheerleading is my thing,” Ange says, trying to pry Kim’s arms off of her. Somehow, even with extra strength, she isn’t able to escape her hold. That’s kind of humiliating, but Ange decides to focus on being proud of Kim’s technical skills instead. “But I could probably carry a decent amount of you girls.” Her gene editing experiment was entirely worth the grounding. 

 

“Really?” Tara says with great interest. Ange nods at her, a little confused. “I don’t believe you.”

 

Then Tara points at Bonnie. “Pick her up.” 

 

Huh? Ange thinks.

 

“Huh?” Ange says. Out of the corner of her eyes, she sees Bonnie’s jaw drop open. She also hears Kim go ‘ew’ which is kind of rude. Tara just has a shit eating grin on her face. 

 

“I-uh-I already did that o-once,” Ange murmurs. She can feel the tips of her ears going red. 

 

“Yeah, but you’re carrying Kim, right?” Tara points out. “Isn’t that a new variable-”

 

Kim hops right off of Ange, looking unamused. “I’m not gonna be part of this experiment. Have fun, girls.” She walks away, open palmed and hands in the air. Ange has never felt so betrayed in her life. 

 

“Oh,” Tara clucks. “I guess you’ll have to carry me too.” 

 

“Huh?” Ange squeaks.

 

“You don’t want to?” Tara asks, looking Ange right in the eyes. This time, her jaw drops. Tara knows full well what the answer is. “Or... do you not want to carry Bonnie?” The look in Tara’s bright blue eyes is kind hearted innocence. Ange now sees her for the two faced siren she is. 

 

“What?” Bonnie says. She actually sounds offended. “Ange, is that true? Why not?”

 

“N-no, it’s just- you -uh- h-have-” If she pointed out that Bonnie had a man, wouldn’t that be revealing too much? Bonnie’s perceptive like that. If she doesn’t say anything, then Ange would still be able to hide behind a veil of innocence. That would be disrespectful to both Bonnie and Brick, wouldn’t it? Is she taking too long to answer the question? 

 

A quick glance at Bonnie tells her that yes, she is taking too long to answer the question. In Bonnie’s turquoise eyes Ange can see that offense has shifted to anger… does Bonnie look hurt? 

 

I am a bad person. Ange realizes. A bad and selfish person. 

 

A snake. 

 

“I kind of do,” Ange hears herself say. She sees how Bonnie’s eyes widen when she walks towards her. Is she surprised at Ange’s answer, or the possessive look that Ange knows she has in her eyes. Before Ange comes to a conclusion, she kneels down and wraps an arm around the back of Bonnie’s thighs. Once she is certain her grip is reliable, she pushes up with her legs. 

 

“Wha-!” Bonnie gasps at the sudden weightlessness. Satisfyingly, lifting her is even easier than last time. Ange feels Bonnie’s arms wrap around her head and feels herself grin like a wolf - all teeth.

 

“See? Easy-” Ange turns to Tara just in time to see Tara running at her.

 

“Now do me!” Tara yells, flinging herself into the air. On autopilot, Ange braces her legs and dips down to catch her with a little ‘oof’. There probably was a god out there. A really nice god that loves her a lot. How else can she explain the fact that she has two beautiful girls in her arms. She’d have to find a way to scientifically prove their existence-

 

A tapping on her head brings her out of her thoughts.

 

“Angie?” Tara says. Ange can’t see her, but she can picture the amused confusion on her face anyway. “You got lost in your own world again. What’s goin’ on?”

 

“Oh,” Ange flushes. “I was considering how I was going to prove the existence of god.” 

 

Silence. 

 

“Ange, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Bonnie says.

 

Tara starts laughing. It’s a nice sound.

 

“Do you think studying science is an act of worship? I think, technically, it could be considered that,” Ange says, ignoring the question. It would take too long to answer. “Since I would be understanding more of the universe. Assuming a god does exist, of course.”

 

“I thought the entire point of religion was to have faith?” Tara says.

 

“I never said anything about religion.” 

 

“If you prove god exists, which, like, probably not, tell them to make a less shitty universe,” Bonnie says from Ange’s other side. “Because Middleton High School? Kinda sucks.” 

 

“Why are you even thinking about this?” Tara says. Ange can feel her rest an arm on top of her head. Ange thinks quickly.

 

“I was wondering how I managed to get such nice friends.” Nailed it. Bonnie snorts.

 

“But I’m mean,” she points out.

 

“Yeah, but that’s nice,” Ange says. More silence. They were probably thinking she was weird again. What had Tara called her? An odd duck. 

 

“Quack.”

 

It doesn’t matter how much Bonnie tries to hide it. Ange can feel her laughing against the side of her head. 

 

---

 

Bonnie’s hand slams into the locker right beside her head.

 

It doesn’t really startle Kim. She’s gotten accustomed to faster projectiles that make louder noises a long while ago. That doesn’t mean she doesn’t pull up her guard. After… Saturday, dealing with Bonnie sounds like an even harder grind than usual. 

 

She’ll have to wait a minute to dry her hair. Kim finishes wrapping herself in her towel and leans back against the cold metal lockers. Then she crosses her arms and waits.

 

“Hey, K,” Bonnie says, examining her nails. Pretending to. Kim can see her watching from the corner of her eyes. 

 

“Bonnie,” Kim states. Getting information out of Bonnie is a bit like herding cats. The cats have to decide to be herded, and Bonnie has to decide to share her thoughts. 

 

So, again, she waits. Surprising no one, she’s gifted with an insult. 

 

“You look tired,” Bonnie finally says. “Like, find a better concealer, alright?” 

 

“Thanks, Bonnie. I’m about as tired as your personality,” Kim says, drier than the Sahara. It makes Bonnie purse her lips, then sniff haughtily. Surprising everyone, Bonnie doesn’t bite back with a retort. 

 

“I need you on your A-game, Possible.” Bonnie lifts her chin. “Friday’s game is a priority. If you don’t show up at one hundred and fifty percent, I’m taking over.” She finally removes her hand. 

 

Kim glares at Bonnie while she makes her way to her locker. As Bonnie pulls out her towel and body wash, a thought hits her that makes Kim blink in surprise. Did Bonnie just tell her to get some rest? She’s about to give her an evaluating look when she realizes that means watching Bonnie undress. 

 

Ew. 

 

A second thought comes in with a right hook. Ange would probably like doing that. Double ew. 

 

Kim leaves the lockers before anything else pops into her head that might make her want to vom’. Ange is waiting for her on one of the bleachers, talking to Ron. They both look up and smile when they notice her. 

 

“KP! You, me, Bueno Nacho.” Ron says, pointing a finger at himself, then herself. Ange looks amused.

 

“I was going to offer you a ride home,” Ange says, wiggling. She’s probably thinking about lab time. “But if you’re going to be busy, I’ll go home by myself.” 

 

Kim thinks about it. Bonnie had, probably, told her to get some rest, and she does feel tired. And awful. Absolutely awful. Then she thinks about Bonnie, and Bonnie undressing, and her face screws up. “Bueno Nacho,” Kim decides. Ron does a fist pump.

 

“Boo-yah!”

 

Ange gets up, pulling her backpack over her shoulder. “Okie dokie. I’ll see you later.” As she leans over to give Kim a kiss on the cheek, Kim speaks.

 

“Hey, Angie?” 

 

“Hmm?”

 

“Can you be a little less of a pervert from now on?”

 

“Huh?” Ange doesn’t make it to her cheek. Kim’s already turning away. “What-?”

 

“C’mon, Ron,” Kim grabs him by the arm and starts dragging him away. “I’m kind of hungry.” 

 

Ron, always happy at the promise of food, gives Ange a little wave. “See you later!” He turns to Kim. The last thing he says before the gymnasium doors close behind them is, “Why is she a pervert?” 

 

---

 

Ange looks around the gymnasium, clutching the strap of her backpack with both hands. It’s very big, and very empty. There are no answers to be found within the walls, but she has to ask the question anyway. The scientific side of her demands it. 

 

“What…What did I do?!” The one response she gets is the muffled sound of a door slamming far in the distance.

 

Ange purses her lips.

 

She was just trying to be nice.

Notes:

I love putting Angie in situations

Chapter 52: Chapter 52

Keep the hips and the shoulders aligned, straighten the foot, bend the knee, lift the leg, freeze. Repeat. 

 

Five girls go through the same motion. In tandem, they make beautiful, elegant movement. Their instructor, Clara, walks down the line with gorgeous efficiency. Her dark brown eyes miss nothing. Occasionally, her low voice mutters out a correction. 

 

Beads of sweat run down Bonnie’s long neck. She keeps her gaze trained at something far in the distance. Holding developpe isn’t about how high the leg rises. It’s not even about the strength to hold still - though that is important. Bonnie can see at least one other of her classmates shaking in place. It’s about pain, and how to endure it.

 

Keep the joint of the foot and the knee taught. Keep the ribs in, but open the chest. Convey any emotion but stress. 

 

Relevé en pointe. Damage the body for beauty. At the highest of levels, ballet is pain, endurance, mastery of the body and mind. 

 

Bonnie lifts her arm, a lovely contour, and seamlessly shifts into attitude - the Russian variant. She holds it for one ethereal second, then clears her mind and begins the sequence. The burn in her legs is easy to ignore. It’s euphoric, even, compared to what goes on outside of these walls. Here, it’s just her, her instructor, and how quickly she can hunt down perfection.

 

Four girls chase after her, one second behind. Clara is barely paying attention to them now.

 

Since Kim introduced her to Tai Chi, the sequences come more readily to her. She flows like water across the hardwood floor, barely making a sound. Maybe she should get a collar with a bell. It could help her operate each limb with that much more control. 

 

Her sequence doesn’t get faster, but builds in intensity. Bonnie performs a Tour en l’air. As she rotates, she’s already preparing her feet to land in precise location. Droplets of sweat dapple the ground around her. She keeps going and going and going until Clara finally says-

 

“Stop.”

 

One girl stops moving. Four girls stop after her. 

 

Clara walks in front of Bonnie first, letting her pant until she’s started to catch her breath. 

 

“It was acceptable,” Clara says. Bonnie lowers her head. Not a compliment. How many hours had she put into practicing this specific sequence? Days at this point. It should have been weeks. She can’t be acceptable. She just can’t. She needs to be…

 

Clara walks to the next girl, regarding her. “Passable,” she says. The others get even worse evaluations. Bonnie doesn’t hear them.

 

Exercise plans are already forming in her mind. Tonight, she’ll record herself doing this sequence. She can pick away at all her flaws. Correct them, smooth them into nothing, as if they never existed. Then she could pretend they never had in the first place. 

 

She needs to be perfect.

 

---

 

“Good morning Bonnie,” Ange calls out. Her voice is like sunshine. 

 

The double doors to the gymnasium close with a thud behind her. Bonnie takes a moment to appreciate the aesthetic of her newest friend. A plain black mini skirt, a sweater that had a button up peaking out from underneath it. Kneesocks that matched the sweater, and heels that matched the skirt. This Wednesday, Bonnie made Ange go for the sexy schoolgirl look. She is totally bragging when Bonnie says she nailed it. 

 

“Angie,” Bonnie says, giving her a pleased smile. “Come on over.” She’s already on the bleachers today. Her leg had been giving her pain after ballet this morning, so Bonnie was trying to massage it out. It would be a big problem if this persisted during her cheerleading practice.

 

Ange sits beside her, watching curiously. “Are you alright?” she says after a moment. Bonnie doesn’t tense up like she normally might. It’s just the two of them here.

 

“My knee hurts. It’s whatever.”

 

“Oh, let me see,” Ange says, placing her bag behind her seat. Bonnie raises an eyebrow.

 

“You want to see my knee?”

 

“...Well, your leg would be best,” Ange’s voice gets quieter and quieter towards the end. Bonnie raises her other eyebrow as well. “My mom’s a doctor, Bonnie. She might have a specialty in brain surgery but she still knows first aid.” That does make sense. “Plus, Kim gets injured a lot, so I made it a point to learn how to take care of her. Though her rate of healing is abnormally fast. It’s actually an incredible anomaly, but she says I’m not allowed to study any of her genetic samples-”

 

“Ange, can we not talk about your sister,” Bonnie says dryly. Then she lifts up her left leg - the one she favors for developpe - and places it in Ange’s lap.

 

Bonnie gets to watch as Ange blinks at it stupidly. It’s kind of funny. 

 

“This century, please,” Bonnie ends up saying. It knocks Ange out of her stupor. The tips of her ears go adorably red.  

 

“Kn-” Ange clears her throat, then talks at a normal tone. That ought to be studied a bit more. “Knee pain is often a symptom of a different problem,” Ange explains. “There are just so many ligaments and muscles attached to it that when damage or strain occurs to them, it’s first felt in the knee.” 

 

“Wow, Angie. That’s actually useful to know,” Bonnie says. She grins when Ange shoots her an offended look.

 

“All of my knowledge is useful,” Ange pauses. “Most of my knowledge is useful. It’s always important to be accurate.” Bonnie snickers. Curiously, Ange starts going red again. Bonnie starts paying attention.

 

“Uhm,” Ange says. “May I..” She waves her hands over Bonnie’s calf. This would be an opportunity to study.

 

“Yes?” Bonnie prompts slowly. 

 

Underneath her leg, Ange starts shifting uncomfortably. “Do I have permission... to touch your leg?” By now, it’s not just her cheeks that have gone red, but everything above the collar of her button up. Bonnie would put money on it going lower too. 

 

“Duh.” Bonnie feels Ange relax. Turquoise eyes narrow thoughtfully. “Why are you so hung up about it?” Ange goes tense again.

 

Very interesting.

 

Instead of answering, Ange grips Bonnie’s calf in both hands and starts working at the muscle underneath her skin. The pressure from her fingers is not too harsh, but not too light. Her hands are pleasantly warm. Her throat bobs a few times, nervous. Bonnie is just about to needle a bit more when Ange finally speaks.

 

“I think it’s another weird thing?” Ange mumbles. “Like how I think your eyes are pretty.” 

 

“...” Bonnie rests her chin in her hand, using her palm to cover one of her cheeks. They feel warm too. “You think I have pretty legs?” Thankfully, she’s able to hide the sudden shyness she feels with an amused lilt. Ange nods, not looking at her. 

 

The pain in her knee starts to fade. 

 

“Don’t overthink it, Angie. It’s a given that my legs are pretty.” Not only do girls in general have pretty legs, but looking good is kind of a must for her. If she keeps thinking that, she’ll be able to ignore the way her heartbeat is jumping around her chest. “Thanks anyway, though.” 

 

Warmth and comfort are a promise in the smile Ange gives her. “Feel better?” 

 

Bonnie nods, reluctantly pulling her leg back. As nice as it would be to spend all morning doing this, Ange still needs to get some makeup on. It’s important to prioritize.

 

“...Hey Angie?” 

 

“Yeah?” 

 

It feels like pulling teeth, but… Ange is safe, isn’t she? Bonnie leans against Ange’s side and lets herself relax for just a moment. She can feel Ange hesitate before a comforting arm wraps around her. 

 

Ange doesn’t need makeup anyway.

 

---

 

Before class, half way to Ange’s locker, Bonnie realizes that Ange didn’t try to catch her scent. Not once.

 

When they find Brick waiting at her locker, Bonnie walks up to him and hugs him extra tight. His arms are too big. 

 

She’ll get used to it.

 

---

 

Ange's Kimmunicator goes off right after her English Literature class. Like, right after. She hasn't even left her seat. 

 

Donavan looks at her.

 

From the front of the class, Bonnie does too. 

 

Ange is too busy turning on her device to notice. “Hi Wade,” Ange says, placing the Kimmunicator on the table and shoving all of her stuff into her backpack. “What's the ‘sitch?” (from the front, Bonnie actually groans. Adorable). 

 

Wade looks up from his computer just enough to give her a smile. Still subdued. He's still wary about her. 

 

“Ange, I was able to track down Dr. Drakken's lair in New Mexico,” Wade says, going back to his work. “His radio death ray isn't finished, but I figure, why not go after him before he can even strike?” 

 

“I like your style,” Ange hikes her backpack over her shoulder and makes way to her locker. Not before waving goodbye to Donavan and giving Bonnie a smile, of course. Priorities. “Where’s my ride?”

 

“Well… how do you feel about riding in the fastest commercial airliner in the world? They owe Kim for landing the thing in one piece with no gear and a broken engine.” 

 

God, her sister is so cool. 

 

“Sounds like fun. See you on the other side.”

 

---

 

Bonnie watches Ange disappear through the doorway, chest tight.

 

Did that nerd just say something about a radio death ray? 

 

She looks back at Donavan. He's already watching her. Bonnie purses her lips, then rolls her eyes. Then she stomps over to him.

 

“Alright, Donavan.” Bonnie places her hand on her hip, cocking it to her side. “Let's do this stupid plan.” For some reason, he doesn't look surprised that she said yes. More and more, it felt like people were reading her. She'd have to fix that. “But we're waiting until after opening night, alright?” 

 

“Thank you, Ms. Rockwaller. I look forward to working with you.”

 

“I don't.” 

 

“Oh, good.” Donavan adjusts his glasses. “I don't either. I was just being polite.” 

 

Asshole. 

 

---

 

Ange is analyzing her.

 

Well, Kim can’t really blame her. Even Ron (and Rufus) look worried about her. She’s never been this quiet before a mission. She can’t bring herself to care, either. This is a Drakken mission, and Drakken means Shego, and Shego means facing that night in New York City. It takes more than she’d like not to flinch away from it. 

 

Flinching is unacceptable. 

 

A hand settles onto her shoulder. Kim looks up into ocean blue eyes.

 

I know you’ve got this, those eyes tell her. It’s not something as patronizing as encouragement. Not for this. It's steady, collected expectation from a scientist that knows every single one of Kim’s limits. A conviction so strong Kim is already clawing upwards to meet it. 

 

Kim feels herself smile. Push and pull, Ange had always been good at that. 

 

Her shoulders set into a hard line. Finally, finally dangerous energy washes over her. Steel enters her eyes. Familiar focus and drive she gets during a mission because she knows failure isn’t an option. Every single person in this world needs her protection and she will never, ever let them down. 

 

She won’t see me coming, Kim says back. 

 

Violent potential makes her fingertips twitch. Underneath her, a foot starts tapping against the metal of the cargo hold. Soon, they’ll be dropping into freefall towards her greatest rival. 

 

Ange bares her teeth. Besides them, Ron scoots backwards a little bit, looking between the two sisters. Kim can’t really blame him. Her face is an illustration of brutality.

 

“Uh, KP?” Ron says, darting his eyes back and forth. “Is everything alright? You seem kind of… scary.”

 

“I’m just peachy, Ron. Thanks for asking.” He doesn’t look convinced. Maybe she’d tell him about it later. An emphasis on maybe. Kim doesn’t like keeping secrets from him, but… This one is buried too close into her chest. She can feel it stinging her heart. 

 

“Your ETA is one minute, guys,” Wade’s voice crackles out of the Kimmunicator. “Target will be directly below.” The four of them arrange themselves for the fall. Kim, Ron, Ange, into a crouch. Rufus gives them a salute before he buries himself into Ron’s cargo pants. Beneath them is forty two thousand feet of open air, Drakken, and Shego.

 

Her hands curl into fists. For the first time since Saturday, Kim looks forward to meeting her.

Notes:

This one kinda turned into a character study lol

Chapter 53: Chapter 53

Shego is kind of a foodie.

 

Who isn’t, really? Food isn’t just fuel, it’s an experience. Never has she met someone who would balk at a good meal, whether it be something as simple as steak and potatoes or as complex as that arctic char dish she had at the Azure Veil in Miami. Something about fennel, horseradish and absinthe cream. She doesn’t really care about the ingredients - though she does appreciate the effort to prepare them. As long as it tastes good, she’ll eat it. 

 

Nothing, in her opinion, is better than perfectly ripe fruit. 

 

Simple to find (if you know where to look) and simple to eat. Unpretentious. Delicious. Shego takes a bite out of a juicy, ripe pear and hums in delight. 

 

Dr. Drakken is ranting about radio waves or something. She stopped paying attention ten or so minutes ago. It would be funny that he could keep monologuing for so long, except she has to live in it. This bag of peaches and pears kind of makes it worth it this time. New Mexico in September is kind of nice.

 

“Shego.”

 

The best fruit, in her opinion, is strawberry. A perfect fruit, bite sized, flavorful, juicy. It’s a shame she can’t find any nearby. Their lair is besides orchards, not berry patches. She’s not about to look a gift horse in the mouth, though. This pear is divine-

 

“Shego! Are you paying attention to me?”

 

Shego swallows her bite and sighs. “I’m trying not to,” she says tiredly. 

 

Dr. Drakken stalks over and lets out a few offended sputters, waving his black gloved hands in circles around him. “Why not?! This is interesting stuff!” He points a finger at his half finished death ray. “This will make me the ruler of the world, Shego! And it’s brilliant, like me!”

 

Then he points a finger at her. “You could show a little appreciation for all this hard work I’m putting in. I’m even giving you Iceland when I win.” He pauses. “Or was it Greenland?” 

 

“Can’t you give me something good like Hawai’i?” 

 

“Of course not! That’s a prime military position,” Dr. Drakken says, surprising everyone - henchmen included. Shego didn’t realize Drakken had thought that far ahead. She’d be a little impressed if she didn’t feel so… 

 

Why did Kimmie have to bring all that up? 

 

Breaking hearts isn’t something she necessarily shrinks from. Shego knows she’s attractive, flirty, and very low on commitment. She’d lost count of how many people cried out for her to stay after just a few dates. It isn’t her fault that they all get so boring so quickly. No one keeps up with her. No one but-

 

Let’s not think about that.

 

“...And then I would subjugate the Greeks. I feel like they would have some good fight in them- Shego! Are you still paying attention?!”

 

“Sorry, I don’t really care about conquering a society that belongs in a museum,” Shego says, rubbing her temples. Maybe she should head to the spa. 

 

Drakken lets out an offended gasp, clutching his chest. “Shego! The Greeks have a wonderful modern society. I should know! I have family over there.”

 

“You want to conquer your family too?”

 

“Those ingrates never believed in me! But look at me now, Shego! Look at me!” Drakken pulls himself up to his full height, puffing out his chest and letting out a maniacal laugh. In the background, one the henchmen leans over and presses a button on a cobbled together tesla coil and lightning fills the room. A stray bolt reaches out and zaps Dr. Drakken in the right buttcheek. He immediately hunches over, cringing. 

 

“Owie!”

 

Shego looks at him as he starts hopping around the lair, whimpering. Then she grabs her half eaten pear and smells strawberries. Not real strawberries. The artificial kind, with just a hint of Kiwi, from Club Banana’s tropical shampoo and conditioner line. The one that a certain teen hero has been using for as long as Shego could remember.

 

She’s ahead of schedule. Dr. D’s death ray hasn’t been finished yet. 

 

While henchmen go over to console her boss, Shego casually gets out from her seat and walks into a shadow. Silently, she climbs up a column of scaffolding, then takes a seat near the top. Lounging on nothing but a pipe, she observes the entire lair floor. 

 

It’s fascinating watching the trio of teenagers approach the room. In the farthest, most tucked away corner, Ron hunches down. He doesn’t even know the definition of stealthy. Any other time he would have been spotted immediately. But there’s a new player in the game. 

 

A metal pane falls out from the ceiling with a loud clatter. Ange drops out of it, landing in a roll that she turns into a crouch. She takes a moment to scan the entire room. Smart. Then Ange pops onto her feet and gives a goofy grin.

 

“Hi Dr. Drakken!” Ange says, waving her hands excitedly. It’s two-faced. Shego could almost respect it.

 

Shego ignores Drakken’s response. The most important player is still missing. 

 

No matter how attentively she scans, Shego can’t find Kim on the lair floor. She does another cursory survey, before turning her attention upwards. One of her many martial arts instructors told her once that humans rarely look up. Then she’d spent the next month ambushing Shego from above and beating her until the habit stuck.

 

It was effective training. 

 

She finally finds who she’s looking for when she scans the ceiling. An electric blue, arching laser slices a hole through the bottom of a vent. Carefully, silently, it gets moved to the side. Kim Possible lowers herself in a controlled and slow movement until her feet touch one of the metal beams that line the ceiling. She surveys the floor, but must not have gotten the same training as Shego, because she doesn’t look any higher.

 

It would be the perfect time to attack.

 

Shego pushes herself onto her feet and hops onto the beam without noise. Long strides eat up the distance between her and Kim. The poor girl still hasn’t realized she’s here. 

 

Killing her would be easy. Shego has the options. A blast of plasma to the spine. Running a clawed finger through Kim’s pretty neck. It would spew a canvas of red onto the floor beneath them. With her strength, Shego could cave her head in with a well placed kick. It would be easy. 

 

Instead, she flips into the air and lands herself in the corner of Kim’s vision. She sees the girl freeze, then turn her head to regard Shego. Shego expects the hot fury in Kim’s eyes. She doesn’t expect how immediately Kim bursts into action. 

 

Kim plants her hands onto the metal and swings her hips upwards. Before Shego can even try to block it, a heavy kick lands directly into her stomach. She lets out a surprised grunt and skids backwards ten or eleven feet. Then lengthens an arm and digs her claws into the heavy beam so she doesn’t fly completely off their vantage point. 

 

Shego kicks herself back onto her feet, just in time to use her forearm to block Kim’s elbow. It even stings a little. Shego counters with a high kick that Kim drops underneath. Then Kim springs up and forwards, jabbing her fist into the same spot of Shego’s stomach. Pain blooms outwards. Shego grins through it. 

 

“Damn, Kimmie,” Shego says. She lifts her knee to block a sweeping kick, then snaps her foot out to catch the girl in the shoulder. Kim gasps, stumbling to the side until she’s free falling. “I’m almost impressed,” Shego calls out after her.

 

When she walks over to the edge, there’s no one dropping towards the ground. 

 

Oh shit.

 

Kim finishes her swinging arc underneath the beam. She sweeps herself upwards on the opposite end, then back to the side to land a heavy foot between Shego’s shoulder blades. Everything but her stomach hurtles downwards, face first. The grin Shego has is more real this time.  

 

Her hand reaches out in front of her. Brilliant, lightning green plasma flares out from her palm, temporarily drowning out every other lightsource in the lair. She has to tense every single one of her muscles so the sudden thrust doesn’t yank her off course. No longer falling at break neck speeds, Shego contorts her body to land feet first on the ground. 

 

A rapidly growing shadow is her warning to jump forward in time to dodge out of Kim’s extended leg. Kim lands in a four point crouch just as Shego whirls around to face her. 

 

“C’mon, Princess,” Shego drawls, cracking her knuckles. It makes Kim twitch. Enchanting, flaming anger burns behind Kim’s forest green eyes. She uncoils from the ground, then shifts into Mantis position. Good. “You’re not even going to say hi?” Shego clicks her tongue a few times. “I’m hurt.”

 

“I’m going to hurt you a lot more than that,” Kim snaps. Shego regards the girl with lidded eyes. Behind all that anger is a bruised ego. Behind the ego is heartbreak. Shego tries not to feel too bad about it, and starts taking this fight a little more seriously. With deliberate movement, Shego adopts the stance of Fujian’s White Crane. Kim’s eyes track every motion. 

 

“Alright, Kimmie,” Shego murmurs. She knows Kim can hear her, even over Dr. D’s ranting and the hum of the air vents. Nothing else matters but the two of them, right here and now. “Let’s dance.” 

 

Two of the most dangerous people in the world push off the ground at the exact same time. The distance between them closes into nothing and they continue their violent conversation. 

 

---

 

Angelus sits in the guts of the half finished radio death ray with a pair of welding goggles firmly over her eyes. Noise selective earplugs protect her hearing and a tool belt is strapped around her waist. She’s welding a Spectral Phase Rotator into place, using one of her legs to keep it still. The thing is heavy, even for her. From the ground, also wearing welding goggles, Dr. Drakken carefully observes. 

 

“As you can see,” he says after she’s finished with the last connection. She tugs, then pushes at it to make sure the thing won’t be moving. “I’ve assembled all the small components first.” Ange nods. She does that too. “What you might not know is that I first make a scale model of everything I need. It lets me choose the best arrangement.” That, she doesn’t do. 

 

Ange hooks the torch into a belt loop and raises her goggles onto her forehead. “Is it really worth the time?” Wouldn’t it be better to figure that out with the components themselves?

 

“Oh yes,” Drakken says, nodding. “I don’t have to worry about breaking anything, and it only takes about a day to do.” Well, Ange could always appreciate some good preplanning. 

 

“How long does it take you to finish a project?” Ange asks, pulling herself up out of the chassis by her arms. She’d taken her jacket off, leaving her in her sleeveless turtleneck crop top. A good call. Grease and lubricant cover her everywhere.

 

“That depends on the project, my dear!” Drakken holds a hand up to help her get back onto the ground. Ange takes it with a polite ‘thank you.’ She watches him sweep his hand across a desk overflowing with notes. “A death ray this big can take up to a week and a half. Something smaller, like a ray gun, only a day or two.” That’s faster than Ange by nine percent. She needs to be better.

 

Ange reaches over and starts looking at some schematics he has. His handwriting is as erratic as her own. The models, though... every drawing is drafted with careful, beautiful precision. It almost brings a tear to her eye. Behind her, Drakken regards her. The smile on his face wavers for a moment, then he brings a fist up to cover it and coughs. 

 

“You know, Ange,” Dr. Drakken says, rolling back and forth on his feet. Ange puts down the schematic for some kind of impulse controlling gun and smiles at him. “I was thinking… I haven’t met a mind as great as yours in a long while. Besides my own, of course.”

“Of course,” Ange giggles. It brings Drakken’s grin back. He places both hands behind his back and puffs out his chest. 

 

“I would like to give you the great honor of being my intern.” 

 

“Huh?” 

 

“My intern!” Dr. Drakken says. When Ange blinks at him, he explains further. “I think the work you do has great potential! I would love to guide you through the complex discipline of Mad Science.” Drakken even chuckles evilly at the end. Ange continues to regard him, then places a hand on her chin to think about it. 

 

“Would you still try and take over the world?” 

 

“It’s my life’s passion.” Well, that isn’t necessarily a deal killer.

 

“What are your hours like?”

 

“I’m flexible, but preferably every evening from six to nine. Your timezone.” Ange gives him points for thoughtfulness. 

 

“Would you still consider Kim your enemy?” 

 

Dr. Drakken shakes his head ruefully. “Ange, she’s my arch rival. That isn’t going to change just because you’re under my tutelage.” 

 

“That’s a good point,” Ange says. Drakken nods along. “I decline.”

 

“WHAT?” Drakken actually jumps into the air with surprise. “Ange! That makes no sense. I’m the greatest mind in the world. Why would you ever say no?” 

 

“Dr. Drakken, you try to kill my sister every time you meet her.”

 

“Not every time. And, it’s usually Shego who does most of the work,” Drakken says. Ange raises an unconvinced eyebrow. “Besides, Kim’s been just fine. She can take care of herself.”

 

As if to prove his point, Shego goes flying across the room behind him.

 

Ange watches the curve of her trajectory with wide eyes. Dr. Drakken turns around in time to see Shego come to a skidding halt and grins.

 

“See?” He points at Shego with a smile. She’s slowly getting back to her feet. “You have nothing to worry about! Kim’s quite skilled at defeating Shego.” Ange watches Shego turn to look at them.

 

“What the fuck did you just say, Dr. D-”

 

“Language!” A voice says from the other side of the room. A grapple hook attaches to the wall behind Shego. Shego has just enough time to process it before Kim’s knuckles impact her jaw with a loud crack. Drakken and Ange both wince.

 

“...Okay, that’s fair,” Ange says, finally convinced. “Would I get any input on what’s being built?” 

 

“Every third project!” Drakken says, encouraging her with a nod. 

 

“Hmm…” It’s a very generous offer. Dr. Drakken’s mind is a priceless well of knowledge. The more she knows about how he operates, the more she can prepare too. In a lot of ways, it would be foolish not to consider it. “Will I be paid?”

 

“I’m evil, Ange. Not a cheapskate. I’ll start you out at an even twenty an hour.” 

 

At this point, she’d be stupid not to say yes. Ange grins, Drakken grins. She reaches her right hand out to shake on it. “Alright, Dr. Drakken. You’ve got yourself a deal! I’ll be your intern!” 

 

Behind Drakken, two of the most dangerous people in the world stop pummeling each other into the ground.

 

Temporarily, despite the complexity of hurt and heartbreak, Kim is able to have a single, exasperated moment of solidarity with Shego.

 

Kim stops straddling Shego’s waist to get back onto her feet. Before the handshake can be completed, Kim starts stomping over. “No you won’t!” She yells so loudly that Drakken and Ange jump. “Ange??!” Wordlessly, Ange steps behind Drakken. Drakken looks at her, then looks at the expression on Kim’s face and circles around to hide behind Ange. “An intern? An intern?! You want to be an intern to my worst enemy?”

 

“Uh-uhm,” Ange says smartly. If she said that Kim could handle herself against Shego it probably wouldn’t be taken well. Before she can try to hide behind Drakken again, Kim reaches over and grabs Ange by the collar of her shirt. Kim’s face is suddenly very close to hers, and forest green eyes are suddenly piercing into Ange’s very soul.

 

“Why?” Kim growls.

 

“I- uh… I love to learn?” Ange replies, grinning nervously. Her neck is twisted a little awkwardly considering the growing height difference between her and Kim. 

 

How quickly can someone go through the five stages of grief? Ange had concluded that Shego held the record the first time Dr. Drakken let her press a button. Today, Kim breaks it. Denial, anger, bargaining, depression, then zen like acceptance all flicker across her adorable face (Kim is the cutest). 

 

Kim hangs her head and lets out the longest, most resigned sigh that Ange has ever heard. 

 

“You’re not allowed to be his intern, Ange.”

 

“W-well.. It’s kind of a good idea, don’t you think?” Ange kicks the toe of her shoe into the ground. “I get paid twenty an hour and everything.”

 

“He’s evil!” Kim bursts out, waving her hands back and forth. 

 

“But he’s really smart!” Ange says, defending Drakken. If she bothered to look, she’d see Drakken wiggle a little in happiness. 

 

“Ange!” Kim grabs her by the shoulders and starts shaking her back and forth, vigorously. “Being evil is bad!” 

 

“Doy,” Shego says from the background, rubbing a bruise on her cheek. Kim whirls around to snarl at her.

 

“Not now, Shego!” Kim says it with such vehemence Shego takes a step back and holds her hands into the air. It makes Kim snort like a bull - Ange swears she sees steam - before turning her glare back at Ange. Ange realizes why Shego gave up so quickly. The anger behind Kim’s eyes burns. Ange follows Shego’s example and holds her hands into the air. “So…?” 

 

“...Sorry, Dr. Drakken. I can’t be your intern.” Drakken looks devastated. It’s not pitiful enough to get Ange to change her mind. “But, uhm, good luck-”

 

“Ange, he’s trying to take over the world.”

 

“Oh, right,” Ange turns to look at Drakken. “Bad luck.” Drakken looks even more devastated.

 

“Guys? …Err… Ladies and guy?” Ron’s voice sounds in the large lair room. Ange had forgotten about him. Everybody looks over to see Ron besides a bunch of henchmen playing cards. It looks like he just lost a round of poker. Ange can see that they’ve been using paperclips as chips. “So, like… Can I press the button now?”

 

A lot of the henchmen start inching towards the exit. Shego starts rubbing her temples. Dr. Drakken lets out an offended “nggggnng!” Ange bites her lip. Kim just looks tired. 

 

“Yes, Ron. You can press the button,” Kim says. “And using guys is just fine by me.” She looks around at the others, who all nod. “In the future, use guys.”

 

“Cool,” Ron gives them a silly grin. Then he leans over and presses the button.

 

Approximately a minute later, after everyone has been evacuated, Dr. Drakken’s New Mexico lair and half finished Radio Death Ray explode into a million pieces. Ange watches it from the open door helicopter with a satisfied hum. Nothing tops a good explosion. Except maybe this bag of perfectly ripe peaches and pears she found. 

 

She takes out a pear and gives it a scrumptious bite. She might not exactly be a foodie, but she could appreciate some delicious, in-season fruit.

Chapter 54: Interlude - the various drawings of bongelus

Notes:

this isn't a proper chapter. I just wanted to share the drawings of my favorite girls. some scenes have happened. some are just silly doodles

i'm pretty rusty. my carpal tunnel is slowly going away and i dont wanna push it by drawing too much

     

 

Chapter 55: Chapter 54

Notes:

Woof, almost didn't get this chapter finished. I was super eepy today.

The stadium is so loud the din of it spills out into more than just the parking lot. 

 

A giant grin spreads across Ange’s face and stays there when she first hears it a block away. She pedals her bike faster, gliding past the line of cars looking and waiting for an open parking spot. Suckers. After locking up her bike, Ange pulls her phone out. Mom, Dad, Mama, Kim, Donavan, Bonnie, Tara, Riley. Her contact list is growing. 

 

She scrolls to Riley’s name and sends him a text that she’s arrived. Three minutes later, her phone vibrates.

 

Look behind you

 

When she glances over her shoulder, Ange sees Riley leaning against the wall behind her. Normally it wouldn’t be so easy to sneak up on her. Ange makes a mental note to ask her Shifu how to keep awareness in such noisy areas.

 

“Riley!” Ange skips over to him, and once again thinks it’s a shame she doesn’t lean towards men. Tall, brunette, handsome brown eyes and a charming smile that grows wider as she approaches, Riley is a very handsome fellow. For the game, he’d opted to go shirtless. Half of his torso is painted Maddog purple, along with the opposite side of his face. 

 

“Are you ready to watch the dogs maul Lowerton?” Riley groans good naturedly at the pun, so Ange makes another. “I hear Lucas is planning to take his boys off the leash-”

 

“Stop, stop!” Riley laughs, pushing off the wall. “Please, I can’t take any more.” Just this once, Ange will show him some mercy. Together, they start walking into the stadium. The boys on the lacrosse team were kind enough to save Riley, and her, a spot at the front of the bleachers. She makes sure to give them her kindest smile before she points at a metal can full of purple paint. 

 

“Can I have some, please and thank you?” Zachary, the captain of the lacrosse team slides it over.

 

Ever since Bonnie made Ange her personal project, Ange had learned the value of many previously dismissed insights. The social influence given to someone who looks beautiful and acts confident is probably her favorite part. To always carry a compact is one of the more practical lessons. She pulls hers out of her skinny jeans and hands it to Riley.

 

“Hold this for me,” Ange says, snapping it open. 

 

Riley rolls his eyes. “Lemme do it,” he says, handing her mirror back to her. Ange eyes him suspiciously.

 

“If you draw a penis and testicles on my face, I’ll kick you in yours.”

 

Riley’s mouth drops open, then he shifts around to give her less access to his crotch. Smart boy. Zachary, who is sitting on Ange’s other side, bursts into laughter.

 

“A heart?” Riley suggests, voice cracking. “How about a heart. Girls like hearts, right?”

 

“Acceptable,” Ange says, grinning toothily.

 

Half way through the painting, the crowd goes from a steady and boisterous buzz to a swelling roar. Ange lets Riley finish before she looks over at the field. She wiggles happily at what she sees. 

 

The cheerleaders are finally here. 

 

From the players’ tunnel, the last two cheerleaders of the squad sashay out onto the grass. Kim and Bonnie definitely do not get along off the field. On it, when the cards are on the table, no one would be able to guess. They walk in tandem, mirroring each other’s movements while their teammates circle around them. Yellow pom-poms sway in the air. Liz, Crystal, Marcella, and Jessica bounce over to the Maddog side of the bleachers and start up a chant that brings rhythm to the chaotic noise. 

 

On the other side of the field, the Lowerton Locomotives’ cheerleaders start riling up the fans that bothered to make the trek all the way to Middleton. Ange isn’t really paying attention, even if they are also very pretty girls.

 

When Kim catches sight of her in the crowd, she tucks one of her pom-poms underneath her arm and blows Ange a kiss. Ange clutches her chest and pretends to fall backwards. Having the cutest sister in the world has many perks. 

 

Being friends with cheerleaders in general does, apparently. 

 

Since Ange is so close to the field, Tara spares a moment to prance over to the railing in front of her and strike a pose. Tara bursts into adorable giggles when Ange leans over the guardrail, sticks her tongue out at her and winks. 

 

“You’re going to the after party at Lucas’, right?” Tara says. Ange can just barely make out her words over the din of the crowd. 

 

“Duh!” 

 

Tara squints her eyes affectionately. Then, Tara stands on her tip toes so she can whisper something against Ange’s ear. “Good girl.”

 

Ange feels her jaw go slack. She sits backwards on the bleachers with a heavy thump. Ange can feel the tips of her ears go red. The look on her face makes Tara smirk. Then she skips back to the squad to prepare for the football team to enter the field. 

 

Riley gives Ange a curious look. When she doesn’t say anything, he eventually pokes her shoulder. “You good?” Ange nods mutely, then reaches over and clutches his arm.

 

“Hey Riley,” Ange says after she’s found her voice. Riley is nice enough to patiently wait for Ange to continue. “Girls are scary.”

 

It makes Riley look at her, then back onto the field at Tara, then back to Ange. He places a giant hand over hers. “... That’s the most relatable thing I’ve ever heard anyone say in my life.” 

 

---

 

Max Falcon is probably the fastest boy Bonnie has ever seen in her life. 

 

With three minutes on the clock and a football tucked underneath his left arm, Max dodges underneath, weaves beside, and hops over the Lowerton Locomotives team in quick, explosive strides. It’s, like, actually a little beautiful to watch. He’s going to go places. 

 

The Locomotives are putting up a surprisingly good fight. Every time the Maddogs push their way into a touchdown, the Locomotives amp up their energy and counter. The result is a bitter, exhausting struggle that left Middleton down by three. Max is their only hope right now. The crowd’s energy starts to grow the closer Max gets to the endzone. 

 

Watching him means Bonnie doesn’t need to watch her. 

 

She’d spotted Ange a few times throughout the game. Each time, Ange somehow caught her eye. Each time, she’d give Bonnie a sunbright smile. Each time, Bonnie would see Riley sitting right there next to her. Each time, it got harder and harder to keep the peppy energy required for cheerleading. That boy doesn’t deserve her. Why did Ange pick him? She said she wouldn’t. 

 

Fortunately, Bonnie is a skilled actress. Until the game ends, she’ll keep cheering. If it’s easier for her to look towards the field instead of the bleachers, that’s fine too. 

 

Four yards from the endzone, Max’s luck runs out. The Locomotive’s second safety digs his feet into the ground and bursts into action. It takes three seconds for him to close in on him, two for him to tackle Max into the grass, and one for the football to fumble out of his grip and onto the field. 

 

Not even the cheerleaders know what to do for a single, stretching moment. 

Before the dogpile on the ball is even a conscious thought, Brick Flagg, who had been trailing behind Max the entire time, bends down without breaking stride and grabs it. 

 

There are three fundamental aspects about Brick Flagg that should be understood. 

 

The first is that he’s a boy bigger than most. When the first Lowerton’s safety sprints at Brick’s from the side, Brick straightens a massive arm, places a hand on top of the other boy’s head and slams him into the dirt like a ragdoll. Even Bonnie winces in sympathy. 

 

The second is that Brick Flagg is actually a very nice guy. The entire field and half the stadium hear him yell out “Sorry!” as he continues his unfaltering, unstoppable forward march. The boy, currently tasting soil, lets out a muffled ‘-mm mmffomm’. Presumably he’s saying, “I’m okay,” or maybe even “Medic,” it’s really hard to tell. He’s tasting soil. 

 

The third is this: Brick Flagg is a moron. He’s the kind of guy who would point at a pigeon and ask if it’s a butterfly, then not understand why it isn’t no matter how many times it gets explained. He’s about as smart as the soil the Lowerton’s first safety is spitting out of his mouth is. As smart as soil about everything that isn’t football.

 

Out here, on the field, he’s a fucking genius. 

 

As if he’s seen the play coming from a mile away, a yard from the endzone, Brick sets his next foot down into the dirt and pivots to the left. Behind him, Lowerton’s corner back grasps at nothing but air. Then, Brick takes a step backwards, dodging the side tackle from the biggest linebacker on the Locomotives’ team. Brick plants his feet firmly into the ground and eats the tackle the middle linebacker gifts him like it’s nothing.

 

He finally starts walking towards the endzone. The closer he gets, the more Lowerton boys grab onto him, the slower he gets. But he does not fall. Two, then three, then five boys pile onto him. Like a wildfire, or an avalanche, or a third unstoppably titanic force, he just keeps moving his unbelievably powerful legs forwards. 

 

When Brick Flagg crosses the end zone, the entire stadium is dead quiet. 

 

The Lowerton boys let him go in defeat. The crowd stares in slack-jawed awe. The cheerleaders don’t even lift a pom-pom. Brick, finally free, slams the football into the ground, starts gyrating, and lets out a whooping “The Maddogs are OFF THE LEASH!”

 

In the distance, Bonnie swears she hears Ange say ‘Thank you!’ before the crowd goes wild. Thunderous, deafening bellows drown out any rational thought. The entire Maddog team swarms Brick, then lifts him up into the air. Soda, popcorn, hotdogs, and other things Bonnie doesn’t want to identify start flying everywhere. 

 

This is getting a little too close to a food fight. She makes eye contact with the other cheerleaders. They’re thinking the same thing. They nod at her, she nods at them. They all book it out of the stadium before the crowd pours onto the field. By the time they make it to the cheerleaders’ locker room, a rhythmic chant of “Brick, Brick, Brick,” has started. It’s immediately muffled when Bonnie shuts the door, the last one in. She leans her back to it, panting. 

 

“That was crazy!” Hope almost yells. Muscle memory means the girls are already starting to undress for the showers. Bonnie goes to join them. Lucas’ after party is going to be absolutely insane tonight so she’ll need to look her best. 

 

“Did you see the way Brick just dragged those guys around?” Crystal says, grabbing a bottle of shampoo and conditioner. “I didn’t realize he was that strong.” 

 

“You are so lucky,” Jessica says. It takes a moment for Bonnie to realize Jessica is talking to her. Bonnie lets herself fall back into haughty smugness. 

 

“Oh, I know,” she says, examining her perfect nails. “He’s kind of the best.” Bonnie takes a moment to be thankful that she snapped him up ahead of schedule.

 

Brick Flagg just became the hottest guy in school. 

 

“Hey,” Jessica lowers her voice into a mock whisper. “What’s he like?” The salaciousness in her tone tells Bonnie everything she needs to know. She feels her eyelids slide half shut in judgement immediately.

 

“Jessica, don’t be gross,” Bonnie says, scoffing. “That information is classified.” She hasn’t actually slept with Brick yet, and it’s already been a week. This is a reminder that she’ll need to put that on top of her list or risk him getting bored. It’s not like Brick won’t be having options after tonight. 

 

Losing exclusivity with him would knock her down a few pegs on the social ladder. The damage control would be such a headache. 

 

When it looks like Jessica is unconvinced - Bonnie has bragged in the past about other boys - Bonnie leans over with a smirk. “Let’s just say, he’s got stamina.” It prompts Jessica to slap her lightly on the shoulder.

 

“Girl, you are so bad.”

 

Kim’s voice saves her from the rest of the conversation. Thank god.

 

“Hey girls, is it cool if Angie comes and borrows the showers?” Kim says, holding her dorky Kimmunicator in one hand. “She got, uh, covered in milkshake?” Jessica, heading towards the showers, and a few of the girls in the showers start laughing. Tara, at her locker, gives Kim an amused smirk… There is definitely something more underneath it. 

 

“Let her,” Tara says. “I don’t mind. Anyone else?” No one says no, so Kim types out a reply. 

 

For some reason, Tara wiggles her shoulders from side to side. When Bonnie raises an eyebrow at her, the emotion underneath her smirk becomes more obvious. She makes her way to Bonnie, resting a chin on her shoulder.

 

“Do you think if I ask nicely enough, Angie will let me touch her abs?” Tara whispers.

 

Possessive anger (it is NOT jealousy) snarls in the depths of Bonnie’s chest. “Tara!” 

 

“What?” Tara says, pouting innocently. But it is not an innocent look at all. Bonnie knows that Tara can be just as much of a snake as Ange. It’s one of the reasons Bonnie likes her so much. “I was going to get you in on it too.”

 

“Huh,” Bonnie says smartly. Tara’s eyes squint affectionately, looking like she just confirmed something to herself. 

 

Feeling too exposed, Bonnie turns away to grab her body wash. She wasn’t going to be sharing with Ange this time. “Don’t be a perv, Tara,” Bonnie mutters, not thinking about Ange’s abs. The abs she’ll be seeing shortly. Because Ange is about to shower with them. Naked. 

 

Bonnie forces herself to be normal. 

 

In the distance is the sound of a door opening and closing. There are no footsteps, and there are no chimes of a bell. Tara’s eyes flicker over Bonnie’s shoulder and Bonnie knows who it is from the grin on Tara’s face-

 

Tara breaks out into genuine laughter. “Oh my god, Angie!” It’s enough to make Bonnie look around. When she sees Ange, Bonnie lets out an unbidden snort. 

 

Ange is carrying a duffel that Bonnie knows has her mission gear inside. She’s also caked in a thick goo of milkshake (various flavors). “Hi girls,” she says lamely. The sheepish smile on her face is kind of cute. Kind of. Bonnie is certain there’s a french fry stuck in her hair. “Thanks for lending me your shower room.” 

 

“Anytime, Angie.” Tara has to cover her mouth with a hand, lest she start giggling again. The duffel thuds on the metal island bench. Bonnie’s eyes pop out of her skull when Ange reaches underneath the hem of her shirt and starts peeling it upwards. 

 

Bonnie sees abs. And some really nice arms. And the muscles on Ange’s back are surprisingly defined. She rips her gaze away when Ange starts unbuttoning her pants. It’s time to be normal again.

 

“Hey, Angie?” Bonnie hears Tara say. Bonnie shoots Tara a look that she ignores. Bitch.

 

“Yeah?” 

 

“Can I touch your abs?” 

 

“H-hu-uh,” Ange says smartly. “I-I guess so? If you want- want to.”

 

“Great, thanks!” Tara openly eyes Ange up and down. “Maybe after your shower.”

 

“That’s, uhm, very logical.” 

 

Every single instinct in Bonnie goes haywire when Tara wraps an arm around Bonnie’s shoulder. “Oh, and Angie?” 

 

“W-what’s up?” 

 

“Do you think you could let Bonnie touch them too?”

 

Bonnie clenches her tube of bodywash so hard the cap pops off.

 

 

Chapter 56: Chapter 55

Ange spends the entire shower staring at the tile walls. It’s only polite. When she’s finally finished getting all the french fries, popcorn, and milkshake off of her... her, she walks into the locker room to find that Tara is the only other one there. Thankfully, because it would not be polite to think otherwise, Tara is dressed. Ange isn’t, and Tara drags her beautiful blue eyes up and down Ange’s form in a very impolite manner. Ange can’t bring herself to mind it. 

 

Wordlessly, Ange starts gathering her things from her duffel. Since the last time she was here, Ange had added a fluffy towel to her mission gear. Pre-planning and all that. 

 

Speaking of pre-planning.

 

“Tara, do you know how to get to Lucas’?” 

 

“You don’t know the way?” When Ange finishes putting on her clean sports bra, she turns around to see Tara regarding her in amusement. “But you were gonna go to his party?”

 

Ange nods. When Tara raises an eyebrow, Ange explains. “I know he lives within a mile of Middleton High. At the speed I travel on my bicycle, I can start a radial pattern from the front of the school through each block and find the place within the hour.” The party should have already started by now. Bonnie said that being fashionably late was more than acceptable. 

 

For some reason, Tara starts giggling at her. No matter how much Ange thinks about it, she can't figure out what she said that might have been weird. That doesn't stop her from looking at Tara and quacking. Tara starts laughing harder. Mission accomplished.

 

“I'll text you the address, one sec.” The sound of Ange's flip phone signals an incoming message. As Ange memorizes the address, she hears Tara walking up beside her.

 

“Do you need a ride?” Ange says, sliding her phone back into the pocket of her joggers. Men's, because they have pockets that work. 

 

“That'd be nice, thanks.” Tara says, watching her face. Ange tilts her head curiously. What exactly is Tara looking for- 

 

Ange's brain stops working when a warm hand presses against her bare stomach. She blankly stares at it, then follows it along Tara's arm up to a face carrying a mischievous smile. 

 

“So, is it just girls that you like?” 

 

“Buh?” Ange says smartly. Tata huffs out a laugh. At least she's kind enough to wait for Ange's answer. Not trusting her voice, Ange just nods.

 

“Hmm, I guess the rumors are false then.” 

 

Before Ange can ask for any clarification, Tara starts running a warm palm up and down her stomach. It sends electricity down her spine. With a shaking hand, Ange reaches over and gently grasps Tara’s wrist, keeping it in place easily. It's slender, and looks very nice in Ange's hand, though that is just an opinion. 

 

“Tara,” Ange says, voice cracking. “If you keep doing that, I'm going to fall in love with you.” 

 

It makes Tara’s face go blank for just a moment. Her pretty blue eyes go wide and her mouth parts. A bright red flush paints Tara’s cheeks, then her ears, then down her neck. It’s a very aesthetically beautiful sight. Ange lets herself enjoy it, even as she feels herself blush just as hard.

 

“Oh!” Tara manages to say. She doesn’t seem to know where to look. Eventually, she settles on the floor, scuffing the toe of her shoe against the cement. “Oh, cool.” Ange lets her wrist go so Tara can pull it behind her back. “Wow- uhm.” Tara shyly peaks up at Ange, then looks back down. “Cool.” 

 

How cute.

 

Ange gives her a fond, crooked smile and turns away to finish dressing. Tara doesn’t say anything the entire time. Thankfully, she doesn’t seem to be freaking out about it, just introspective. As curious as Ange is about it, she refuses to make any wild, or even, educated guesses. It would be impolite.

 

---

 

Lucas’ house thumps with loud bass. The only thing louder, is perhaps, the conversation, cheers, and whooping yells from the inhabitants of the home. Brick is the star of the show tonight. Sitting on the couch with his dopey grin and kind eyes, he listens as the others on the football team recount his play over and over again. Each time, it gets a little more dramatic, until Brick had finished the game by plowing through the entire Locomotives’ team as if they were paper mache. 

 

Bonnie, never one to miss an opportunity, lounges on top of his lap. Every so often, she presses a snack to his lips or passes him another beer. From the grin on Brick’s face, and the slightly envious glances he gets every so often, she’s playing her part perfectly. 

 

“It really was no big, guys,” Brick says. “I just kind of thought Max made the play twice in the same game. There’s no way they’d let him do a third.”

 

Max, sitting on the other end of the couch shrugs good naturedly. “It works until it doesn’t.” 

 

Brick nods along sagely. Bonnie steals a sip from Brick’s beer. Football is whatever, not that she’d ever tell any of these boys that. All she has to do right now is sit here and look pretty so everyone at the party can see her.

 

She gives the room a lazy glance around. Everyone from the football team to the art club is here. That means, frustratingly, a lot of other, less popular kids are around. Bonnie can deal. Through the space, Bonnie sees every single cheerleader besides Kim - who’s too much of a goody goody to join - and Tara - who she doesn’t want to think about right now. 

 

Bonnie does anyway.

 

Tara is definitely getting too comfortable with teasing her. Asking to touch Ange in front of her is already a no go, but then dragging Bonnie into it? Bonnie can feel her face go warm, and she steals another sip of Brick’s beer. Asking in the locker room, right before they would shower together? Of all the places…

 

It had been one of the most awkward showers of her life. Tara had acted like everything was normal. Ange had stared at the wall the entire time - nothing new there. It gave the girls a view of her back, at least. It’s a very nice back. And her- 

 

Bonnie abandons all pretense and just takes Brick’s entire beer. She’ll get him a new one later. 

 

Thankfully, Bonnie had left before the other two. Tara would have totally cashed in on her request, and then dragged Bonnie into it. Knowing her Angie, the more feral Possible would have let them both rub her abs until they were all...

 

Bonnie presses the mouth of the bottle to her lips and takes a long drink. She doesn’t let herself think about why she’s so pissed off. There are a lot of reasons. None of them are remotely important. 

 

“Bonnie?” Brick’s voice brings her out of her musings. When she looks at him, he’s watching her with a tiny little frown. It doesn’t fit his face at all. “Are you okay?” Bonnie raises an eyebrow.

 

“Why wouldn’t I be, Brick?” Anyone else would have picked up on her tone and backed off. Bonnie forgot that Brick is as dense as his namesake. 

 

“You look stressed,” Brick says. A few of the boys around him wince. A few others start inching away.

 

Bonnie feels her eyes narrow into dangerous slits. It gets the brain cell in his head to start firing. “You don’t think I’m pretty?”

 

Brick’s face drops into something like fear. “No-no, I mean, yes? I mean- you’re always pretty, Bonnie.” A good answer. Bonnie finishes off her pilfered beer, waiting to see if he’ll dig himself into a deeper hole. “I just.. I don’t know. I just wanted to know if you were happy?” 

 

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t be?” 

 

The boy starts stammering nervously. Bonnie rolls her eyes. She stops half way through.

 

From Bonnie’s spot in Brick’s lap, she has the perfect view of the front of the home. Lucas’ house is very nice, with an ornate front door and big floor to ceiling windows that show off a cultivated front yard. It means she can see when Ange coasts her bike to a stop behind a hedge. She can see Tara on the back of it, an arm wrapped tightly around Ange’s waist. The two of them are talking about something that Bonnie can’t hear. 

 

They’re smiling.

 

Brick is still stammering something out when she makes her decision. She hops off of his lap, which makes him look devastated. Then she grabs him by the chest of his shirt and tugs at it until he stands up, which makes him look confused. 

 

“C’mon, big boy,” Bonnie says, marching farther into the house. “I need to talk to you, one on one.” Brick has enough time to look back at the other boys. They look as confused as he is. 

 

Bonnie has been to Lucas’ a few times before. Fuzzy, drunk memories collide with boiling determination. Determination to not care about how happy Ange or Tara can look without her. Together. Determination to only care about the here and now, and Brick stumbling behind her. She opens the door to one of the lesser known rooms in the home and pushes Brick inside. 

 

It’s a lounge room. The kind that has a wall to wall bookcase, lots of comfy seating and a fireplace at the end. On the complete opposite side of the house, with no music, TV, or alcohol nearby, it’s no wonder it doesn’t attract the kind of crowd that’s here to party. So, perfect. 

 

Bonnie still needs to sleep with him. 

 

Brick looks around the place, then back at her. “Look, Bonnie, about earlier. I didn’t mean to make you mad.” He runs a nervous hand through his blonde hair. “I’m sorry for, uh, digging into it-” To get him to stop talking, Bonnie places a hand on his massive chest. 

 

“It’s alright, Brickie,” Bonnie says, honey-sweet. Though Brick looks incredibly confused, a blush starts forming on his cheeks. “I’m not mad.”

 

“You’re not?” Now, a goofy grin colors his face. “That’s great!” The gear in his head must be turning smoothly today, because it quickly slides off of him. “Then- uh, what are we doing here?” 

 

“Hm,” Bonnie hums out, amused. It’s easy to wear her smirk and let her eyelids fall half closed. She lets her hand slide under the zipper of his jacket, encouraging it to fall off broad shoulders. Brick watches it hit the ground. “I don’t know, Brick. Why do you think I might have brought you here?” 

 

Dawning makes him take an excited breath. “Oh,” Brick says smartly. Then, he grips the hem of his shirt and pulls it off over his head. His pectorals flex as he tosses his shirt somewhere. “Cool.” Chiseled abdominals undulate with his breathing. He really should be the dream guy every girl would want. 

 

He steps closer to her. It means she can smell the aggressive, cedary cologne Brick puts on after his showers. Too much of it. Bonnie doesn’t let it show on her face. She lets him wrap his hands around her hips, watches as his grin gets a little more primal. 

 

“Maddogs are off the leash,” Brick says.

 

Bonnie gags, then crosses her arms. “No.”

 

“Oh,” Brick says, mildly apologetic. It’ll do. He bends down and kisses her once on the lips. Bonnie plays her part perfectly, sliding her hand up his chest, then snaking it around his neck. When he pulls back, delight plainly in his eyes, Bonnie makes sure to smile sweetly at him. 

 

“Woof.”

 

Abrupt, white hot anger colors Bonnie’s vision for just a moment. She forcibly clamps it back down. He notices anyway. She can’t control the glare she gives him. Her hand shakes against his skin. Brick’s mouth falls open with confusion.

 

“Do not say that,” Bonnie hisses. The fury behind it makes her pause. Quickly, she leans up and pecks him on the lips. The only apology she’s willing to give. 

 

“Noted,” Brick mumbles. He looks too much like a kicked puppy. Bonnie refuses to let the situation fall any further out of control. 

 

“It’s alright.” She traces his jawline with her fingers until he shivers. Better. “Let’s forget about everything, Brickie,” Bonnie coos. She presses closer to him. He’s just a man, helpless to her whiles. The hands on her hips tighten their grip. “Just for a little bit.” When she tilts her head towards one of the couches, he walks them there. When she pushes him onto it, he lets her.

 

Straddling him feels like climbing a mountain. That doesn’t matter. This time, she pulls her top off and throws it somewhere. Brick stares up at her with excited awe. She gives him a fox smirk. “Right now, it’s just you and me,” Bonnie murmurs. She leans down and closes her eyes. 

 

Just the two of them. Nothing else matters. 

 

The hands on her hips are too big. 

 

She’s grown accustomed to it.

Chapter 57: Chapter 56

Notes:

tw for blood later in the chapter.

 

Brick walks back into the room with a content smile. When he catches sight of her, wearing his Maddog purple varsity jacket and nothing else, it blooms into something brighter. Bonnie looks at her nails so she doesn’t have to see it. 

 

“That was great,” Brick says as he sits down on the couch beside her. “Thanks, Bon-bon.”

 

“Don’t call me that,” Bonnie says. Best to nip that habit right in the bud. Brick winces once, then nods and throws an arm over her shoulder. It’s heavy, but it’s warm, so Bonnie leans into his side. She doesn’t notice how he keeps glancing down at her out of the corner of his eye.

 

“So…” Brick makes a fist with his free hand and coughs into it. She glances at him side-long. “Can I… Do you?”

 

Bonnie goes very still. Now she knows why Ange acts like that. 

 

“What does that mean?” Bonnie says icily. She hears Brick swallow loudly. He looks both confused and scared.

 

“W-well, you didn’t- uh.. Uh,” Brick stammers, waving his free hand around as he figures out how he’s going to phrase this. “You didn’t finish.” The glare he receives makes him shrink backwards. “It’s just not fair if I’m the only one, right? So let me… fix it.”

 

Slowly, with the deliberation of a predator approaching unaware prey, Bonnie crosses her arms. “Clarify that for me. How exactly would you,” Bonnie uses a hand to make quotes in the air. “Fix it.”

 

Brick doesn’t look like he wants to answer, which is just fine by her. She hops off the couch, shedding his jacket. It’s five sizes too big anyway. “We’re cool as is, Brickie.” For this party, she’d worn her favorite teal jacket, white top and white skirt combination. She starts putting them back on, not looking behind her at Brick. “You had fun, didn’t you?”

 

“Yeah,” Brick mutters. 

 

“I had fun with you,” Bonnie says. The thought of Brick trying to make her… finish, makes her a little queasy. There’s only so much of her that Bonnie can give to Brick. She makes her way towards the door, then pauses right before she touches the door knob. When she glances over her shoulder she gives him a warm smile. “It’ll be a nice memory, don’t you think?”

 

He blinks a few times, not sure what else to do besides nod and grin with confusion. Now Bonnie knows why Ange enjoys throwing people off kilter too.

 

“Great!” Bonnie says, sweeter than sugar. “Then let's leave it at that, ‘kay?”

 

“Okay, Bonnie.” Brick purses his lips. Then he sighs, and gives her that puppy dog smile she’s gotten so used to seeing. A bit of tension in Bonnie’s chest uncoils. “It was really fun.”

 

As fondly as she can manage, Bonnie rolls her eyes. Then she opens the door and starts heading back towards the party. The last thing she sees before leaving is Brick pulling his shirt back over his head.  

 

She needs to find something to drink.

 

---

 

“I’m just saying, I think the toaster oven is the best appliance,” Madison says as she sits on the kitchen counter. Her boyfriend, Peter, is leaning his back against the counter between her legs. Every so often, he passes her a cracker. “Because, like, you can make toast in it, or hotdogs, or grilled cheese. Just set the timer and go. So I’d be that.”

 

“No way,” Clover, leaning against a wall, shakes her head vehemently. “The only appliance I would wanna be is a cast iron skillet. I’d be taken care of, I can make sunny side up eggs, and!” She lifts her hand in the air. Her glass full of orange juice and vodka sloshes around. “I would be an excellent weapon.”

 

“Who cares about self defense,” Madison replies. “I’ve never needed to protect myself my entire life. I need to eat every day, though. And toaster ovens are easier to clean.”

 

“When did I say anything about self defense,” Clover says, blinking innocently. From her chair at the table, Ange snorts in laughter. Clover nods, gesturing at her. “See? Angie gets it. The skillet is the queen of the kitchen.”

 

“I’d be the fridge,” Ange corrects her. “People use the fridge every day. I’d get lonely otherwise.” When Clover starts pouting, Ange adds onto her explanation. “Also, if you pushed me onto someone, it would probably kill them.” That gets a round of thoughtful hums from everyone in the kitchen. Another social interaction conquered. Ange takes a victory sip of her just orange juice from her glass. 

 

“I’d be a knife,” Peter says. The thought clearly makes him happy in a deranged sort of way. Madison coos and drops a kiss onto his forehead. That also makes him happy in a less deranged way. They’re adorable together.

 

Footsteps catch Ange’s attention. The door opens leading into the far hallway, catching everyone else’s. When they see who it is, a chorus of “Bonnie!” sounds throughout the kitchen. It’s an amusing tradition. Bonnie must think so too, because she gives the room a satisfied smile as she makes her way to the counter full of drinks. 

 

“Hey, Bonnie,” Clover says. Bonnie lets out a prompting hum as she pours herself some vodka. Brick lumbers into the room from the same hallway as Bonnie. “If you had to be anything in a kitchen, what would you be?” 

 

Bonnie pauses, then looks up to give Clover a bewildered look. “What?” The way she says it makes it sound like she’s wondering why they’re friends. Ange suspects that this is exactly why they’re friends. 

 

“Madison wants to be a toaster oven,” Clover says as explanation, explaining nothing. Bonnie pours herself a bit more vodka before adding in her mixer. Cranberry juice.

 

“I guess I’d be a cast iron skillet?” Bonnie sighs out, then knocks her entire drink back. The movement exposes a bite mark on her neck. Ange stares at it. “Those things can be, like, deadly, can’t they?”

 

“Thank you, Bonnie.” Clover says. “This is why you’re my favorite.” The look she gives to Madison is smug and pointed. 

 

“I would hope it’s for more than that,” Bonnie says dryly. She’s using her cup to hide a pleased smile. Ange is still staring when Bonnie slides into a chair beside her. 

 

“I’d wanna be a dishwasher,” Brick says, making his own drink. Almost everyone looks at him with intrigue - Ange tries to pass her glance off as intrigue. He’s more relaxed than Ange has ever seen him. The grip on her glass tightens. “‘Cause then I could help my moms out with more of the dishes.” 

 

Almost everyone in the room swoons. Bonnie sits a little straighter in her chair, smirking. That’s her man.

 

Ange leans back into her seat and drinks all of her orange juice from her glass in one giant gulp. For the first time ever, she wishes there was something more in there. She hates herself for it.

 

Bonnie deserves someone as sweet as him. Brick will treat her properly, like a gentleman.  It makes her a bad person for hating that Brick is a good one. A bad and selfish person.

 

Brick drops heavily into the next seat at the kitchen table besides Bonnie. The smile she gives him makes Ange look down at her empty glass. There’s no reason this sitch’ should be a big deal, anyway. Between Bonnie and her, there is nothing but friendship.

 

Something nudges her shoulder. When Ange looks over, Bonnie is giving her a quizzical look. 

 

Right. She’s forgotten to control the expression on her face. Ange lets her eyes squint affectionately. The smile she gives Bonnie is warm, but not enough. There's an assessment going on inside Bonnie’s mind. Ange can see it. She needs to say something to distract Bonnie before she starts guessing. 

 

Ange opens her mouth right as Brick slides an arm around Bonnie’s shoulder. 

 

The glass in Ange’s hand implodes into shattered fragments. Shards of it let out twinkling notes as they impact the kitchen floor.

 

Out of the corner of her eyes, Ange sees everyone jump in surprise. Mostly, she sees Bonnie flinch backwards in her chair. Ange looks down at her hand. 

 

Blood is starting to swell out between the creases of her clenched fist. Numb fascination compels her to unfurl the fingers from her palm and stare. It’s kind of pretty. Her blood quickly covers up the glass embedded into her skin. Someone in the room starts swearing, maybe Madison? She’s got a bit of a mouth on her, that one.

 

A pair of beautiful hands wrap a kitchen towel underneath her dripping hand. She’d recognize who they belong to, even without the deep blue nail polish Bonnie’s been favoring lately. 

 

“Jesus, Ange!” 

 

Ange snaps her attention to Bonnie’s face. The fear in Bonnie’s eyes finally knocks her out of her stupor. “C’mon, I know where a first aid kit is.” Bonnie’s voice wavers. Ange is definitely a bad person for enjoying that. 

 

“I’m alright, Bonnie-”

“Shut up!” Bonnie grabs the collar of Ange’s red bolero jacket and tugs. Ange gets up and lets Bonnie drag her down the hallway. The fourth door to the left turns out to be a bathroom. Bonnie makes Ange sit on the edge of the tub as she flings open the medicine cabinet over the sink. Bonnie frantically pulls out a white box with a familiar red cross. Her hands shake hard enough that whatever is inside rattles. 

 

“What the fuck- Ange?!” 

 

“It’s okay,” Ange says. She looks back down to examine her hand. She starts dabbing at the blood with the towel Bonnie gave her. “Nothing needs stitches.” 

 

“Stop talking!” Bonnie snaps. But it seems to help a little. Bonnie is no longer trembling when she opens up the box. “How the hell-”

 

“Are there tweezers in there?” Ange interrupts her. “Grab those, antiseptic, ointment, gauze and cotton padding.” Any other time, Bonnie would have bitten her head off. Now, Bonnie just gathers the items and sits on top of the toilet seat. She slaps away Ange’s (uninjured) hand when Ange reaches for them. 

 

“Show me,” Bonnie orders. Despite everything, Ange obeys her. Palm up, Ange offers herself to Bonnie. 

 

When did she become so pathetic? Why couldn’t she stop herself? What happened to that self control she was so proud of?

 

Bonnie grasps her wrist, leaning closer to see the damage. The bleeding has slowed. Red slowly weeps around glittering splinters of glass. Bonnie drags the trashcan closer with her foot and begins to ruthlessly pick at them. Each movement brings another stab of pain. 

 

It feels good. At least, it feels better to focus on that, than the memory of that mark on Bonnie’s neck.

 

“Why did you do that?” Bonnie says sharply, focusing hard on prying everything down to the smallest needle out of Ange’s hand. Healed scars, faded scabs, new cuts paint an awful tapestry. 

 

“What were you thinking? Be more careful, you idiot.” 

 

Both of their heads are bowed together. This close, and Ange could lean in and rest her forehead against Bonnie’s. She’s done that a few times before. Instead, Ange watches the top of her head. Her hair is beautifully healthy. Thick and shiny and unusually messy. Ange knows why. 

 

Gripped between Bonnie’s careful grasp, a drop of water splashes down onto Ange’s wrist. In front of her, Bonnie locks into place. Another drip makes Bonnie look up. There’s worry underneath those turquoise eyes. Open worry. It makes it easier for Ange to realize that-

 

“Sorry,” Ange mutters. Blankly, she looks back down at her cut up palm. When she flexes her fingers experimentally, a fresh wave of hurt radiates out of it. Once the glass is gone, she’ll have to wash it. Assuming Bonnie doesn’t do that for her.

 

It’s not fair that Bonnie could still treat her so gently. It’s not. 

 

There is no deeper meaning to the look Bonnie gives her. From the beginning, they’ve only ever been friends. 

 

“Sorry, it just-” 

 

This close together, and Ange doesn’t smell florals and spice. A cloud of cedarwood clings aggressively to Bonnie’s skin. The smell of someone else. Ange knows who. 

 

The mark on Bonnie’s neck doesn’t belong to her. 

 

“Just-” Ange squeezes her eyes shut. A pitiful attempt to stop anymore tears from falling down her face. 

 

It doesn’t work. 

 

“It hurts.” 

 

Chapter 58: Chapter 57

The thought of going home right now makes Ange sick. When she gets back onto her bike, she points it in the opposite direction and starts peddling towards the bad part of Middleton. Its moniker makes it sound worse than it actually is. There are certainly a few hoodlums hanging around there, but mostly, it’s abandoned warehouses and the homeless population that have found a fair bit of shelter within them.

 

At the very edge of the city, in the last but biggest building, is where her Shifu resides. For as long as Ange has known her no one but she has dared approach it. 

 

Ange wheels her bike into the open concrete floor. It’s painful to use her right hand. That’s a good thing tonight. Using that hand, she shuts the garage door behind her, plunging the building into darkness. Only the moonlight filtering through a dusty old window keeps anything illuminated with depressing gloom. For some reason, her Shifu likes it that way. 

 

“You came to visit,” her Shifu’s voice calls out from the shadows. The scent of roasting tobacco licks along the floor and walls. Ange can hear it crackle when her Shifu inhales. She identifies the location by sound, then sight. The bright orange red of a smoldering cherry pipe, and two eyes that burn the exact same color. Before Ange had met Shego, she would have dismissed that as a trick of the light. Now… they’re glowing, aren’t they? 

 

It’s useless to speculate. Her Shifu won’t answer any of her questions.

 

“Shifu, I’m sorry for dropping by unannounced,” Ange says, putting her palm to her fist in greeting. “I didn’t know where else to go.” 

 

“Hm,” Shifu grunts. Ange hears an exhale. Two sunbright eyes are temporarily obscured in a haze of smoke. “You’re injured.” Ange can only nod. She doesn’t want to answer any questions either. “Have you eaten?” 

 

“Oh!” It's legitimate surprise. This kind of care is unusual from her Shifu. “Uh, no, I haven’t.” 

 

When Shifu stands, it’s like trying to stare at the peak of a mountain. She’s the tallest woman Ange has ever met. Her eyes are the only thing Ange can see, and they tower over her, even from so far away. Without noise, they stalk closer towards her, then stop just out of reach from the pool of moonlight. 

 

A boney hand breaches the darkness. It’s holding an ancient looking, elegantly carved, ivory pipe. Tobacco smoke seeps upwards from it. Ange frowns.

 

“Shifu, smoking is bad for you,” Ange mutters. “You should really quit that habit.” 

 

“Take it from me,” her Shifu replies. Just barely, Ange can make out the flash of her incisors when she smiles. “Take it from me, and I’ll pay for dinner.” 

 

“And if I can’t?”

 

“You’ll pay for dinner.” 

 

Fair.

 

Ange shoots her arm out. Her Shifu raises her hand by two inches, and Ange’s grasping fingers touch nothing but air. She doesn’t even pause to express disappointment. Already, her feet are pushing off the ground, lunging Ange forward. Shifu pivots on one of her own, letting Ange fly past her. 

 

Her recovery is instant. 

 

Her Shifu is faster. The next moment Ange’s sneaker touches the ground, she redirects herself towards the older woman. Shifu is already walking backwards, holding her ivory pipe just out of reach. As Ange starts to pick up speed, her Shifu only places her pipe back into her mouth to free up her hand. 

 

The next time Ange reaches her hand out, Shifu grips her wrist and yanks her upwards into the air. There’s a beautiful moment where Ange can see the round, full moon through the crusty window pane before she realizes she’s about to smack face first into a wall. She twists her hips, planting the balls of her feet against the brick just in time. Ange bends her knees, then pushes herself downwards with outstretched palms. 

 

A guttural hiss escapes her as her bandaged hand hits concrete. It brings a snarling grin onto her face. She springs off the floor. To her surprise, she lands right in front of Shifu. After her instincts tell her that this is wrong, but before she can realize why, her Shifu exhales.

 

Billowing smoke bursts across her face,

 

“Wah- augh!” Acidic, earthy, tar scent fills her nose. Ange waves her hands across her face, immediately bursting into a coughing fit. A low chuckle undercuts the noise, making Ange grimace, then pout. Her Shifu has retreated back into the dark. This time, only her eyes can be seen.

 

“I’m feeling Ethiopian,” Shifu says. “Are you feeling Ethiopian?” 

 

Ange rubs at her nose one last time. If she gets cancer, she’s gonna get Kim to beat this woman up. “Never had it before,” she mumbles. When her Shifu reappears back in the moonlight, her pipe is gone. 

 

“Then you’re in for a treat,” she says and nods towards Ange’s bike. “I know a place.”

 

---

 

Ange leans against the faded leather backrest of her booth and stares at the ceiling. For the first time since her genetic experiment, she actually feels like her stomach has too much food in it. With the warm, fuzzy delirium only overeating can produce, she rubs her tummy with content. On the other side of the table, her Shifu wipes her mouth with a napkin and watches her. 

 

“How did that happen?”  

 

Ange looks down at her other hand. It had been hard to eat her meal with this wound and bandage, but she was nothing if not adaptable. “Oh, uh… It’s nothing.” The look Shifu gives her makes her lick the outside of her teeth. “...There’s a girl-” 

 

Shifu's laughter cuts her off. It's the first time she's heard it. Ange drinks in the crease of Shifu’s unfamiliar smile with wide eyes. The expression her Shifu has hides the sharpness of her features. 

 

Clutching her belly, her Shifu leans forward until her forehead is pressed to the table. That hides everything but the shake of her shoulders. Enough time passes that it's about to start to get hurtful when her Shifu finally sits up. She's biting her lip hard, though. How rude.

 

“A girl, hmm? That's a tale as old as time.” For once, the coldness in those eyes is drowned out by warm amusement. “I understand why, now. And I trust you're not stupid enough to let it get infected.”

 

“No,” Ange says, ruefully resting her chin onto her noninjured hand. “I wouldn't be able to work on my projects otherwise.”

 

“Good child.” 

 

Is it pathetic that Ange feels pride bloom underneath her breast? Maybe. 

 

“Listen to this wisdom, Angelus,” Shifu says. There's weight in those words. “Women are only worth fighting for if they share your affections. If they don't, they only bring trouble.”

 

“That's a little chauvinistic, don't you think?” Ange mutters quietly around a tongue that feels thick in her mouth. Unfortunately, her Shifu has never steered her wrong. “I.. I know, though. That I can't ask for more from her. Not that there's anything more I'd want to ask for,” Ange adds quickly.

 

Her Shifu seems greatly amused by Ange's denial. Gracefully, impossibly gracefully, her Shifu slides out of the booth and onto her feet.

 

“Go home.” Boney fingers clasp around Ange's shoulder. “Hug your mother. When you're ready for your next lesson, you know where I'll be.” Then, her Shifu silently walks past her. Ange doesn't watch her go. 

 

Ange stays in her booth for a little while longer, nursing a glass of room temperature water. After the last sip, she finally gets out of the booth - less graceful, but not clumsy. She walks up to the pay counter and pulls out her wallet. The old lady sitting behind the register shakes her head before Ange can pay. The years carved into her skin are beautiful.

 

“No need,” she says. Ange raises a confused eyebrow that makes her grin. The woman is missing a front tooth. “Your auntie already paid for you.”

 

The bicycle ride home is cold and dark. It doesn't matter. 

 

Ange has a light on the front of her bike that guides the way, and food in her belly that keeps her warm. When she arrives home, after she's stowed her bike in the garage and taken her shoes off at the front door, she finds Ann in the kitchen and hugs her for a long, long time. 

 

---

 

This is the first time in two weeks that Bonnie finds herself in the library before school. There is no more playing dress up with Ange, no more makeup, and certainly, there will be no more quiet moments that are between just the two of them. Bonnie stares down at her half finished math homework, aching. 

 

Ange hadn't contacted her all weekend. Likely, hopefully, Ange had just been stuck in the laboratory. Reception is terrible down there. 

 

Bonnie just wishes… 

 

The last time she saw Ange, Ange had been crying. She had been bleeding. The look on her face had been devastation, not pain. Why?

 

Bonnie just wishes Ange had sent her some kind of text telling her that everything was okay. Even if it's a lie.

 

The sound of footsteps breaks the quiet of the library. Bonnie looks up and sees Donavan and his too big backpack walking towards her. He seems to be as apprehensive as she feels right now. But, the things that must be done for friendship. She sighs and pushes her work to the side. 

 

“Ms. Rockwaller,” Donavan greets quietly. Silently, Bonnie gestures at the chair on the other side of the table. He sits. Bonnie reaches into her reasonably sized backpack and pulls out a drawing pad.

 

It’s best to get right to it. The less time she has to spend with this geek, the better. “I came up with something that suits you,” Bonnie says just as quietly. She's in the librarian's good graces and she's not about to waste all that goodwill. Bonnie slides it across the table for Donavan to look at.

 

Drawing isn’t her strong suit. That doesn’t mean she’s bad at it, either. If she were to judge herself honestly, and she (almost) always does, she would say she was decently in the middle. It’s enough to get her point across. Donavan must think so too, because his eyebrows raise higher and higher up his forehead the longer he looks at her drawing and notes. 

 

“I can’t help you with any of the gadgets or whatever,” Bonnie says, not at all self conscious. Being self conscious means she cares about his opinion, and she definitely does not. “But, like, if you pay for the fabric, I could probably stitch something together. It would take a bit of time, though. I have a social life to take care of.” 

 

Donavan rolls his eyes at her. It’s really rude, but she’ll let it slide for Ange’s sake. 

 

“That’s just fine,” Donavan says. “It’ll take me a while to acquire the knowledge to make the gadgets needed for this concept.”

 

“You don’t know how?” Bonnie asks, almost incredulous. 

 

Donavan sniffs, adjusting his glasses defensively. “Ms. Rockwaller, do not compare me to Angelus. As a Possible, she is… exceptionally gifted.”

 

Which is fair, in a really unfair kind of way. How could a bloodline be so important? Now that Bonnie thinks about it, she still hasn’t figured out what Ange meant about the implications of her Kostrama bloodline. She’ll need to work on that today. After she talks to Tara about her tendency to tease Bonnie. And after she makes sure to schedule a date with Brick. And she still needs to figure out what favor she needs to ask Sierra for.

 

Bonnie rubs her temples. Her life has always been busy, but it’s getting stressful now. 

 

“We both have stuff to do, alright. Just let me know when you’ve done your part and I’ll let you know when I’ve done mine,” Bonnie snaps. Still quietly, because the librarian is glancing at them every so often. Donavan grunts, looking over Bonnie silently. The assessment makes Bonnie bristle.

 

“What?”

 

“Do you need help on your homework, Ms. Rockwaller?” Donavan replies. Bonnie sits back in her chair, glaring hard enough that Donavan starts to look uncomfortable. “...I just noticed that you were doing math. I need to repay you for your assistance.” 

 

Not owing anyone anything is something Bonnie can respect. And this homework is getting really confusing. And Ange still hasn’t messaged her- Augh.

 

“Fine,” Bonnie says. “Let's make it quick.” 

 

Anything to stop her worrying.

Chapter 59: Chapter 58

It turns out, having a math genius around makes homework go a lot faster. 

 

Unfortunately, this math genius is stubborn and mean, and not in the fun way. When Bonnie says they should go find Ange at her locker in separate trips, Donavan looks her in the eye and tells her that’s stupid - his exact words were, “Why would you even suggest something so inefficient?” - but the sentiment is the same.

 

Probably.

 

Then, he hikes his too big backpack over his shoulder and walks out of the library, presumably towards Ange’s locker. 

 

Bonnie, not one to be upstaged, shoves all of her notes into her pack and hustles out of the library, only slowing down after she’s overtaken Donavan. Right in the middle of feeling good about herself, Donavan picks up his pace and walks past her. Bonnie stares at his back with pure, malicious offense. 

 

This time, she’ll let it go. She’s above such petty squabbles. 

 

---

 

Ange closes her locker just in time to hear two sets of footsteps running down the hallway. She turns to assess the commotion and sees Bonnie, face set and sprinting full speed at her. Behind her by several feet, Donavan struggles to keep up. He’s never been very athletic though. At least they’re getting along.

 

A smile starts to spread along Ange’s face. Then it pauses when she realizes Bonnie isn’t stopping. Ange braces the sole of her foot against the bottom of the locker and opens her arms. Seconds later, Bonnie slams full speed into her. Ange lets herself absorb the impact. Slender arms wrap around her torso. Bonnie buries her face against Ange’s shoulder and Ange stares at the top of her head in confused wonder. 

 

Donavan comes to a skidding halt in front of them, then doubles over while he catches his breath. Bonnie, much more athletic, isn’t even panting. She sticks her head out, glancing sidelong at Donavan, then sniffs haughtily. 

 

“Hi, Ange,” Bonnie says very normally. She seems content to stay where she is, so Ange starts to tidy a few of Bonnie’s stray locks. Once she’s done, Ange remembers her Shifu’s words, and quietly untangles herself from Bonnie’s grip.

 

“Good morning, Bonnie,” Ange says, also normal. “Are you having fun?” 

 

Bonnie watches her for a few beats, then schools her expression and places both of her hands onto her hips. “It’s Monday, Angie. No one is having fun.” 

 

“Fair.” 

 

Ange turns to Donavan, who is finally catching his breath. “Good morning, Donavan. Why, ah… what’s with all the fanfare?”

 

Donavan looks at her, then shares a glance with Bonnie. Curious.

 

“Good morning, Angelus.” He straightens out, pursing his lips. “It’s nothing important. Did you hear about the smart overlay contact lenses that ETH Zurich will be releasing next month?” If Ange didn’t know him so well, she never would have caught onto the fact that he’s lying, let alone the fact that he’s diverting her attention. 

 

Very curious. For now, she won't press.

 

“I did. I’m planning on buying a few models for my own experimentation,” Ange tucks her textbook into her arm. “I think it’d be great if I could activate some of my projects with only ocular input.” Donavan nods in approval. Bonnie reaches out and grabs the hand Ange isn’t using. 

 

Since Friday, Ange has had to get her bandages changed twice. Her rate of healing isn’t nearly as fast as Kim’s. Angry scabs mean she can’t fully extend her fingers. Bonnie pokes and prods, feeling at them through the gauze. Every touch is painful. From the tilt of Bonnie’s lips, she’s being rougher than necessary. 

 

Angelus doesn’t stop her.

 

“What-” Donavan says with a furrowed brow. “What happened to you?” 

 

I went too far with a genetic experiment. The girl I don’t pine for has a boyfriend. I’m not a good person and I don’t think I will ever be. 

 

“Just an accident. Nothing serious,” Ange says, pulling her hand out of Bonnie’s grasp. Donavan doesn’t look so convinced. In his defense, her entire hand is covered in bandages. In hers, her mom had rewrapped the entire thing before she left for work today (Ann might be a little overprotective). “I’ll be fine in a few more days.” 

 

Bonnie stares at her empty hands for a moment too long before she puts them down at her sides. Quietly, she turns towards the hallway and leads them to her locker. Brick is already there, leaning against the wall. When he sees them, he gives them the kindest smile in the world. Bonnie runs into his arms, expression as bright as stars.

 

Ange lets it all wash over her, water cutting around a rock. Anything else would result in violence.

 

---

 

A lunch tray full of lasagna she won’t eat clatters onto the popular kids’ table. Tara jumps at the sudden noise. Good, serves her right. Bonnie sits in her chair, giving her a smile that is only half fake. As her oldest and bestest friend, Tara gets the kid gloves.

 

For now.

 

“Hi girls,” Bonnie says, nodding to the table when they all chorus out her name. Tara grins at her, but Bonnie knows Tara is assessing. Good girl. 

 

“Hi Bonnie,” Tara says, light but careful. She leans over to rest her chin on Bonnie’s shoulder. It’s a nice feeling, even if Bonnie’s stomach is roiling grumpily. At least Tara isn’t pulling away from her. “You ran off during the party,” she murmurs against Bonnie’s ear. Tara’s breath is warm enough to make it go numb. “I missed you.”

 

“It got kind of crazy,” Bonnie says. After Ange had left, and the night dragged on, the footballers had gotten quite drunk. Paired with their amazing win and... well, Bonnie has a few pictures on her phone that definitely don’t belong in the school yearbook. “I bailed before anyone decided to call the cops.” 

 

According to her network, they had shown up.

 

Tara nods wisely. The movement makes Bonnie’s shoulder bob up and down. “Smart. You missed Tyler trying to pull Jessica.” Tara’s grin is not as sweet as anyone would normally associate her with. “It was a trainwreck. I’ll tell you about it later.”

 

“How’d you get to the party anyway?” Bonnie says, not asking. 

 

“Ange gave me a ride,” Tara replies. She senses the danger and plows right through it. Bonnie can even see some challenge in her eyes. “She’s really strong, y’know,” Tara says, letting her voice drop into a whisper. Teasing. “Have you felt her abs?” 

 

Bonnie has, but she’s not about to tell Tara that. 

 

“They’re, hmmm… abby,” Tara ends with a smile.

 

“What does that even mean?” Bonnie quips, side-eyeing her supposedly bestest friend. 

 

Unfortunately, Tara is smirking. “It means I really got to know them on the ride to the party.” 

 

Bonnie feels one of her eyelids twitch. No matter how many knives she imagines digging into Tara’s pretty face, she remains uncut. “Tara,” Bonnie hisses quietly. She doesn’t want anyone else at the table to hear her. “Keep your hands to yourself.” 

 

It’s almost like Tara expected her to say that. Thoughtfully, Tara tilts her head to the side. “Why not? Angie doesn’t mind it.” 

 

Because she’s mine, Bonnie snarls in her mind. It’s the only thing that comes to her mind. Not something she can say, it doesn’t make sense out loud. Instead, she gives Tara her best withering glare and almost cracks her plastic fork in half when it makes Tara smile. 

 

“Are you jellin’?” Tara asks. Bonnie is just starting to bristle when Tara rests her palm against Bonnie’s stomach and rubs small circles into it. “Don’t worry, Bonnie. I like your tummy too. It’s super cute.”

 

Bonnie’s mind stops working for a moment.

 

She kicks it back into fighting shape like an old crank engine. Tara’s hand is warm enough to feel like fire. “Don’t say tummy, weirdo,” Bonnie manages to say. She stares down at her lasagna. For some reason, her hands are quivering. 

 

Ange drops so suddenly onto Bonnie’s other side, Bonnie jumps in her chair. Tara removes her hand and Bonnie feels cold. 

 

“Hi girls,” Ange says, cheerful. She’s alternating her sight between Bonnie and Tara, picking up on the tension already. “What’s the ‘sitch?” 

 

“Don’t talk like that,” Bonnie snaps. She glares at her shitty meal, then reaches over and grabs the packed lunch Ange had brought from home. Ange drops a heavy hand over the tupperware before Bonnie can pull it in front of her. Bonnie shoots her a frustrated look. First Tara, now Ange. No one wants to cooperate today. 

 

“Gimme,” Bonnie says. Ange purses her lips.

 

“It’s mine.”

 

“Like, sharing is caring, Ange,” Bonnie tugs at the container. “I thought you were supposed to be a good person or something.” 

 

Strangely, Ange starts laughing. Worryingly, it seems a little self-deprecating. The hand trapping Bonnie’s rightful lunch in place lifts. Bonnie takes it without taking her eyes off Ange’s face. Ange is doing that thing where she isn’t letting any emotion show. Nothing but pleasant amusement. 

 

How to approach this?

 

“Give me the lasagna,” Ange says lightly. After a long moment, Bonnie pushes her lunch tray towards her. 

 

“Are you good, Angie?” Tara asks. Bonnie decides to forgive her for all prior transgressions. The expression on Ange’s face doesn’t waver, but Ange cuts her knife into her meal with too much strength. 

 

“It’s no big,” Ange says. Bonnie reaches out and touches her shoulder. Ange stares at the contact. To Bonnie’s relief, her eyes soften. “Seriously, it’s not important.” She places her hand over Bonnie’s and gives it a light squeeze. 

 

Then she gently takes Bonnie’s hand in hers and guides it off her shoulder. 

 

Bonnie feels hollow for a frigid second. Ange smiles. It’s more real this time. Enough to break the curse Bonnie found herself under.

 

“Eat before I decide to take my lunch back,” Ange says.

 

Bonnie narrows her eyes and wraps a protective arm around the tupperware. It’s dumplings today. Dozens and dozens of delicious dumplings. 

 

“Can I have some?” Tara says from Bonnie’s other side. Pointedly, Bonnie slides the container between them and farther from her pouting Angie. Tara lets out an adorable ‘yay’ before helping herself. The two girls spend the lunch period picking away at Ange’s meal. The conversation around the table is buzzing and pleasant. 

 

Bonnie can’t help but notice that Ange doesn’t say a single word the entire time. 

 

---

 

Somehow, Ange slides out of her seat just as Brick shows up. He gives her a grateful, bright smile. Ange returns it with a friendly nod of her own. Bonnie watches Ange throughout the entire process, long enough for her to track Ange’s half circuit around three tables. Bonnie looks away when Ange leans down over Riley’s shoulder and sparks up a conversation. The smile on his face makes Bonnie want to commit a felony. 

 

“Hi Brickie,” Bonnie says sweetly, leaning against his massive shoulder. “I missed you.”

 

Thinking about Riley is infuriating, but it does remind her of something important. Ange has never been on a date before. 

 

“I missed you too!” Brick says. He gives her a kiss on the cheek. Bonnie lets him fuss as she ruminates. 

 

What if Angie makes a fool of herself on her first date with Riley? That would reflect poorly on Bonnie, wouldn’t it? She spent the last two weeks training Ange. 

 

Brick takes a large bite of his lasagna. “So, I was thinking-”

 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full, Brickie,” Bonnie says, gently chastising him. “It’s gross.”

 

“Oh, sorry!” Brick says. Then he swallows. Bonnie hides her grimace. 

 

The best way to help Ange out would be to give her an example to go off of. Ange learns best with data points and thorough research. So, she just needs to find a way to check off all of Ange’s boxes.

 

“Anyway, I was thinking, you and me...” Brick’s eyelids fall half closed at the pleasant thought. “We could go on a date tomorrow night.” 

 

“That sounds nice,” Bonnie says absentmindedly. 

 

A smile plays on her lips. She knows how she’ll get Ange her experience. Bonnie can give her a trial run. All she needs to do is pick out the right outfit, too. 

 

“Great! I’ll pick you up at eight.” 

 

Since Ange is a girl, she’ll need to find a good suit to wear. Bonnie’s never pretended to be a guy before, but it’ll be the only way for Ange to get the proper experience. She sighs in amusement. The things she does for her friends should qualify her for sainthood. 

 

“Thanks, Brickie,” Bonnie tugs at Brick’s arm until he lifts it. Then, she tucks herself against his huge side. Their date will be the perfect time to bring her plan up to Brick. He’s a nice boy, certainly he’d understand. “I can’t wait.” 

Chapter 60: chapter 59

Donavan is walking down the hallways of Middleton High when, suddenly, his feet no longer touch the ground. Experience makes him brace himself. A second later, his back slams against the surface of a cold locker door. Max’s blue eyes and cruel grin greet him. Donavan grits his teeth, the only sign of discomfort. By now, this is old hat. If he points that out, they’ll shove his face in a toilet. 

 

“Hey, Donny,” Max sing-songs. On his right is Keon, opening up a locker door. “Long time no see.”

 

“Mr. Falcon, you know very well my name is Donavan,” Donavan says, grunting when Max tightens the grip on his button up collar. It’s Monday, at two in the afternoon. “You’re behind schedule.”

 

Max actually laughs. Unfortunately, Donavan’s plan to get Max to like him enough to stop this roguery mostly failed last year. It doesn’t stop him from trying. Max finds him amusing enough to not give him purple-nurples like some of Donavan’s other nerd friends. 

 

“Did you miss me?” Max says. “Don’t worry, man.” The click of a locker door opening signals the start of a cold and dark afternoon. “I’ll make up for lost time.” 

 

With immense strength, Max pushes Donavan across the wall until his back falls into the locker. Donavan grips his flip phone tight. Once Max is gone, he’ll be sure to send Ange a text so she can get him out of here-

 

“Hey!” A voice calls out.

 

The locker limits his view. All Donavan can see is Max pause, looking to his side at someone. 

 

“C’mon, Max! Leave him alone.”

 

Surprisingly, instead of squaring up to the order, Max steps back. He has a look of confusion on his face. Donavan, in the recess of the locker, adjusts his glasses so he can watch in fascination. 

 

“What’s the deal, man?” Max says. Donavan can hear Keon echo the sentiment. “We’re just having a little fun.” 

 

“That doesn’t look very fun,” the mystery man says. “It looks mean.”

 

From the tilt of Max’s head, Donavan’s savior must be much taller than him. Donavan frowns in thought. He isn’t friends with anyone that tall.

 

“That’s kind of the point,” Max quips. But he steps back and out of Donavan’s view, crossing his arms.

 

“Bro,” the voice sounds disappointed. “We gotta spread goodness. The world is mean enough.” Heavy steps come closer.

 

Donavan feels his jaw drop when he sees who came to his aid.

 

Brick Flagg is looking at him. He’s so massively huge, he has to bend down a quarter of the way to do it. The smile he gives Donavan is open and kind, maybe a bit like a puppy. Donavan blinks at him a few times. What the hell is he doing sticking up for someone like Donavan?

 

“Hey, you good?” Brick asks him. A gigantic hand reaches an open palm into the locker. Donavan stares at it, deciding on if he should take it or not. He must take too long, because Brick ends up just grabbing the front of his shirt and pulling him out with one arm. Easily. 

 

For the second time in as many minutes, Donavan finds his feet off of the ground.

 

“This guy’s off limits, kay?” Brick looks at the other two boys, setting Donavan on the ground as if he were nothing more than a pillow full of feathers. Max and Keon share a glance. Brick watches them with his goofy grin until Max shrugs and Keon sighs.

 

“Sure, man,” Max says. He lifts his hands and rests them behind his head. “Just ‘cause you asked.” As he leaves, Keon gives Brick a light punch on the shoulder that would have knocked Donavan off his feet. Brick doesn’t even shift. He watches them go happily then turns around to grin at Donavan.

 

“I’m sorry about those guys,” Brick says. His hand is as big as Donavan’s head, and it dwarfs Donavan’s shoulder when Brick rests it there. Donavan stares at it with wide eyes. “Lemme know if they bother you again.”

 

“Oh,” Donavan says smartly. Then he coughs into his fist. “Er… Yes, thank you Mr. Flagg.” Curiosity is getting the better of him. He can’t stop himself. “Not that I’m not grateful, but, erm… Why did you step in?”

 

“Step in?” Brick looks down and lifts the sole of his shoes, one after the other. “I didn’t step into anything.” That seems to please the boy. “I stepped in dog shit once. That was gross.” 

 

Donavan needs a moment to catch up to the subject change. He feels the corner of his lip twitch upwards. “That is always an awful experience, yes. Why did you stop Max and Keon from throwing me into a locker?”

 

“You’re Bonnie’s friend, aren’t ya?” Brick looks up from his shoes to give Donavan a silly smile. “Bonnie’s friends are my friends. So, like, I can’t let anyone throw you around.”

 

They aren’t friends, but Donavan can understand why Brick would assume that. Every morning, Ange has accompanied Bonnie to her locker. Donavan made a point to accompany Ange. Bonnie isn’t going to steal one of his best friends just because she’s beautiful and Ange is gay. Very gay, from observations. Very, very gay.

 

“Thank you, Mr. Flagg. I appreciate it.” 

 

“Shucks!” Brick laughs, clapping Donavan on his back. He almost tips completely forward from the force of it. “It’s all good, bro. Us boys gotta stick together, right?” 

 

After Donavan recovers from having all the wind knocked out of his lungs, he looks up at Brick’s wide smile and returns it with his own, more subdued smile. “Obviously. That’s the, ah, ‘bro code’, is it not?” To his amusement, Brick gives him a serious nod. Well, the bro code is serious business, probably. 

 

“What’s your next class?” Brick says. The hallways are pretty much empty by now. Only those brave enough to skip are slinking around. “I’ll walk you.”

 

Donavan hikes his oversized backpack onto his shoulders. “American History.” It’s on the other end of the school. He starts walking and Brick easily keeps pace with him. Actually, he’s tall enough that he outpaces Donavan. Every few steps he has to pause and wait for Donavan to catch up. Donavan watches the behavior with interest. 

 

When they reach the door leading to his class, Donavan turns to his companion. Physical affection isn’t something he’s necessarily inclined towards, but from what he’s observed, Brick seems to enjoy it. Donavan reaches out and pats Brick on the back. Brick flashes him a goofy grin. 

 

“See you around, man,” Brick says.

 

Donavan places his hand on the doorknob and nods goodbye. “Until then, Mr- hmm.” That doesn’t feel right. Donavan grins up at his savior.  

 

“Until then, Brick.” 

 

---

 

On Tuesday, at one in the morning, the Kimmunicator goes off. Kim springs into action. She lands on the floor, grabs her Kimmunicator, and hustles towards her mission gear. 

 

“Go, Wade.”

 

Wade, ever present at his desk, doesn’t seem tired at all. Likely, his sleep schedule is a ferocious mess. Kim is pretty sure his room doesn’t even have windows installed. That’s probably a building code violation.  

 

“Drakken is super busy lately,” Wade says, explaining everything. Kim can’t stop the exasperated sigh that slides out of her lips. It lasts a good five seconds. Wade nods in solidarity. “Bring a swimsuit. He’s got a bunch of mechanical engineers held hostage in Hawai’i. Your ride is in five, and your ETA is four hours.”

 

“Ten-four,” Kim says grumpily. Drakken meant Shego and... well she knew this song and dance already. What is even more frustrating is the likely fact that Drakken is so active because…

 

Kim looks at the stairway to their attic bedroom. The object of her very thoughts walks up each step with no noise. That makes a little pride swell in Kim’s breast. It doesn’t do anything to curb her annoyance. When she notices that Kim is glaring, Ange, mid-yawn, stops dead in her tracks.

 

“...Uhm, I can explain,” Ange mumbles out. She glances at her easily breakable alarm clock on the long desk. It’s way past her bed time. “I got distracted weaving your suit out of the fibers from that luxnull plant I made a while ago - Hey,” Ange says, shaking her head back and forth. “You can’t rat me out! You’re up too! Go to bed.”

 

Wordlessly, Kim holds up the Kimmunicator. It has a highly reinforced chassis made from a steel ceramic blend. It doesn’t stop Kim from trying to crush it in her grip when Ange visibly brightens.

 

“Is it Dr. Drakken? Oh my gosh, please say yes! I miss him. What’s he up to?”

 

“He has hostages, Ange.”

 

Ange opens her mouth. Then she closes her mouth. Then she scuffs her foot into the floor, peaking sheepishly at Kim through her lashes. 

 

“...That sounds kinda bad,” Ange finally mumbles.

 

“Kinda?” Kim growls out. 

 

Ange scampers into the closet to gather their mission gear and avoid Kim’s glare. The sound of her pulling pants out of a drawer and shirts off their hangers mollifies Kim just a tiny bit. Only a tiny bit.

 

“Angie,” Kim says, crossing her arms. Quickly, she uncrosses them to catch the utility belt Ange throws her way. “What are you going to do if Drakken offers you another internship?” 

 

“Negotiate for higher pay and really good medical-”

“Now is not the time for jokes!” Kim pulls her pajama top off her head, steps closer to the closet, and beans Ange in the back of the head with it. Ange jumps in surprise, which finally makes Kim smile. If it’s more like a smirk, Ange is too busy freeing herself from a shirt to confirm.

 

“Kim, I’m not joking. I think there are some benefits to taking up his offer.”

 

“Enlighten me.”

Ange turns around and chucks a pair of cargo pants at Kim’s face as fast as she can. Kim casually lifts her hand and catches it midair. “I would be able to give you warning ahead of time if he decides to hold the world hostage.” 

 

Kim pauses to think about it. That actually is a good point. She pulls her pajama bottoms off to put her cargos on before she thinks of a good rebuttal. “You’d also be helping him build his doomsday devices.”

 

“Well, there’s a lot to learn! And, I could build a more accurate psychological profile for him. Don’t you want to know what makes the guy tick?” 

 

“No,” Kim says flatly. “I do not. Also, you didn’t even offer to sabotage his deathrays for me!”

 

Ange gasps, clutching her chest. “He’d be paying me, Kim! That’s, like, probably illegal!”

 

“You would be helping a mad man take over the world!” When Ange starts to pout, Kim knows she won. She tilts her chin upwards victoriously. “So, when Drakken offers you an internship, what are you going to say?”

 

“...No,” Ange says, staring at the floor with wet puppy dog eyes. Kim rolls her own. 

 

“Good girl-”

 

“Don’t call me that,” Ange says very quickly. Kim blinks in surprise, staring at Ange with wide eyes. Ange is staring at her in much the same way. Slowly, it starts dawning on Kim.

 

“EW! Ew! Ange- Gross! Augh, what the heck? Why - who - ewewewew!” 

 

“Bonnie,” Ange answers the fragmented question. Both of them, really. Kim recoils in disgust. After a beat, Ange shrugs in defeat. “And Tara.”

 

“Ange - what?” 

 

“...Do you really want to know?” 

 

No. No she does not.

 

---

 

On the lovely island of Maui, a bunker built into the side of a volcano contains the following: five mechanical engineers - hands and feet bound to heavy steel chairs, a lot of henchmen - just hanging around, one mad scientist - cowering, and one of the most dangerous people in the world - glaring.

 

Shego keeps Drakken frozen in place with her scowl alone. Slowly, she crosses one strong arm over the other. “Now, what are you going to do if Dorkius Maximus crashes the party?”

 

Drakken, hunched over with rabbit-fear and frozen in place, dares to ask a question. “Dorkius Maximus?”

 

“Ange, you nitwit!” Shego snarls out. Drakken flinches at the tone.

 

“That’s not a very nice thing to call me, Shego!” Drakken says, looking genuinely a little sad. Shego can’t bring herself to care. Actually, it kind of makes her happy. “Or Ange,” he adds after a moment of thought. 

 

“Not the point, Dr D.”

 

“I just think it’s important to address these things-”

Shego lets her hands burst into electric green light.

 

“I will not be offering her an internship,” Drakken says very quickly. To his relief, Shego lets her plasma go out in a puff of smoke. 

 

Shego gives him one last glare before she makes her way to the comfiest look seat in the room. It also happens to be the most dangerous, too. With minimal effort, she vaults upwards ten entire feet. Shego grabs the rung of a ladder and climbs the rest of the way. 

 

From her chosen spot, she can see the entire lair floor (and the ceiling, too). In front of her is a control column and a big, dangerous looking red button. Pressing this button won’t self-destruct the bunker. It would just immediately incinerate a roughly human shaped object to ash. Shego leans back in the upholstered chair, closing her eyes. 

 

Kim will be here soon. Shego wants to be in top form when that happens. 

 

She needs to teach that girl a lesson.

Chapter 61: Chapter 60

The first person to enter the scene is Ange. She drops out of the ceiling and lands right in front of the five mechanical engineers. She is so quiet, the only reason Shego notices is because Ange likes to wear a bright red bolero jacket on her missions. And she’s disrupted the air flow of the room, but that’s an advanced stealth-detection technique not even Kim knows about. Shego doesn’t intend to teach it to her.

 

Before the engineers can say anything, Ange smiles at them and places a finger to her lips. She leans in close, probably to say something comforting and starts untying them. Shego doesn’t really care. Ange is a thorn in her side at best.

 

The second is Ron. He falls out of the hole Ange dropped out of. Ange notices just in time, and holds out two arms to catch him in a bridal carry. An impressive display of strength for a civilian, Tuesday brunch for anyone in this business. 

 

Ron gives her a goofy grin. Ange sets him down and checks to make sure that annoying mole rat thing is okay. After a beat, the boy and rat scamper off to go look for a self-destruct button. 

 

That, Shego does care about. She's twenty feet up in the air, resting her feet lazily on the dashboard of the death ray. It takes a few snaps to get the attention of the henchmen. When she does finally capture it, she sends them a glare that makes them shiver. Then she points in the direction Ron ran off to. 

 

The boys seem relieved to be sent in that direction, away from her. She’s not offended. She’s glad they’re away from her too.

 

Green eyes scan the floor and find nothing. Shego switches to the ceiling - 

 

There.

 

An arc of an electric blue laser cuts a circle into an air vent. The only sound it makes is a low hum that blends in seamlessly with the noise of the air conditioning. How clever. 

 

Shego reaches towards her control column. Underneath her, the death ray comes to life. The lights in the facility flicker as power gets diverted into the cannon. As the gun starts to heat up, three things happen at the exact same time. 

 

Kim, the third player to the scene, swings herself through her self made entrance. Absent-mindedly, Shego notices that Kim has centered herself over Drakken, who is too busy downloading everything off of a giant computer thing that Shego doesn’t care about to notice. That kind of initiative would get her far in life, if Shego wasn’t about to turn her into a cute little pile of dust. 

 

Ange, noticing the movement of the long cannon, looks up with analytical eyes. Almost, but not quite as fast as Kim, she’s able to piece together the context of everything in only a second and a half. She reaches behind her into her utility belt.   

 

Shego lines the cannon up to the spot just below Kim’s current location and reaches for the big red incinerator button. Only instinct honed from years and years of combat and thievery makes her hesitate. 

 

A knife slices through the air where her hand would have been. It embeds itself into the metal chassis of the death ray. Shego stares at it in mild surprise before she whips her head around towards the origin. Ange is crouched down, watching her with eyes colder than any villain Shego has ever met. She’s met a lot of them. 

 

Black lipstick lips pull upwards, exposing sharp canines. Electric green eyes promise death. Ange flinches backwards like a rabbit. Her legs shift back and forth underneath her, preparing for a sprint.

 

Unfortunately, Shego doesn’t get the chance to incinerate her. The only warning she gets is the sound of a grappling hook wrapping around a pole behind her. Shego has just enough time to lift her arms up. It saves her head from Kim’s knee. 

 

With a startled yelp, Shego is expelled from the seat of the death ray.

 

She has twenty feet of open air to land on two feet. That’s child’s play. As she rotates herself to land safely, she’s already scanning above her for Kim. A wicked smile graces her face when she finds her. Kim is glaring down at her from the metal chassis. 

 

Clawed hands heat up to pleasant burning. Electrons rip apart from their atoms. Plasma engulfs Shego’s palms. She fires off two shots as her feet land on the ground. Kim leaps forward to dodge them, straight into open air. With the same ease as Shego a moment before, she twists until her feet face the ground. 

 

Lesson time.

 

Shego jumps backwards. A second later, Kim’s foot slams into the spot she had been occupying. Shego’s hands are already moving as Kim tilts her hips upwards. She absorbs the first front kick with one hand, the second reaches up along Kim’s leg and hooks against the leather strap of her thigh pouch. She’s not as strong as Hego, but the plasma mutated her. She’s far stronger than a human should be. Shego sets her feet, swivels her entire torso and throws Kim into a wall. 

 

The red head slams into it, grunting in pain. It’s the only reaction before she leaps back towards Shego, one fist clenched, the other hand an open palm. 

 

Kim throws a punch. As Shego lifts her arm to block it, Kim bends her own. Her fist pushes Shego’s hand to the side, her elbow jabs towards Shego’s exposed neck. Shego’s almost pleased with the ruthless move. Her second hand grabs onto Kim’s forearm, stopping the movement in its tracks.

 

Kim’s open palm strikes an unprotected sternum. Shego lets out a gasp of pain. 

 

Unwillingly, one of her knees buckle underneath her. Before it hits the ground, Shego finds her strength. She turns her fall into a dip, then bursts her leg forward and hurls her shin into Kim’s side. The girl crashes into the same wall as earlier. Her recovery is a millisecond slower this time. 

 

Satisfaction curls against Shego’s breast. When Kim looks at her, she’s smirking. It’s a cruel and unfeeling expression. Kim snarls. Behind it is heartbreak, behind that is pining. It just won’t do.

 

Shego doesn’t care about her that way. She never will.

 

A green gloved fist slams into a black gloved palm. Four knuckles crack. “Come on, Princess,” Shego spits out. Kim doesn’t flinch, but they both know she wants to. “Let's see if you can keep up with me today.” 

 

Her feet don’t make noise when she steps forward. Kim’s don't either. Two of the most dangerous people in the world collide. Together, they perform a violent dance. Today, it’s more brutal than it has ever been before.

 

---

 

“Hi, Dr. Drakken,” Ange says.

 

Five mechanical engineers sit on heavy steel chairs. They’re no longer tied up, but Ange has instructed them to stay put until someone from team Possible can safely guide them out. It will likely be Ron. The moment Drakken realized she was here, Ange had his attention.

 

“What’cha working on?”

 

“Ange, my dear! How nice to see you,” Dr. Drakken says, sweeping his hand towards the computer he’s been hunched over. “I’ve been researching better ways to power my devices. Then I thought, why not see if anyone else has come up with solutions.” He lets out a self satisfied puff of air. “And my genius plan worked. These fellows were kind enough to lend me their research on thermal engineering.”

 

“We are not!” One of the scientists says. Then promptly shuts up when Drakken points a ray gun at them. The other four fall in line nervously. 

 

“Uh, it’s research on how to pull magma up from below the earth’s crust,” another scientist says. A pretty woman with thick glasses and a messy ponytail. Ange is sure to smile at her for being so helpful. “That way thermal power could be used anywhere around the world, in theory.” 

 

“That is fascinating stuff,” Ange says, looking between her, Dr. Drakken, and the computer. “Wouldn’t it be better to focus on nuclear power, though? There are ways to make it completely stable if you’re not an idiot.”

 

“Yes, but most people who need power are idiots,” the lady quips. Ange bites her lip. Drakken nods in agreement, not realizing he’s also an idiot. 

 

“I see your point.” Ange walks over to the computer, glancing at the data flickering across the screen. All those datasets are mesmerizing. From beside her, Drakken watches her observations. 

 

“Say,” he says, folding his hands behind his back. “I was wondering if you gave my proposal any more thought.” 

 

Not looking away from the screen (there’s so much to memorize), Ange nods. “I have.” 

 

Drakken stares at her hopefully.

 

“I can’t.”

 

His face drops. Somehow, one of the most unstable minds in the world manages to pull off the kicked puppy look. Ange coos, reaches over, and pats him on the shoulder. 

 

“It just isn’t meant to be, Dr. Drakken. You’re an evil genius. I’m just a genius.” 

 

“I could up the pay! And- and throw in dental and vision.”

 

Ange sighs ruefully. It’s tempting. It’s very tempting. Unfortunately, if she says yes, Kim will be mad at her. That alone cancels out any scientific benefit she’d get from this.

 

When his words don’t seem to sway Ange, he stomps his feet and yells, “Why don’t you want to be my intern?!” It’s loud enough that the sound of fighting temporarily stops. Ange is pretty sure she hears Shego say ‘time out’. Just to be safe, she steps several steps away from Drakken. 

 

It turns out to be a smart decision. Seconds later, Shego arcs through the air and lands gracefully on top of the giant computer. Shego gives her a stare that makes the flight part of her fight or flight instincts activate. Ange has to force herself to stay in place. Maybe if she doesn’t move, Shego will forget she’s there.

 

“Dr. D?” Shego says, not looking away from Ange. Drakken’s eyes ping-pong between the two girls. 

 

“Shego! Perfect timing. Please strong arm Ange into being my intern-” Ange thinks that phrasing is a little worrying.

 

“DR. D!” Shego roars, ripping her sight off of Ange and towards her employer. “What did we just talk about?!” 

 

Carefully, Dr. Drakken’s face goes blank. “...Right now? Shego, that’s a silly question. We’re currently having the conversation as we speak- EEK!” He doubles over. A bolt of plasma whizzes past his head.

 

“Why don’t you try that again, doc.” On top of the computer, Shego is coiled like a large cat ready to spring on its prey. She looks like she’s ready to sink her teeth into Drakken’s neck. “What did you tell me before team goody-goody showed up?”

 

“...But Shego-” 

 

Shego actually growls. Ange looks away. If anyone finds out she thought that was hot, she’d throw herself off a cliff. Or Kim would. There would be rocks at the bottom. 

 

“I told you I wouldn’t ask Ange to be my intern!” Drakken grumbles through clenched teeth. 

 

“And what were you doing?”

 

“Asking Ange to be my intern,” Dr. Drakken says. He waves both of his hands around defensively. “But, Shego, you must understand! I’m a villain! You can’t take me at my word.” Shego pauses, because it’s actually kind of a good point.

 

“I thought you said you were trustworthy,” Ange says. The smile she gives Drakken is both innocent and piercing. She’s pretty sure she sees Dr. Drakken start to sweat. She’s also pretty sure Shego’s lip twitches upwards once, but Ange refuses to infer anything about Shego. She’ll be forced to throw herself off a cliff if she looks at Shego anymore right now.

 

Drakken thinks quickly. His face lights up when he finds the right words. “Ange- well, you see, as a scientist, I am the most trustworthy person in the world!” Ange nods along promptingly. “As a.. ah… person, I am a very bad man.” He says it like he’s really selling his internship idea. 

 

Ange can’t blame him. She’s a bad person too. 

 

“I think I understand,” Ange says. That makes Drakken sigh with relief. “The answer is still no.”

 

“Thank you!” Shego says. They both ignore the offended whine Drakken gives Ange. “There we go. Case closed, shelved, and forgotten. Can we go back to taking over the world now?”

 

“You can if you want,” Kim says. She’s on the other side of the base, leaning against a wall and smirking. Ange notices that all five scientists are no longer on their chairs. In the distance is the sound of helicopters and sirens. “I think you’ll find that really hard to do from a prison cell.”

 

“Fuck!” Shego says. 

 

Ange, Drakken, and Kim all glare at her. At the exact same time, they all say, “Language!” so vehemently Shego looks disorientated. She holds her palms to the sky, shaking her head in disbelief. 

 

“You know what,” she says, glaring at Ange until Ange starts walking backwards cautiously. Then she glares at Drakken until he flinches. “I’m getting out of here.” With a powerful kick of her legs, she flips up and backwards. Not looking, she reaches behind her and grabs a ladder rung leading to the chassis of the death ray. “Try and keep up. Or I’ll break you out of prison in a few. Either or.” 

 

“Shego!” Dr. Drakken gasps, trying to give chase. He’s not very good at it. Shego’s already made it to the top of the machine. “You can’t leave me! I pay you!” 

 

“Quiet, Dr. D. I’m escapin’ here.” She grabs the top edge of the chassis, swinging herself inside and onto the seat. Kim pulls her grapple out and fires. As she does, the long cannon of the death ray starts to move upwards towards the ceiling. 

 

“But, Shego!” Drakken makes it to the bottom rung of the ladder. Kim’s grapple snags onto one of the polearms of the death ray. Shego adjusts the cannon just so, leans out of the chassis, and touches her finger against the cable of Kim’s grapple. Kim has enough time to widen her eyes as Shego slices through the thick metal cable like butter. 

 

Suddenly, Kim is in freefall. Shego’s lightning green eyes track her descent. Kim watches them with a frown, then spirals herself until she’s feet first- oh. It makes sense why Shego cut her grapple now.

 

Dr. Drakken is clambering up the ladder. He doesn’t see the coming danger. Kim does, and she aims her foot right for his face. 

 

“You have to wait for me-AH!” Drakken says very smartly. Then he says, “Oof!” as he hits the floor. Then he says, “Owie, ouchie,” and curls up into a ball. 

 

Ange is pretty certain there are tears in his eyes. 

 

Kim lands safely over him, whipping her head around just in time to watch. The metal of the long cannon gun starts to heat. In the span of a few seconds, its color goes from grey, to red, to orange, then yellow, then white . An awful shriek fills the air, so loud Ange has to cover her ears. 

 

It fires.

 

The world goes white. The room heats up several degrees. The entire volcano shakes. A beam of magma powered energy carves through a five foot layer of concrete, then pierces through the atmosphere of earth itself. The death beam dissipates the moment Shego lets go of the trigger. 

 

Silence.

 

When it feels safe to, Ange opens her eyes. Shego is gone. Kim is grimacing at a three foot wide hole of melted concrete. A beautiful full moon shines silver light into the entire room. Dr. Drakken is whimpering on the floor. From the other side of the room, a door opens and Ron comes sprinting in. Behind him are a gaggle of cops and military men. 

 

“Don’t worry, KP!” he yells. Sweat is beading down his head. He must have been running the entire time, first from henchmen, then guiding back the authorities. That boy has some amazing stamina. “I brought help!”

 

“Thanks, Ron,” Kim says dryly. She hasn’t taken her sight off the open sky. 

 

Ange can’t blame her. Shego is on the other side of that ceiling, somewhere. Also, it’s a gorgeous night. 

 

Cops cuff one of the smartest minds in the world. Ange waves goodbye to Drakken as he’s dragged off to prison. There’s a huge purple bruise forming on his blue face. He gives her a wet eyed and pleading stare that Ange can only shrug at. Maybe if she was his intern, she’d help. Alas…

 

There’s something more important to do. Ange walks over to Kim. Now that all the action is done with, she’s able to get a good look at her elder sister. There’s a cut on her lip. A part of her compression turtleneck shirt has been sliced through, exposing a wound and pale skin. From the way she’s standing, Kim has some sort of leg injury. Shego was especially rough with her today. 

 

Quietly, Ange reaches down and takes Kim’s hand. Kim doesn’t take her eyes off the sky. Ange watches her for a few more moments, then turns her head to admire the moonlight and warm tropical air. They don’t say a word, but Ange gives Kim’s hand a squeeze. It takes a long time for Kim to squeeze it back. 

 

That’s just fine. She’s a patient girl.

 

Ange could wait for forever if she had to. 

Chapter 62: Chapter 61

The plane ride home takes four hours. Ron sleeps through it. Kim spends it leaning against Ange’s shoulder, staring at the opposite wall. Eventually, Ange wraps a warm arm around her shoulder and presses a kiss against her forehead. 

 

“I’ll wake you up when we get there,” Ange murmurs. Usually, that’s Kim’s job, but…

 

Being awake means thinking about Shego. Being awake means dealing with a sore lip and a bruised side and a leg with a limp. It means dealing with a heart that hurts too much. 

 

Kim closes her eyes and, just this once, lets Ange take charge.

 

---

 

When Bonnie arrives at Ange’s locker, Ange is carrying the largest cup of coffee she’s ever seen. She’s there just in time to see Ange press the lid to her lips and start chugging. 

 

Bonnie walks up beside her and leans against a locker, watching. Ange’s throat bobs up and down with each gulp. The liquid is steaming hot. Ange doesn’t seem to mind. Though, it might be safer to suspect that Ange enjoys it. From all that Bonnie has observed about her, she suspects that Angie enjoys pain. It’s kind of hot. 

 

Turquoise eyes widen ever so slightly. Where had that come from?

 

Before she can come up with any justifications, Ange has finished her entire coffee. She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, then turns around and gives Bonnie a tired smile. 

 

“Hi Bonnie,” Ange says. Her voice is soft. “Good morning.” 

 

“Morning,” Bonnie replies, slowly looking Ange up and down. She’s wearing some joggers, a black zip up and a wrinkled, fitted t-shirt underneath. Her hair is messier than usual. It makes Bonnie itch to grab the hairbrush stowed away in her locker. 

 

“Did you not sleep well?” Bonnie asks. Ange looks dead on her feet.

 

“Oh,” Ange sighs ruefully. “It’s that obvious, huh. Just a mission that kept me up all night. No big.” Bonnie’s eyes narrow, which Ange obviously catches. Quickly, she changes the subject. “Do you have anything fun planned tonight?”

 

She’ll let Ange off the hook for now.

 

“I have a date tonight,” Bonnie says with a light smile. Brick has a reservation for them at The Velvet Bone, a steakhouse on the nice side of town. Not Bonnie’s usual fare, but as a football jock, Brick needs his protein. It’s also a good excuse to wear one of her favorite dresses.

 

When Ange doesn’t react for a second too long, Bonnie starts paying attention. It’s not quick enough. Ange is already giving her a delighted hum.

 

“Lucky you,” Ange murmurs. Her eyes look tired.

 

Could she be jealous? Technically, this is her second date with Brick, though the first happened before they were even an item. They’ve both been to really nice places. Brick got a hefty allowance from his mom. As far as she’s aware, Ange hasn’t been on any dates with Riley. That bastard should treat her better.

 

Bonnie reaches over and rubs her arm. Maybe she squeezes Ange’s bicep, maybe she doesn’t. 

 

“Don’t worry, Angie,” Bonnie says, feeling her heart warm. She should be considered a saint for how far she’s willing to go for Ange. “I’ll make sure you get a good experience too.” 

 

“Huh?” Ange says, incredibly intelligent. She blinks at Bonnie a few times, slowly looking more and more confused. The gears in Ange’s brain are finally firing up to full steam. Maybe the coffee is starting to hit. “What- what - uh - what does that mean?” 

 

Bonnie gives her a conspiratorial grin. She opens her mouth to elaborate when Donavan walks up, interrupting their time together. Bonnie tries her best not to glare at him. Maybe it works, maybe it doesn’t. 

 

“Good morning, Angelus,” Donavan says, giving Bonnie a withering look. It probably didn’t work. 

 

Ange is still staring in confusion. She doesn’t look away from Bonnie when she gives him his greeting of, “Good morning, Donavan.” Good. Bonnie likes being stared at. She turns on her heel and heads towards her locker to grab her textbook. Donavan and Ange follow a beat behind her. To Bonnie’s smug satisfaction, Ange doesn’t respond to any of Donavan’s prompting subjects. Not even when he brings up those overlay contact lenses from yesterday. 

 

Right now, she must be all Ange can think about. Bonnie bites her lip so she doesn’t start giggling. It wouldn’t do for the queen of the school to walk around laughing like a mad man, even if she does feel really giddy for some reason. 

 

---

 

“Do you need a ride home, Donavan?” Ange asks. It’s four thirty in the afternoon, and they’ve just finished their matheletes practice. She smothers a yawn through will power alone. It’s approaching hour forty one of no sleep and it’s wearing her down. That doesn’t mean she isn’t going to help out one of her closest friends. 

 

Said closest friend is at the whiteboard, erasing all of the notes and calculations they did this session.

 

“No thank you,” Donavan says once he’s finally done. “Even if I needed one, I wouldn’t take it from you.” He sets the eraser down and turns to look at her. “You’re too tired to function right now.”

 

Blunt as always, that Donavan is.

 

Ange grins sheepishly. “I have a few more hours in me.”

 

Donavan snorts, then folds his hands over his chest and leans against the wall. The movement echoes Bonnie so much Ange raises her eyebrows. So even he could pick up habits from her, despite their apparent dislike. “What kept you up last night?” 

 

“A mission. It’s really no big-”

“Was it search and rescue, or a Drakken mission?” Donavan asks. Ange blinks in surprise. Is he keeping track of them? It wouldn’t surprise her if he was.

 

“We went to stop Dr. Drakken,” Ange says, thoughtfully eyeing him. “He wanted to steal some research. We were able to send him to prison, but Shego got away.” 

 

“No death rays were involved this time?” 

 

Just what was her boy up to? Ange watches him long enough that he shifts uncomfortably. “There was one,” Ange finally says, deciding to answer. “The ray was powered by magma. It was incredibly intense when it went off.” The technology actually inspired some new ideas to work on. The research she’d managed to memorize was especially helpful, though she wasn’t necessarily going to use it for powering her own experiments.

 

(She already has a mini nuclear generator that does that. )

 

“They shot at you?” Donavan asks. There’s worry in the question. How sweet. 

 

Ange shakes her head, trying to reassure him. “No, not this time. Usually, they try and shoot Kim anyway.” It doesn’t seem to work. 

 

Despite his reservations, Donava continues. “What happens after you stop the villain?”

 

“... Usually they go to prison. Or they escape. Or they go to prison and then escape.” 

 

“That doesn’t sound very efficient,” Donavan says, dry as a desert. 

 

Ange laughs. “It really isn’t, no. But I’m not gonna mess with Kim’s favorite hobby.” After she puts her backpack on, she tilts her head to the side and watches. “Any reason you’re so intrigued?” 

 

“Scientific curiosity,” Donavan says, stone-faced. Lying. Ange knows he’s lying. From the way he hunches over and clutches his backpack straps, Donavan knows she knows too. Her scientific curiosity itches to figure out why. She could probably bully it out of him…

 

No. Let him keep his secrets. Ange respects him too much to pry. 

 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Donavan,” Ange finally says. She turns to go.

 

“Wait.”

Ange stops, glancing over her shoulder. Donavan is chewing the inside of his cheek.

 

“I heard that Brick was taking Bonnie on a date tonight,” he says. Ange feels something dark and cold in her heart coil tight. “Are you… alright?”

 

Why did he have to ask her that?

 

Angelus puts on her warmest smile, adopts her softest eyes. She stands straight and turns fully towards him. The change bewilders Donavan.

 

“Why wouldn’t I be?” Ange says, tone as light as a summer breeze. She sees him lean his neck back, confusion and assessment all in one move. “What those two do in my free time isn’t my business.” She shrugs casually. “As long as Brick treats her well, and he seems to be doing just that, I have no objections.” 

 

Before Donavan can reply, Ange faces away from him. It helps quell the urge to run her fist through a wall. “Later, Donavan,” Ange says. “I should go home and get some sleep.”

 

She leaves, not waiting for Donavan’s goodbye. She really should go home and sleep.

 

Instead, she gets on her bike, points it in a random direction, and starts pedaling. And pedaling, pedaling, pedaling.  Pedaling until sweat drips down her face and her shirt sticks to her skin. The sun is about to go down when she stops somewhere on an unfamiliar street in an unfamiliar part of town. Ange looks around. It’s not the nicest place in the world.

 

Never in her life has she participated in a fight. Just this once, she wishes someone would challenge her. Right here and now. 

 

Just this once.

 

Nobody comes. Ange watches the sky turn pink and the clouds catch fire. She watches the entire show, until the sun finishes setting and the world turns dark. The air chills her skin. Wind tugs at her hair. Ange pushes off the cement and turns her bike towards home. 

 

The ride home is a struggle. Her legs ache from exertion, so she spends it in her head. Maybe that’s a mistake. Bonnie had told her once that she talked too much. Ange feels her lips twist into a mimic of a smile. If Bonnie could hear her thoughts, she’d probably go as insane as Ange feels. Non-stop noise, tangents on tangents. Plans and lists and schemes in open file drawers, drawn out and ready to be redrawn again. 

 

How many times could Ange think about Bonnie in a day? Maybe last week she would have kept track of that. Today, she crumples that thought like a piece of paper and leaves it behind her on an unfamiliar street. Let the wind have it. 

 

Ange feels her shoulders slump, leaden heavy. She stares ahead of her with unseeing eyes, relying on instinct and reflex to guide her home. She’s come to a conclusion. It’s one that makes her heart ache with awful sincerity. 

 

It’s time to let go. 

 

She needs to let go.

 

---

 

The Velvet Bone is smokey and dark, with tall ceilings and a view into the kitchen that’s obscured by a long gas fireplace. The booth Bonnie sits in is covered in dark leather, which is a good choice. If they’d covered the place in velvet, Bonnie would have gagged at the kitschiness of it. 

 

She sips at her drink, watching her man cut large pieces of steak into cubes. Brick eats like a beast, with giant, open mouthed bites. She’s working on it. 

 

In the darkness of this place, it’s hard to see the details of a person. Every few bites, Brick looks up and gives her a smile bright enough to pierce through it. Bonnie is sure the subtle smile she gives back is lost somewhere along the way. 

 

“Hey, Bonnie,” Brick says, after (thankfully) swallowing his next bite. “Wanna catch a movie after this? I heard that Cukillers, Attack of the Vegetable People is pretty good.”

 

“I’ve seen it already,” Bonnie says, looking down at her pear and port reduction salad. It’s delicious, but she’s not that hungry right now. In fact, she’s ever so slightly nervous. “It was decent. But I’d be down for a movie.” 

 

“Cool!” 

 

Brick looks back down, stabs another piece of meat onto his fork and continues his consumption. Bonnie gives him a bit of time, then sighs. Her man wasn’t very good at conversation. She’s working on that too, and she has the perfect conversation starter. 

 

“Brickie,” Bonnie says, drawing out the name. He looks back up, still chewing. “I was thinking about something, and I was wondering if we could talk about it.” To her confusion, his eyes widen in alarm.

 

He swallows quickly. A little too quickly, because he starts coughing loudly over the low buzz of conversation. 

 

“Are you breaking up with me?!” he yells after he recovers.

 

Bonnie grimaces when people start looking at them. “No, of course not,” she hisses, leaning over to poke his hand. “Quiet down, alright? You’re causing a scene.” He sighs in relief and falls back into his part of the booth. He’s so massive, it lets out a puff of air.

 

“Sorry,” he says happily. “That last girl that said that to me dumped me.” 

 

Not dating Brick. Bonnie toys with the concept, then dismisses it. He’s a genuinely good boy, plus the hottest guy in school. There’s no way she’s letting him go so soon. “I’m not going to dump you.” Bonnie rolls her eyes. “I just wanted to talk to you about this idea I had. It’s about Angie.”

 

“Oh,” Brick says, nodding happily. Then a thought pops into his head and his eyes go very wide. “Wow, okay. I’m down if you are.” 

 

“What?” 

 

“I bet it’d be a lot of fun,” Brick almost drawls out his words. Bonnie’s mouth falls open in her befuddlement. 

 

“Brick, what are you talking about?” 

 

“A threesome?” Brick says innocently, leaving her reeling. 

 

Bonnie thinks about having sex with Ange. It leaves her breathless and hot all over, like someone has just pressed her backwards into the fire of a blacksmith’s furnace. Then she thinks about Brick touching her like that and almost snarls. 

 

“No!” she hisses, glaring hard enough that Brick scoots backwards as far as he can. “No, that is not happening!” 

 

Brick holds his hands up in surrender. “Okay, alright,” he says quickly. When Bonnie’s glare lightens up a bit, he starts to relax. He goes to take a sip of his water. “Sorry, I, uh, what did you want to say, then?” 

 

“I want to ask her out on a date,” Bonnie says after a moment of silence. 

 

Brick spits water all over the table. Bonnie’s jaw drops. How much more of a scene can this man cause? A passing waiter stops in his tracks, then turns around towards the back. He returns with a handful of cloth napkins. Bonnie is embarrassed they even need them.

 

“Not a real one,” Bonnie says after the mess has been cleaned up and the waiter is long gone. Brick just stares at her with wide open eyes. She can see the whites surrounding all of his pupils. What a drama queen. 

 

“She’s never been on a date before,” Bonnie clarifies for him. “And she’ll probably be doing that soon.” Assuming Riley got his act together. What does Ange see in that coward of a man? “I don’t want her to go into it unprepared.” She shrugs. “Ange likes those datasets or whatever.” 

 

Unfortunately, Brick looks just as lost as before. Bonnie sighs, rubbing her temple as she tries to figure out how to simplify this further. Thankfully, Brick isn’t that stupid. 

 

“So... you want to... practice date Ange?” Brick asks. He still looks confused, but for a different reason this time. “For her practice?”

 

Bonnie nods slowly, hoping that helps. “Would that be alright?” she asks, giving Brick a sugary sweet smile. The kind that would make any boy blush, including him. 

 

“W-well,” Brick coughs. He starts thinking, then his eyes glaze over. Bonnie hopes he’s not thinking about Ange in anything but a chaste way. She’s too good for him too-

 

What did I just think?

 

“Alright, if you think that she’d be cool with it,” Brick says, interrupting any deeper thoughts.

 

Bonnie latches onto the distraction happily. Then she feels actual joy swell through her body. The corners of her lips lift towards the sky. “For serious?” 

 

“Yeah. I mean, if you’re that set on it.” Brick shrugs. In the darkness, Bonnie misses the thoughtfulness in his eyes. She’s too dizzy with elation. “What the hell. Go for it.” 

 

Bubbles float and pop beneath her ribcage. Her cheeks start to hurt, but she can’t stop grinning. “Brick?” Bonnie takes her fork and picks up a pear with it. He waits for her, uncharacteristically patient. “You’re the best boyfriend ever.” 

 

A familiar puppy dog smile graces his face. He reaches over and touches her free hand. 

 

“Whatever makes you happy, Bonnie.” His eyes are soft. Bonnie can see that, even through the dim light of The Velvet Bone . “That’s all that I want.”

Chapter 63: Chapter 62

Now that she’s had a full eight and a half hours of sleep, Ange feels a lot better. Her mind is clearer, her senses are sharper. Every single one of her walls has been reinforced with rebar and concrete, dried, set, and impenetrable. Today and forever, she’s Bonnie’s friend. Thinking that doesn’t hurt as much as yesterday.

 

When Bonnie almost comes skipping down the hallway, Ange notices it immediately. Ange pulls her textbook out of her locker and turns around to track Bonnie as she glides towards Ange. 

 

It’s Wednesday. Cheer practice is after school, so Bonnie’s wearing her uniform. The skirt of it bounces with each step. Ange reminds herself that it’s impolite to stare, so she looks up. Bonnie has an excited, open smile painted across her face. Promptly, Ange’s brain stops working. When Bonnie leaps against her, Ange’s back hits the locker wall. 

 

Her world is filled with the scent of florals and spice.

 

“Angie,” Bonnie says, bright as the morning sunrise. Her arms wrap around Ange’s torso, squeezing her tightly. Her face slots perfectly against Ange’s shoulder. Ange’s brain doesn’t start working. “Do you have any plans today?” 

 

“Huh?” Ange says stupidly. Bonnie’s warm turquoise eyes blink up at her. Ange’s heart goes entirely soft. “I mean- I was just- going to do some lab stuff.”

 

“Hmmm.” That pleases Bonnie for some reason. She lifts both her hands, propping them on one of Ange’s shoulders and props her chin on that. Automatically, one of Ange’s arms wrap around Bonnie’s waist. It, uh, it’s chilly in the halls.

 

She’ll go with that. 

 

“Okay, meet me after practice,” Bonnie commands, gauging Ange’s reaction.

 

Ange nods stupidly at her. Damnit. So much for letting go. 

 

Only Donavan walking up to them pries Ange’s arm off Bonnie’s waist. Yet Bonnie doesn’t stop leaning against her side. She gives Donavan a lazy side-eyed glance. Donavan looks between the two of them with raised eyebrows. When he gives Ange a look, Ange subtly shrugs one of her hands. She doesn’t know what the heck is going on. 

 

Maybe this is how girl friendships just go? Bonnie’s never done this with her before, but she has been this touchy feely with other girls, including Tara. Does she just feel comfortable enough with Ange now? Should Ange even be encouraging this? Is that appropriate to do, since Bonnie has a boyfriend. But if it’s normal for girls to do, wouldn’t it give too much away if she discouraged-

 

A fingernail pokes her cheek. Ange blinks, refocusing on reality. Bonnie lowers her finger, tilting her head to the side and resting her cheek on both of her clasped hands. She’s watching Ange with a thoughtfully amused smirk. 

 

“Where do you go in that head of yours?” Bonnie murmurs, soft enough that only Ange can hear. Ange memorizes everything about this moment, from the softness in Bonnie’s eyes, to the mischievous way she holds her mouth, to the radiant bodyheat of Bonnie’s frame pressed against her. She memorizes all of it, whether she wants to or not. 

 

“I was thinking about social navigation, and how best to do it,” Ange says after a while. Bonnie looks fascinated by it, like Ange just gave her a puzzle piece to slot into place. Maybe she did. 

 

“Do you always have to be such a dork, Possible?” 

 

A sigh of defeat. A wry smile. Ange gives Bonnie a soft grin. One interaction is all it takes, and every single defense Ange has crumbles to the floor. She’s helpless against Bonnie, isn’t she? 

 

“Yeah,” she says. Ange hugs her textbook to her chest, like that will shield her from something Bonnie’s already obtained. “I think I do.” 

 

---

 

Ange walks on top of the clouds until they get to Bonnie’s locker. Brick is there, as usual. Bonnie jumps into his arms, also usual. Ange keeps her smile plastered onto her face and ignores every other feeling she has. Donavan is watching her.

 

Brick is too. He gives her an obvious, curious glance that prods Ange’s instincts. If she didn’t feel someone dragging a rusty scythe across her gut like grain, she would have analyzed that. Instead, she grins at him, he grins back. They all walk to English together. 

 

She doesn’t learn a goddamn thing during that period. She spends it rebuilding herself. 

 

All the better to keep herself safe. 

 

---

 

The heavy double doors to the gymnasium open. Ange walks through them and heads for the bleachers. Ron is there, working through some of his homework. From the looks of it, he’s struggling. When her shadow falls over his head, he looks up. 

 

“Hi Ron,” Ange says, smiling. It looks like he’s doing math homework. “Do you want any help?”

 

Ron grins right up at her. “No!” he says happily. Ange blinks in surprise. Instead, he takes all of his papers and books and shoves them into his bag. “I was just about to stop anyway.” 

 

“But you weren’t done-”

“I’m done,” Ron corrects her, kicking his bag away. Ange can only roll her eyes. What an odd boy. He leans back on the bleachers, exuding suave charm. At least he probably thinks it is. Ange will give him a point for effort. “How’s it going, Ange? Can’t get enough of the Ron-man?”

 

“Yes, Ron,” Ange says dryly. “The reason I came to the gymnasium where the cheerleaders practice after school is to hang out with you.” 

 

Ron ignores her sarcasm in favor of puffing out his chest. “Oh, I know. I’m pretty irresistible. Gotta beat all the pretty women off me with a stick.”

 

Ange clicks her tongue and drops her backpack onto the seat beside him. “Alright, Casanova,” Ange says, turning around towards the girls while she watches him from over her shoulder. “How about you sit there while I go converse with pretty women that actually choose to talk to me.” She grins when Ron opens, then closes his mouth, rightfully silenced. 

 

Turning forward, she comes face to face with three of her favorite girls. Kim, who looks unamused. Tara, who does look amused, and Bonnie, who is watching her with piercing eyes. Practice must be over. Ange gives them all a grin. 

 

“Hi girls!” she says. “Did you have a good time?”

 

“It was peachy,” Kim says. She reaches over and pokes Ange. “Don’t tease Ron.” When Ange raises an eyebrow, Kim’s frown breaks a little. “One day a pretty woman will want to talk to him too.” Even Bonnie breaks into snickers when they hear Ron’s aghast ‘hey!’ from behind Ange.

 

Kim, the nicest girl in the world probably, goes over to smooth his ego. Tara and Bonnie are left. Ange’s blood runs cold when she notices they’re talking to each other with their eyes. Especially because it seems they’ve reached a consensus. Tara walks over and grabs her right arm. Bonnie steps closer and grabs her left. Ange’s eyes dart back and forth between them and wonders what trap they’re about to spring on her.

 

“Hey, Angie, it was a great practice, thanks for asking.” Tara says, candy sweet. She rubs her cheek against Ange’s shoulder, which feels really nice. If it’s a ploy to get Ange to lower her guard, it’s working. 

 

Bonnie, from her other side, runs a hand lightly up Ange’s arm. “It’s nice to know that you think we’re pretty,” she says lightly. When Ange looks at her, Bonnie is smiling. There’s biting behind her eyes. “Can I ask you something, just out of curiosity?” 

 

Even though her instincts tell her she’s walking towards certain doom, Ange nods. “Of course. I might not have an answer, though.”

 

Bonnie ‘tsks’. “Who do you think is prettier? You’ve got an answer for that, don't you?” 

 

The look in her eyes promises hell if Ange doesn’t. Ange’s smile softens with amusement. This is a question she’s considered in great detail already. 

 

“Tell me, Bonnie,” Ange starts. “Can you compare the beauty of a mountain peak piercing the heavens to the gentle waves of a calm ocean?”

 

It makes Bonnie pause, off balance. Besides her, Tara lets out a small ‘ooh’. Encouraged, Ange lets herself continue. 

 

“The beauty of a wild flower cannot be compared to the stream it drinks from. They’re too different.” She gives Tara and Bonnie’s arms each a squeeze. “And just like I can’t compare a vibrant sunset to a misty forest, I can’t compare either of you. And yet, I find you both unimaginably beautiful.”

 

Gratification dances between Ange’s ribs. Bonnie has gone red on one side. On the other, Tara is staring at her with doe eyes. 

 

“That’s a good answer,” Tara eventually says. She stands on her tip-toes and plants a soft kiss on Ange’s cheek. 

 

“Buh,” Ange replies. Suddenly, her face is on fire. She watches like a fool as Tara bursts into giggles. There’s a playful light in those bright blue eyes. They flicker to Bonnie. For some reason, Tara raises an eyebrow and squints her eyes affectionately. Then, she lets go of Ange’s arm. 

 

“See you tomorrow, girls,” Tara calls out as she heads into the locker room. Ange tracks her with wide eyes until the door closes behind her. When she finally looks at Bonnie, Bonnie is glaring at her. 

 

“Uhm,” Ange smiles nervously. “Hi.”

 

Turquoise eyes narrow dangerously. Bonnie unwinds from Ange’s arm, leaving her skin cold and her grasp empty. “Since when did you two get that close?”

 

“Oh, that isn’t normal?” Ange rubs the cheek Tara kissed. That was definitely flirting then. Fascinating. 

 

Bonnie’s eyes widen in surprise. Then she huffs. “I forgot that you’re a total weirdo,” Bonnie bites out. 

 

From behind them, they hear a ‘hey!’ They turn around at the same time to find Kim glaring at Bonnie.

 

“She is not!” Kim says. Protective rage simmers behind her forest green eyes. Ange is genuinely touched.

 

“She totally is,” Bonnie replies, resting both of her hands on her hips. Disdain colors her features, she cocks a hip to the side. It would be attractive, except it’s pointed at Kim. “Angie’s a fucking weirdo.”

 

“Language,” Ange says and Kim growls. 

 

Ange gives Kim what she hopes is a soothing smile. “Bonnie is teaching me the intricacies of societal norms,” she says as a way of explanation.

 

It makes Kim stop short. Besides Ange, Bonnie gestures at Ange. “See?” Bonnie asks. “Total weirdo.” 

 

Kim doesn’t seem to know what to say. Ron, sitting on the bleachers still, coughs. “I never thought I’d say these words, but I’m with Bonnie on this one.”

 

Kim gives him a glare that makes him flinch, then gather up his things for a quick getaway. 

 

“Hey, I just remembered that I have to finish my math homework!” Ron says, hoofing it towards the door. “I’ll meet you at Bueno Nacho, KP!” The sound of the heavy gymnasium doors closing echoes throughout the room. Kim pinches the bridge of her nose, then sighs.

 

“Bye, Angie,” Kim says, sounding defeated. “I’ll see you at home.” As Kim walks past her, Ange leans over and squishes a kiss onto her cheek. That seems to cheer her up a little. 

 

“Take care,” Ange says, watching until Kim disappears behind the locker doors. 

 

It’s just her and Bonnie now. If this was before Brick had entered the picture, Ange would have been happy about it. Now, she walks over and sits on the bleachers, putting distance between her and Bonnie. Ange had been close enough to smell her. 

 

“So,” Ange says, glancing at Bonnie. Like a sunset, Bonnie is stunning. Bright turquoise eyes, perfect lips that shine with gloss. Even the sweat that makes her hair stick to her face enhances her natural beauty. Ange pulls her knees up to her chest and hugs her legs. It gives her something to do other than stare. “You wanted me?” 

 

For some reason, Bonnie’s mouth parts slightly. Ange starts staring now, trying to figure out what’s going on in Bonnie’s head. Slowly, tentatively, Bonnie picks her way over to Ange. Ange’s blue eyes follow each step all the way to her very side. When Bonnie sits besides Ange, she tucks her purple skirt underneath her and gracefully settles onto her seat. A dancer moving through space.

 

“Hey, Angie?” Bonnie says. Her eyes are lidded, there’s haughtiness on her face, but it’s fake. Her voice is too soft.

 

Ange tilts her head, watching, watching, watching. 

 

“Do you want to go on a date with me?”

 

The first thing that happens is that Ange’s train of thought trips over itself. It crashes and it burns. Up it goes in thick, black clouds of smoke. Elation lifts Ange ten thousand feet above herself. A moment later, she plummets back down to earth, right through its crust. 

 

Does she know? 

 

Does she know? 

 

Fear makes her freeze, then it forces her to think . A thousand thoughts scatter in every direction. Ange picks the biggest one and speaks it.

 

“Did you break up with Brick?” 

 

She tries so, so hard to keep excitement out of her voice. It mostly works, except she’s breathless. Bonnie doesn’t notice. She snorts, smiling at a joke Ange can’t grasp.

 

“Wha- no way, silly.” 

 

Confusion and heartbreak clash against each other violently. War banners flap against tearing winds. Ange needs more information, but she can’t find the will to speak. Thankfully, Bonnie provides it.

 

“I mean, like, I was just thinking about how you’ve never been on a date before,” Bonnie says. “And you’re such a nerd about everything. I figured, why not give you some experience first. For practice.”

 

“Practice?” Ange croaks out.    

 

“Mhm,” Bonnie says, nodding in amusement. “So you don’t do anything dumb on your first real date.”

 

Devastation. Something awful has cracked her ribcage open. Her heart touches the air, convulsing and exposed. 

 

Practice. This would be practice. Only practice.

 

It wouldn’t be real. 

 

Ange forces her eyes shut. She needs to think faster, or else Bonnie will know. She draws a bow and pins another thought down with its arrow. She needs to say no. This wouldn’t be fair to Bonnie, who just wants to help her. This wouldn’t be fair to her, because she wants this to be real. So, she needs to say no. 

 

What comes out of her mouth is this: “Brick is okay with this?” 

 

“I talked to him about it already.” Bonnie sounds like she’s smiling. “He said he was fine with it.” 

 

Ange goes very still. The storm raging in her mind gets swallowed underneath a vast and cold ocean. Her blue eyes open. She feels calm. 

 

She needs to say no. Ange promised that she’d let Bonnie go.

 

When Ange looks at Bonnie, there’s shyness in turquoise eyes. Bonnie’s finally looking at her, pleased and nervous all in one. 

 

I’m a bad person.

 

Now that Ange is thoroughly in her growth spurt, her hands have grown bigger. When she uncoils her arms from her knees and places a hand on top of Bonnie’s, they’re big enough to almost cover Bonnie’s. She can feel the warmth of Bonnie’s fingers and the cold of the metal bleacher bench they rest on. 

 

Bonnie looks down at the contact, eyes wide with surprise. Bonnie's gaze flickers back towards her face, and Ange greets it with a grin. 

 

I’m a bad and selfish person.

 

“Yes, Bonnie,” Ange hears herself say. “I would love to go on a date with you.” 

 

When Bonnie smiles at her, it’s radiant. Not once has Ange seen this kind of expression on Bonnie’s face. 

 

Ange burns it into her mind forever. She squeezes Bonnie’s hand and does something evil. 

 

She smiles back.

Chapter 64: Chapter 63

Kim isn’t there when she gets home. Ange goes downstairs into the lab and loses herself in projects. By the time she’s finished streamlining an undersea mining drone for mass production, it’s nine post meridiem, and she’s covered in sweat. 

 

Ange walks towards her flying laboratory The Nimbus . It hovers against the ceiling, almost silent except for a buzzing that undercurrents the other lab noise. A press of a finger against her watch and it uncloaks itself. Another and it descends to the ground. There are eight new builds mounted on its floor. The one she cares about is nearest to the steering system. She types a few coordinates into her computer and the Temporal Wormhole Transponder comes to life beside her. 

 

Out of nothing, energy slices through reality. A perfectly circular hole as wide as her drone bisects the open air in front of her Nimbus . It’s horizontal, so she can’t see the darkness on the other end. The smell and cold of the deep ocean fills the room.

 

“Activate protocol Mike Delta, Alpha version one point zero zero.”

 

Her drone comes to life. It lifts off the ground and hovers in space. Ange watches as it tests every tool in its arsenal. The diamond tip drill, the storage compartment, the articulated claws, the emergency hydropump for quick movement, and everything else. Once it’s over, Ange points at the dark hole. Loyal like a dog, it enters crushing depths with no hesitation. 

 

The Temporal wormhole deactivates with another command into her computer. Ange trusts her machines to follow her bidding. There’s something more important to focus on. 

 

As she leaves the lab, The Nimbus floats back up the ceiling and blends into the noise of the lab. As she shuts the door, nano reflectors bend the light around it until it’s invisible. 

 

---

 

“Wow, you look awful,” Kim says in surprise when Ange makes it up the stairs to their attic bedroom. Ange gives her a tired and rueful smile. Briefly, she considers hugging Kim until she’s covered in sweaty grease. Amusingly, it makes Kim crouch in preparation for motion. 

 

Instead, Ange walks towards their shared restroom. That’s even more surprising for Kim. Ange can’t blame her. Usually, Ange is happy to bother her. 

 

“I did something awful,” Ange says. Kim follows her. The shower turns on. Ange doesn’t wait for it to warm up before she steps inside. Thankfully, the shower curtain keeps her hidden from Kim’s sharp eyes. Her hand leans against the tile wall, frigid water beats down her back. Ange stares at nothing and starts her confession. 

 

---

 

A towel is flung over her face the moment she steps out of the shower. As Ange dries off, Kim processes everything Ange told her. After a long moment, her sister finally speaks.

 

“So, Bonnie is going to fake date you?” Kim asks. “To prepare you for a real date?” Ange nods, too tired to speak more than she has to. 

 

“Bonnie, who’s dating Brick Flagg?”

 

“He’s okay with it apparently,” Ange mumbles, trying to come to Bonnie’s defense. Hopefully one day, Bonnie and Kim could get along. When Kim gives her a judging look - which is fair. Ange is judging herself too - Ange holds her hands up in the air.  “It’s fake , remember?”

 

The smile on her face must be full of self loathing because Kim’s eyebrows pull upwards. Seconds later and her arms wrap tightly around Ange. Ange clenches her hands into fists. 

 

“And I said yes.” Her voice cracks into pieces half way through. Ocean eyes start to burn. Ange blinks them quickly. 

 

“I said yes.” Ange laughs, breathless, sobbing. A drip of water from wet hair slides down her cheek. That’s what she tells herself. “I’m so pathetic.”

 

“Don’t talk about my sister like that,” Kim says close to her ear. Her grip is strong enough to keep Ange’s body from fragmenting into shards of glass. Ange wraps shaking hands around Kim’s back. She hates crying. She hates it so much. 

 

But if she can do it anywhere, it’s here.

 

---

 

On Thursday morning, in the library, Donavan walks up to Bonnie. Without a word, he places a hand held gun-shaped device covered in glitter glue onto her table. Bonnie looks at it, then looks at Donavan. She waits a beat before she gets impatient. 

 

“Are you just going to stare or can you use your words?” Bonnie says, quietly because this is the library. 

 

Donavan rolls his eyes behind his thick glasses. “It’s the first gadget in my arsenal.” 

 

That wasn’t so hard, was it? Bonnie gives it another, more curious look. It doesn’t look that impressive. In fact, it looks just like a-

 

“Is that a glitter gun?” 

 

“It’s devestating,” Donavan quips. “Impossible to clean.”

 

“Right,” Bonnie says flatly. Donavan ignores her tone and points at the homework she’s working on. 

 

“Let me help you.” 

 

“Oh.” That’s actually kind of nice. Bonnie clears the spot next to her. “Thanks, I guess.”

 

“I just dislike looking at mathematical mistakes.” 

 

If Bonnie didn’t just find out she’d made a miscalculation, she would deck the boy. Instead, she grits her teeth, glares at him hard enough that he swallows, and shoves her homework over. 

 

“Then explain it to me,” Bonnie growls out from her clenched jaw. It’s a little gratifying that Donavan looks genuinely afraid. Clearly, he’s forgotten his place in the hierarchy of high school. If he wasn’t Ange’s friend…

 

Donavan looks down at the paper she was working on. Quietly, he starts explaining the proper logic. Under his tutelage, the work goes by much faster. She actually has a quarter hour of free time to kill before she has to go find Ange. 

 

A wide smile blooms on her face. Thinking about Ange gives her an idea.

 

“Donavan,” Bonnie says. Donavan looks up curiously, likely wondering why she’d even bother talking to him outside of homework related queries. “What’s Ange’s favorite kind of food?” Both of Donavan’s eyebrows scoot up his forehead. “And don’t tell me Quickly Panda. I mean, like, actual food.” 

 

“...Isn’t that something you should ask Ange about?” Donavan says. For some reason, he sounds probing. Bonnie elects to ignore it. His thoughts don’t matter unless they’re useful to her.

 

“So you don’t know?” Bonnie asks innocently. It makes Donavan twitch, which makes Bonnie suppress a grin. She’s got him, and he hates it. Naturally, she loves it.

 

“Thai food,” Donavan says slowly, as if Bonnie tortured it out of him. What a drama queen. “The spicier the better.”

 

“What a masochist,” Bonnie sighs out softly.

 

That, Donavan can agree with. He nods his head along. It stops in its tracks when Bonnie speaks again.

 

“At least it’s cute.” 

 

Bonnie can see Donavan’s eyes pop out of his head through the corner of her vision. 

 

Oops, she hadn’t meant to say that part out loud (not that she’s wrong). Bonnie decides the best way to play this off is to act normal. She gives Donavan a weirded out look that would have sent any regular person running for the hills. 

 

“What is your ish?” Bonnie says, scanning him up and down with judgement. Ugly sneakers, dorky khakis, a button up with a fucking pocket protector. Bonnie doesn’t need to pretend to be disgusted now. 

 

Despite the scathing look Bonnie gives him, Donavan doesn’t shrink away. “You think that’s cute? ”

 

Ugh , Bonnie rolls her eyes so hard they hurt a little. Instead of answering, Bonnie gathers her things into her fashionable backpack and stands up. It’s time to go bother Ange anyway.

 

---

 

Donavan isn’t athletic enough to keep up with her. Bonnie makes it there first, both smugly and gracefully. 

 

Somehow, Ange notices Bonnie from across the hallway. They make brief eye contact before Ange reaches into her locker to grab her textbook. Bonnie wonders what it takes to learn that kind of awareness. Maybe she should try and meet this shifu lady Ange spoke about. 

 

When she gets close enough, Ange gives Bonnie her full attention. Bonnie feels herself get a little lighter.

 

“Hey, Angie,” Bonnie says, genuinely pleased. When she’s just a step away, she wraps a hand around Ange’s arm, right against the small of her elbow. Underneath her touch, powerful and warm muscles tighten. They feel dense. 

 

“Are you free tonight?” Ange raises an eyebrow, obviously amused. Bonnie feels her face scrunch up. “After your mathelets, I mean.” 

 

“I am free, yes,”

 

“Good.” 

 

Donavan finally makes it to them. Bonnie doesn’t let him distract her from her good mood. 

 

“I’ll pick you up at seven. Wear a dress, okay?” It would probably be better to take Ange shopping for the perfect outfit, but Bonnie’s too impatient to wait on this. What if Riley asks her out tomorrow? He probably wouldn’t, but it’s still better to get some experience under Ange’s belt first. 

 

Ange seems amused by the command. After saying a quick ‘good morning, Donavan,’ she goes back to their conversation. 

 

“Is the dress mandatory?” She’s wearing jeans and a fitted tee today. Plain, kind of butch in the way they cling to her body. A dress isn’t necessarily Ange’s style, but Bonnie knows she’ll still look divine in one. 

 

“Duh,” Bonnie scoffs. “You’re the girl.” Ange chuckles. It’s low and smooth enough for Bonnie to enjoy. Quietly, of course.

 

Their third companion, Donavan, looks incredibly lost by the conversation. Instead of explaining, Bonnie tugs at Ange’s arm. They start their way towards her locker, and Brick. 

 

“Alright, Bonnie,” Ange says. “I’ll see you tonight.” 

 

When they see Bonnie’s man, Ange untangles her arm from Bonnie’s grip. Bonnie pretends not to be annoyed by that as she skips over and flings herself into Brick’s giant hug. It gets easier when she remembers she’s going on a date with Angie tonight. 

 

A fake one, she reminds herself. It isn’t going to count. Bonnie’s lips curve into a wicked little grin. 

 

That doesn’t mean they can’t have fun. 

 

---

 

Tara is already at the table when Ange arrives. Bonnie isn’t, so Ange sets her backpack down on her usual seat and settles beside Tara in Bonnie’s. Tara glances at her, smiles, and finds a good point to disengage from the conversation buzzing around the table. Something about how many marshmallows someone can fit in their mouth while still speaking coherently. 

 

(Ange’s record is twelve full sized ‘mallows).

 

“Hello Tara,” Ange says. Tara scoots a little closer, then leans over to rest her chin on Ange’s shoulder. When Ange swallows, Tara snickers. Maybe Tara is a succubus too? She should add that to her files at home.

 

“Hi Angie,” Tara says near her ear. Far enough that it isn’t intimate, close enough that her ear goes numb anyway. She’s seen Tara do that to Bonnie a few times. How does Bonnie live with it? “Hows your day goin’?”

 

“Oh,” Ange thinks back to this morning, Bonnie clinging onto her arm only to run into another person’s arms moments later. “Both amazing and horrible,” she says.

 

Tara raises an inquisitive eyebrow. Unfortunately, Ange has no idea how to explain what’s going on. 

 

“Bonnie?” Tara guesses.

 

Somehow, that sums it all up. Silent, Ange nods. A hand takes her own. Tara squeezes Ange’s palm. When Ange looks down at them entwined together, she feels a bit better. 

 

“Can I tell you a secret?” Tara murmurs so softly only Ange can hear it. Ange looks at her, trying to read every micro expression on Tara’s face. There’s an anxious vulnerability.

 

“Always, Tara” Ange says. This time, she squeezes Tara’s hand, and that seems to make Tara feel a bit better. 

 

“We’re in the same boat.” Maybe she’s watching too intently. Tara hides her face against Ange’s shoulder and continues with a muffled voice. “I’ve liked Bonnie for years.”

 

“Oh,” Ange says, processing this as quickly as she can. “That makes sense.” Bright blue eyes peak up at her from over her shoulder. “Donavan told me that everyone who is attracted to women falls for Bonnie at some point or another.”

 

Those pretty eyes go very wide. Then Tara sits up, biting her lip. Ange starts fretting over their conversation, trying to pinpoint what she said wrong when Tara starts to laugh. It rings out against the din in the cafeteria, bell like and beautiful. Ange watches her with wide eyes until her lips twitch. 

 

She’s not sure what she said that was so funny, but it’s hard not to share in Tara’s mirth. 

 

“Angie!” Tara says between gasps of air. She runs a hand over her eye to wipe away a tear that’s forming. Her smile is completely open. Ange goes helplessly soft at the sight. “I think I might know one of the reasons you’re so weird now.” 

 

Ange lets a fond breath out through her nose. She makes sure she has Tara’s complete attention.

 

“Quack.” 

 

When Bonnie gets to their table, Tara is doubled over against Ange’s side, shaking. Ange catches Bonnie’s eye and breaks out into a grin. Instead of offering any explanation, Ange gives her a blue eyed wink that only confuses Bonnie. All for the best. Though Tara is happy, Ange isn’t really sure how to explain what’s going on.

Chapter 65: Chapter 64

Ange paces the entire length of their room, back and forth and back and forth. She’s pulled her hair up into a ponytail, hair tamed for once. Kim had applied makeup onto her, and maybe it helps? It’s really hard for Ange to be impartial when she’s the subject of study… And she’s going on a date with Bonnie.

 

A fake date. 

 

She ignores the hurt. There are higher priorities. Like if her dress looks good - dark red, backless, paired with black lace leggings and garter. Or if she had enough conversation topics memorized - approximately one hundred. Or if she-

 

“Stop worrying!” Kim says. She’s laying on her bunk. The magazine she had been reading rests on her stomach. Forest green eyes steadily track Ange as she moves. She looks highly amused. “You’re going to be fine, alright?”

 

“Sorry,” Ange says. She forces herself to stop pacing. To channel her nervous energy, she starts touching her thumb to each fingertip. It’s a tell she’s mostly grown out of, but Kim is a safe enough person to show weakness in front of. “Just, what if I make a fool of myself. Or my heel snaps. Or spill something on me. Or spill something on Bonnie. Or she thinks I’m ugly- Kim, am I ugly-AH!?”

 

Kim’s face hovers inches from her own. Ange is once again reminded of the gap in skill between them. How could Kim sneak up on her? Ange already knew she was here! If Ange wasn’t certain that her Shifu would lose interest with her, she’d introduce Kim to Shifu. Maybe she should anyway. The more Kim learned the safer she’d be.

A hand waving in front of her eyes brings her back to reality. 

 

“Ange,” Kim says, sounding very amused. “Stop overthinking.” 

 

“Sorry,” Ange says quickly. Again. Before she can kick herself, a hand rests on her cheek. Ange focuses her sense of touch on Kim’s rough palm instead. 

 

“You’re super pretty.” The smile Kim gives her helps calm her beating heart. Ange memorizes it. “And you’re not going to snap a heel or spill anything. You’ll be fine.”

 

“Okay,” Ange says. She nods a few times. “Cool.” She’s not really reassured, but if she acts like she is, it’ll be true. “Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool.”

 

The front door rings. 

 

Ange makes some kind of squeaky strangled noise. Kind of like a squirrel suffering a heart attack, maybe. Kim laughs at her, eyes scrunched affectionately. 

 

“Good luck with your, uh, weird experiment, Angie,” Kim says, squeezing her arms. It probably says something about Ange that this is the experiment Kim finds weird. Kim squeezes her arms one more time, looking at them.

 

“Ange, when I graduate high school, will you alter my genome?”

 

If this is a ploy to distract Ange, it kind of works.

 

Her right eyelid twitches in annoyance. “So it’s okay when you want your genome altered, but when I do it I get grounded for a week?” 

 

Kim snorts, and delivers a most devastating blow. “I’m just smart enough to wait until I’m eighteen.” 

 

If Ange wasn’t about to go out on a (fake, fake, fake, this is fake ) date, she would have tried to stab Kim with one of her stilettos. Instead, she turns around and makes her way down the two flights of stairs to the front door. She’s pretty sure Kim follows her down one, and hides behind a wall to peek at the coming show. She’s too nervous to check.

 

When Ange opens the front door, her train of thought stops working. She can see it fly off its rails and crash on the horizon behind Bonnie.

 

Bonnie, who looks stunning in her grey and white suit. Bonnie wore a suit for her. No tie, just a pressed white shirt left open over a dripping silver chain that Ange wanted to wrap around her fingers-

 

“Hi,” Ange says, sounding like an arboreal rodent experiencing cardiac arrest. Bonnie raises one single eyebrow at her. If Ange looks closely, there’s a bit of humor underneath her judgement. Maybe it’s more accurate to say there’s a bit of judgmental humor in her eyes? Ange needs to say something before she looks any more stupid than she already is. “You look nice.” 

 

“I know,” Bonnie says, finally looking her up and down. Ange wonders if she’s passed the test- “You look really nice, too.”

 

“Cool!” Ange says, grinning too widely. “Cool, cool, cool, cool.”

 

“Don’t start your first date out like that.” Bonnie rolls her eyes. She offers a hand to Ange, pretty, manicured, dark blue nail polish lacquered with care on each fingernail. Ange admires it. 

 

Oh, right, I’m supposed to take it.

 

Ange places her fingers over Bonnie’s. Daintily, because she’s the girl. “Noted.” Bonnie has cold hands. She’s really skinny, too. Maybe she doesn’t eat enough to keep a healthy metabolism? Maybe it’s just genetic variation. Either way, Ange is probably putting too much thought into it. The crux of the matter is that Bonnie’s hand feels nice against hers. She can’t help but look down at it and smile. “Where are we going?” 

 

Turquoise eyes stare at their hands too. Bonnie finally looks up. She smiles and it softens all of her features. “You’ll see when we get there.” A little tug of her hand is all it takes for Ange to follow after her. Bonnie is wearing her hair up in a ponytail too, likely to appear a bit more masculine. It exposes the nape of her neck. Ange stares at it. 

 

She’s hungry.

 

---

 

The restaurant Bonnie takes her to is called The Lanterns of Siam. It’s full of red stained wood and tasteful lighting that is just low enough to be intimate. They sit on a table by a large window, and the lights of Middleton are somehow magical tonight. Ange isn’t looking at them. 

 

Like everything else about her, Bonnie has a lovely profile. A small and pointed nose, beautifully proportioned lips, sharp, fox-like eyes that catch underneath the light. When Bonnie turns back from the window, she catches Ange mid-stare. Her eyes widen every so slightly. Ange smiles normally this time and thinks quickly. 

 

“What do you do at four in the morning?” Ange asks. If she changes the subject, Bonnie won’t have time to ask what that was about. 

 

“Hmm?” Bonnie looks surprised at the question, so Ange elaborates.

 

“I was just wondering if that’s something you naturally do or if there’s another motivation.” 

 

“...Angie, quack for me.” Ange tilts her head to the side in amusement. 

 

“Quack. Sorry for being weird.” 

 

“Don’t worry about it,” Bonnie says. She looks entertained by Ange’s antics. “It’s part of your charm, I think.” That makes Ange wiggle from side to side. Bonnie thinks she’s charming! “I get ready for my ballet classes.” That’s what Ange had suspected. Bonnie’s schedule wasn’t consistent enough in the afternoons to squeeze that much in, unless it was late at night.

 

If Bonnie knew that Ange knew her schedule, she’d probably find that weird in a less charming way. 

 

“Will there be any showings?” 

 

“What?” 

 

“Uhm,” Ange purses her lips in thought. “When I was a kid, I took a sword dancing class over a summer.” Her grandfather had insisted on it. “At the end of it, I was scheduled to perform for my mama and extended family. There must be something similar for ballet, right?” 

 

“You’d want to go to one of my recitals?” Bonnie says. She sounds so uncertain Ange gives her an encouraging nod.

 

“You already know I find your dancing beautiful. If you prefer not having me there, that’s okay too.”

 

“You can come,” Bonnie tells her, voice tender. Ange closes her eyes to enjoy the sound. “It’s in December. I’ll text you the details later.”

 

“Spankin’.” 

 

Bonnie reaches over the table and flicks her on the shoulder. “Do not say that. It’s awful slang.”

 

“No it’s not. It’s-”

“If you tell me it’s “spankin’” I’m going to leave you with the bill.”

 

“I don’t mind.” When Ange says that, Bonnie blinks in surprise. “I kind of like the idea of paying anyway.” It made her feel useful. 

 

“You’re not paying for your first date,” Bonnie says, biting out each word. Ange focuses on her very intently. 

 

Very intently.

 

“Then it’s alright if I pay now?” Ange asks. She can’t keep the testing out of her voice, even though she wishes she could. Bonnie’s mouth parts, but she quickly shuts it with a snap.

 

“...I guess so.” Her brow is furrowed. Ange stares, thinking, then dismissing the implications of Bonnie’s grumpiness. Best to move the conversation along.

 

“Are you going to dance after school too?” 

 

“Probably,” Bonnie says, shaking herself out of her funk. “I mean, I want to cheer in college. But-” She breaks her sentence in half. 

 

“But?” 

 

“It’s not important.” Ange gives her a look that makes her shift in her chair. The movement makes Bonnie’s necklace glitter in the dim light. “It’ll probably never happen, is all.” 

 

“It won’t happen if you talk like that,” Ange says. She rests her chin onto her hand and her elbow on the table, looking Bonnie up and down slowly. “But I’ve never known The Bonnie Rockwaller to be a quitter.” 

 

“Oh, shut up,” Bonnie mumbles. She’s smiling though, so Ange counts it as a win. Bonnie looks down at the table. “I’ve always wanted to perform in a musical on Broadway.”

 

An uncontrollable smile plasters Ange’s face. “You sing too?” Ange leans back in her chair with a laugh. When Bonnie looks back up at her, she doesn’t seem to know how to react to Ange’s reaction. “Geez, Bonnie, is there anything you can’t do?” 

 

The haughtiness Bonnie adopts is familiar. The genuinely pleased undertone of it isn’t, but it is very welcome. “I’m sure there is,” she says lightly. “I just haven’t found it yet.” Ange throws another laugh into the air. Bonnie sits up a little straighter. Just in time for their meals to arrive.

 

Thai food is her absolute favorite. She’d gotten herself a portion of extra spicy curry and rice. Bonnie had elected to go for a papaya salad with grilled shrimp. Ange eyes it, then grabs an extra plate and a pair of chopsticks. To Bonnie’s protest, she grabs the shrimp right before her eyes.

 

“Ange, were you raised in a barn? Because it really seems like you were raised in a barn.”

 

“Hold on,” Ange says, placing them on her plate. “I’m not going to eat them.” She’s done this for Kim so many times it’s easy. Using her chopsticks, she rips the tails and shells off each crustacean. Each vein gets placed on her extra plate before she places them back onto Bonnie’s dish. Maybe she eats the last one. 

 

“Deshelling tax,” Ange says after she swallows. She grins like a dope, hoping it soothes a bit of Bonnie’s annoyance. It must, because the only thing Bonnie does is narrow her eyes. 

 

“I didn’t know you liked Broadway,” Bonnie says, glancing down at her food. She presses a chopstick against a shrimp with care. 

 

“I’m not good at them, but I love all the arts.” According to mama, she’d inherited that from her, who inherited it from her grandmother. “Next to Normal is the best on Broadway.”

 

“Spring Awakening,” Bonnie corrects her. 

 

“I never thought I’d say this, but you’re so wrong,” Ange says, grinning good naturedly. Bonnie flashes her a smile that is actually just teeth. Since Ange is hungry, she starts to eat. They spend the next ten minutes sparring over the merits of their favorite showing before Ange throws her hands up in defeat. 

 

“Let’s agree to disagree, how about that?” She could continue to prove her very correct point, but she doesn’t want to turn this into an argument and Bonnie looks like she’s about to launch herself over the table at Ange. 

 

Maybe she should keep this conversation going. 

 

“Fine,” Bonnie sniffs. “I’m not going to judge you too badly for being wrong.” What a brat. Ange bares her teeth this time. Bonnie eyes her.

 

“Lucky me,” Ange says. She could wonder if Bonnie likes the concept of biting or being bitten, but that would be impolite. Ange pokes at her curry with a spoon. She has to remember that Bonnie is a taken woman. Something she’s almost forgotten tonight. 

 

“Hey.” There’s a worried and inquisitive look on Bonnie’s face when Ange glances back up at her. Thankfully, Bonnie doesn’t ask her about Ange’s mood swing. “Just so you know, if you’re ever on a date and your man doesn’t ask about anything you do, it’s a bad date.” 

 

“I’m having fun though.” She’ll never have a man anyway. Bonnie huffs fondly.

 

“That’s because I’m baller,” Bonnie says, making Ange bite her lip. “Seriously, though, tell me something cool.” Her beautiful eyes flicker upwards for a moment before coming back down. “Like, what are you working on in that freaky lab of yours?”

 

“It’s not just my lab,” Ange says. It’s important to be as accurate as possible. “It is pretty freaky down there, though,” she concedes. There’s certainly a conspiratorial gleam in her eye. The way Bonnie leans in closer gives it away. “I’m afraid what I’m working on right now is a secret.” It’s a piece she’s working on for Kim’s mission arsenal. One that is acceptable. 

 

Bonnie clicks her tongue. “Don’t be such a damn tease, Angie.” What a concept. 

 

Ange leans her chin onto her hand so she can cover her mouth with her fingers. She regards Bonnie long enough that Bonnie lifts an eyebrow. Finally, Ange speaks.

 

“If you want to come visit sometime, I might be able to give you a preview.” Her voice is slightly muffled. Good. There’s something indecent in her tone. 

 

She can’t do this again. This isn’t fair to Brick and it’s not fair to Bonnie. 

 

“Just promise you’ll keep it a secret from Kim.”

 

The grin Bonnie adopts is absolutely wicked. Ange thinks about it for the duration of their entire dinner.

 

---

 

The porch light of the Possible residence floods shadows across Bonnie’s features. The hollow of her eye sockets hide the emotions within her eyes. Ange stares at them anyway. 

 

“This was really nice,” Ange finds herself saying. She regrets it immediately. To speak it aloud means that it’s true. Bonnie smiles at her.

 

“I am a great first fake date,” she says haughtily. “Actually I kind of feel bad for you.”

 

“Why is that?” 

 

“I probably just ruined, like, ninety percent of men for you.” 

 

Ange starts laughing and laughing. She laughs so hard she doubles over. She laughs so hard when she’s done, Bonnie is leaning back in confusion.

 

“It wasn’t that funny.” 

 

Yes it was, but Ange isn’t going to say that out loud. 

 

“Sorry,” Ange says, wiping at her eyes. “My sense of humor is probably as weird as I am.” She’d quack again, but she’s already used that joke tonight. Bonnie rolls her eyes. Ange sees the smile pulling at her lips anyway.

 

“Just come here, Possible,” Bonnie orders. Ange’s body does as she’s told before Ange even has time to wonder what Bonnie wants.

 

Soft and gentle lips press against hers. Bonnie’s perfume fills her nose.

 

The touch is so brief Ange almost convinces herself she’s imagined it. Almost.

 

Bonnie steps backwards, smiling and satisfied. 

 

“A good first date needs to end like that,” Bonnie says. Ange stares at her. “If it doesn’t, you haven’t found the one.” 

 

Ange stares at her. 

 

“Actually,” Bonnie starts stepping backwards, out of the light of the porch. Ange stares at her as the darkness embraces her. “I had a really good night too,” Bonnie’s silhouette says. “See you tomorrow, Angie.”

 

“...see you,” Ange whispers. It’s not what she wants to say. 

 

Don’t go.

 

Bonnie’s already walking away towards the taxi idling to take her home. Ange stares until the vehicle drives away. She stares until she can’t hear its engine anymore. 

 

Come back. 

 

She stares until Kim opens the front door who knows how long later.

 

“Woah, there you are,” Kim says from behind her. Ange stares at the night. “I was just about to go looking for you. Why haven’t you answered any of my texts?” 

 

“Sorry,” Ange says. She touches her fingertips to her lips, tries to emulate what it felt like, and fails. Ange shuts her eyes tight, but it’s just like watching darkness. “I was distracted.” 

 

“Yeah, that tracks.” Kim’s hand falls onto her shoulder. It’s warm and heavy. “How’d it go?” 

 

Please don’t go.

 

“It was good.” Ange looks at Kim, completely undone. Never has she felt so lost. Never. Ange turns back towards the night, but no one is there to greet her. “It was really good.” 

 

She lets Kim guide her blindly into their home. Nothing takes her eyes off the dark until Kim closes the door in front of her. 

 

Please come back. 

 

Ange stares at that too. Even after Kim pulls her into a tight hug, Ange stares. Her hands stay at her side, twitching.  She can’t raise them. 

 

She’ll only reach for someone she can’t have.

 

 

Chapter 66: Chapter 65

“Shifu!” Ange calls out as she bursts into the old warehouse. In the light of day, the innards look a little more appealing. Only a little. There are two stories connected by a rusty stairway. The first floor is an expanse of cement. The second has a bed role, rest room and absolutely nothing else. For the life of her, Ange can’t understand why anyone would live like this.

 

“Shifu!” She scans the floor. A few pillars block her line of sight, but otherwise it’s completely empty. “Shifu, are you here?” Before she can start checking behind them, something heavy impacts her on her back. She falls face first onto the floor with a “WOOF!”

 

“Hello, disciple.” 

 

The cement is cold and unforgiving. From experience, Shifu is worse. 

 

“Shifu,” Ange says into the floor. She presses her hands against the ground and starts to sit up. Somehow, the woman on top of her balances perfectly on her back. “I’ve come for another lesson.”

 

“I see that,” Shifu says, pulling each syllable out with a drawl. A foot plants itself into Ange’s shoulder. She braces her arms. Her Shifu kicks off of her, disappearing before Ange can even turn around. “You don’t usually come to me so early on a weekday.” 

 

There’s the sound of a match striking. The scent of smoldering tobacco starts to fill the building. And despite it all, Ange can’t locate its origin.

 

“I-” Ange looks around wildly. “I couldn’t go to school today.”

 

Bonnie’s at school. If Ange sees her with Brick, she’ll go insane. She feels insane. Her mind is working too fast. Thoughts race by a million miles an hour. Ange can’t catch a single one-

 

The sound of a blade cutting the air makes her hit the deck. It slices over her head. Ange shoves the toe of her chunky sneakers against the floor and rolls forward in time to miss another knife by inches. 

 

Ange scrambles back onto her feet, tracking the origin and finds nothing. How does Shifu do that?

 

“Did you know,” Shifu says. Her voice echoes against the wall, which shouldn’t be possible. “That the easiest way to catch someone by surprise-”

 

Something is coming. Ange tenses, expanding her awareness as much as she can. Still, there’s nothing.

 

“Is to ambush from above.”

 

“WOOF!”

 

Shifu smashes the bottom of her foot into the center of Ange’s spine, forcing her onto the floor. Above Ange, a low laugh fills the room. She tries to brace her hands on the ground. Shifu places her own hand on the back of Ange’s head and forces it into the ground. 

 

“Disciple, tell me why you came to me today.”

 

“To learn, Shifu,” Ange says. The cement is like ice on her cheek. She tries her best not to taste it. “I came to learn!” 

 

“No,” the woman above her says. “That isn’t why you came to me today. ” To express her grievance, she grinds Ange’s head against the floor. It draws a hiss out of Ange’s lips.

 

Ange flexes her neck. Genetically altered strength lets her press her head upwards. It’s like trying to lift a boulder wedged deep into the earth. Shifu lets out a long and impressed whistle and Ange forces herself up onto her knees. A long, boney, and unassumingly formidable arm slides around Ange’s exposed neck. Ange coughs in surprise.

 

She needs to get onto her feet. Down here in the dirt and she’ll lose. 

 

Using nothing but the leverage of her abdominal muscles, she straightens her torso towards the sky. Everything burns. Ange’s vision starts going gray around the edges. She rams a foot into the ground so hard it forces them both upwards. Both hands grip her Shifu’s forearm. Slowly, with grit teeth and more strength than she expected, she starts to pull it away from her throat. That makes her Shifu laugh. 

 

“Finally,” Shifu says, voice pressed right against her ear. A billow of smoke smothers her lungs. “You’re finally impressing me.” 

 

Rage makes her mind cold. Deliberately, Ange pushes herself backwards. It takes ten steps for her to reach one of the warehouse walls. She’s not fast enough.

 

Her Shifu sets a foot against her low back and pushes. Up and over, Shifu swings her entire body. Ange’s back crashes into the wall, then she tips forward. Down they go. For the third time this morning, she’s face first in concrete. Warm blood seeps into her mouth. 

 

Grip weakened, Shifu slips free. She stands over Ange’s prone body and watches Ange recover. A groan. A cough that leaves blood splattered on the floor. Shaking limbs as her disciple pulls herself onto her knees. 

 

“I did come to learn,” Ange says weakly. She wipes her mouth and a smear of red paints her cheek. Her shoulders are hunched over. It takes more effort than she’d like to look up at her Shifu, but it’s not from her injuries. 

 

“I came to learn about pain.” 

 

Her mouth tastes like metal. Every beat of her heart gives her more of it. Ange presses her hand over her chest and wishes she could stop its thrumming. The look of intrigue on her Shifu’s face is the only positive thing in the entire morning.

 

“And how to avoid it.”

 

---

 

Bonnie stares at her phone and the text on it.

 

I can’t come into school today.  

 

It’s not her latest read message, but it feels like the most important one she’s gotten today. Ange, unlike the rest of the entire population of earth probably, loves school. So what could make her avoid it? A part of her, one she doesn’t want to think about, but keeps creeping its way out from behind her mind offers an answer.

 

Is she avoiding me? 

 

Bonnie dismisses it almost immediately. It doesn’t make any sense for Ange to do that. They had a good time last night. Nothing happened that would prompt Ange to skip school. So something important is probably going on in her life. It’s definitely important. Below Ange’s latest text is Bonnie’s reply, unanswered. 

 

Are you okay? 

 

The sound of the other girls arriving in the locker room makes her look up. Bonnie’s already in her cheer uniform. The stadium is cheering off in the distance, muffled by the layers of the building. The second game of the season is going to begin in ten minutes. 

 

“Hi girls,” Bonnie says, forcing a smile onto her face. She gets lovely greetings back, ones that she would normally feed off of. Bonnie snaps her flip phone shut, looking for her least favorite girl on the squad. She needs answers or else she’s going to be in a funk all night. 

 

The moment Kim is in her cheer uniform, Bonnie taps her on the shoulder. Kim looks over her shoulder, spots Bonnie, and stares at her with open distaste. That’s nothing new, and the feeling is mutual. What is new is the undercurrent of disdain in Kim’s green eyes. And, like, Bonnie could even respect it if Kim actually opened her pretty mouth and said something about it. Instead, she waits for Bonnie to speak.

 

“Do you know where Ange is?” Bonnie asks, crossing her arms. Kim raises an eyebrow. For some reason, Kim looks annoyed at the question. Super rude. Bonnie is just worried.

 

“Maybe you should ask her? You’ve got her number.” Kim quips, going back to shoving her things into her locker. Bonnie sets her teeth.

 

“I tried.” She hates admitting it, because it means admitting that Ange hasn’t answered her. “Have you heard from her at all?” 

 

“I’m not her keeper, Bonnie,” Kim scoffs. She glances over her shoulder and pauses. Bonnie quickly twists her face into anger. There’s no way she’s going to show Kim any weaknesses- “She’s training.” Kim says, face maybe just a bit softer. Her eyes are too assessing for Bonnie to feel comfortable. “Don’t worry about it, alright.”

 

Bonnie gives her an unamused stare. Especially when Kim rolls her eyes. Too quickly for Bonnie to react, Kim reaches over and flicks her on the forehead. Bonnie feels her mouth drop in pure offense.

 

“Get your head in the game, B,” Kim says, smirking. She dances away before Bonnie can swing at her. “Whatever funk you’re in, leave it off the field.” It’s annoying that Kim knows her so well. The next words she says actually work. “Or I can carry the weight,” Kim says with a shrug. “It’ll be no big.” 

 

If Bonnie wasn’t about to perform, she’d fantasize about ways to throw Kim off a cliff. There’d be rocks at the bottom. Sharp ones. 

 

---

 

To celebrate the next Maddog victory, the entire football team goes to Patty’s Diner for burgers, milkshake, and so many curly fries. Like, so many. Then they head off to Max’s for their next shindig, as Ange would call it (ironically, but it’s still an awful thing to say and Bonnie hasn’t forgiven her for it). Booze flows like water at Max’s - his parents are alcoholics. Also, they’re not here.

 

Being the girlfriend of the hottest guy in school came with its own set of responsibilities. She’s not about to let him go just because of something as simple and base as sex. Brick is tipsy by the time she finishes him. With her hand, this time, but it’s still pretty gross. He flops onto the bed with a satisfied grin, chest heaving with each breath. Bonnie leans over to rest on it, discretely wiping her hand off on the sheets, and smiles at him. She makes it as gentle as she can manage. Beneath her, Brick practically melts. 

 

“Look at you,” Bonnie purrs, tracing a circle against one of his pectorals with her fingernail. Brick winces a little, so Bonnie uses the pad of her finger instead. Someone who can withstand tackles like nothing shouldn’t be such a wuss. Whatever. “Having a good day, stud?” 

 

“My name’s Brick,” Brick says. Bonnie’s finger pauses as she blinks down at him. “I am, though. We won!” Brick looks as if sunshine became human. He reaches up and clasps his fingers around Bonnie’s, hand so big her entire fist disappears. 

 

It makes Bonnie’s hackles rise. She works hard to keep them down.

 

“Congratulations,” Bonnie says with a sigh. There must be a ray that could boost someone's intelligence. She should ask Ange about it. 

 

“Did you have a good day?” Brick asks her. Slowly, Bonnie nods. It’s a lie. It was an okay day at best, she just doesn’t want to ruin the mood. “That’s great!” Brick squeezes her hand and Bonnie bites her tongue so she doesn’t yell at him. 

 

“How about last night?” 

 

“Oh.” Bonnie pauses, not expecting the question. She thinks back to The Lanterns of Siam . Her and Ange had talked for a long time last night. Far longer than Bonnie had intended. Her Angie was disgustingly good at getting her to open up. In Bonnie’s defense, the dress Ange had worn was very distracting. The way it followed the sweeping lines of Ange’s silhouette had demanded Bonnie’s attention and lowered her guard.

 

Without realizing it, her lips pull into a wide smile. 

 

“That was great. Angie’s really funny. Did you know she likes Broadway?” Bonnie rests her chin against her hand. “I mean, her opinions about musicals could use some work, but it’s still nice to know she has some kind of taste.” Brick listens quietly. Bonnie lets him. “If she acts like that on all her future dates, I think Angie is going to be an amazing girlfriend.” 

 

Ange had even paid for the bill - and liked the concept of paying. Tara’s description of Ange as an odd duck was very apt. Bonnie’s kind of jealous of Riley. How had he managed to snag that girl? Maybe she could get Ange to pay for their next shopping spree. She should see what Ange’s schedule is like in the coming days…

 

Bonnie doesn’t check her phone. Ange still hasn’t replied to her. Bonnie hopes she’s okay.

 

“It sounds like you had a lot of fun,” Brick says. Now he’s smiling gently up at her. Bonnie isn’t sure what to do with the expression, so she settles on nodding in agreement.

 

“I so did.” Maybe she could talk Brick into letting her try out another. 

 

Once doesn’t feel like enough. 

 

---

 

Brick gets home Saturday morning just in time for a heaping portion of freshly made pancakes. His ma, Gracie, walks over and peppers kisses on his face until he starts laughing. 

 

“Ooh, there’s my favorite boy. How was the game? How was the party?” Gracie is as blonde as he is. Charlie says he got his good looks from her too. Brick gives her a big hug, then sits down at the kitchen table.

 

“Ma, we won the game.” 

 

Gracie whoops. From across the table, Charlie pulls the newspaper down enough to give him an approving and prideful nod before going to take a sip of coffee. Black. 

 

Something happy swells around his chest. It makes him sit up straight and roll his shoulders back, just like Charlie taught him to. A drenching of syrup, a huge portion of butter, and an entire pancake gets speared onto Brick’s fork. Right before he shoves it into his mouth, he remembers to bring up that other thing he wanted to talk about.

 

“I think my girlfriend is gay.” 

 

Black coffee spews all over the kitchen table.

 

 

Chapter 67: Chapter 66

“To feel pain is to live,” her Shifu tells her. Smoke floats out between her lips, obscuring her face. Her eyes are as bright as an inferno, the only thing Ange can see. An ancient ivory pipe turns towards the floor. A long and bony finger taps it twice, coaxing ash out of the bowl. Shifu watches as it floats downwards, leaves in the wind. “To avoid it means to die.”

 

When her Shifu deliberately turns her gaze to Ange, every instinct in her body screams. She leaps to the side-

 

Bang

 

Ange stares at the barrel of a smoking gun - Remington eighteen seventy five. There’s a hole in the floor she’d been kneeling on. A bullet is lodged into the shattered concrete. Shifu slides her pistol back inside her oversized shirt.

 

“But you don’t want to die,” Shifu says.

 

“You shot at me!” Ange says in disbelief. Her Shifu smiles monstrously. There is no sympathy in her eyes, only detached amusement. She points towards the large, grimy window letting in the morning light. She points right as the rising sun, then arcs her arm towards the opposite horizon. 

 

“You come to me to learn about pain. I will teach you a lesson on it.” 

 

Like a tensed rabbit, Ange hunches over. Her Shifu watches like the hawk circling above miles and miles of open plains. 

 

“Until the sun sets, run for your life.” Ange coils herself like a spring and concentrates, mapping the entire city of Middleton in her mind. Which directions will lead her to dead ends, which will give her the best opportunity to live. Her shifu taps her chin as a thought comes to her.

 

“We can pause for lunch. Anything in particular you’re craving?”

 

“Thai,” Ange says before she thinks. Her face twists into a self-mocking smile. Shifu hums thoughtfully. 

 

“Good choice.”

 

“Are you going to shoot at me again?”

 

“Not this time,” Shifu says. “Limbs and blades only.”

 

How generous. 

 

“Are vehicles alright?” Ange asks.

 

Her Shifu looks at the bike Ange used to get here. “That only.” 

 

“Are you actually going to kill me?” Ange says. When she speaks, her voice is small and helpless.

 

“If you renounce me as your Shifu, I will not try.” Her Shifu’s voice is light and soft. Ange never expected such an act of care. “I will never teach you again.” 

 

“Okay.” 

 

“For what it’s worth,” Shifu says, bouncing on the balls of her feet. There is almost pride in those sunbright eyes. “I don’t think I’ll catch you.” 

 

And in spite of it all, Ange finds herself smiling. Wide, wild, happy. She digs a foot into the floor and takes off towards the exit, bullet straight. The wind tears at her hair and stings her eyes. It’s autumn now. Cold air fills her lungs. Each exhale is a cloud of steam. 

 

She doesn’t think her Shifu will catch her either. Running has always been one of her greatest talents. 

 

---

 

Saturday morning is when Bonnie gets her reply. Finally.

 

I am alright. Yesterday was hectic. 

 

She stares at the text for a while, trying to figure out what any of it could mean. Kim told her that Ange was training, but that doesn’t make any sense. Ange always knew how to prioritize. She always put school first. So there must have been something else to keep her away. Maybe it was something in the lab, or maybe it was something to do with a mission. Really, though, Bonnie is almost certain that...

 

Did kissing her cross the line? 

 

She’d refused during their game of spin the bottle. Why was Ange okay kissing Tara and not her? 

 

Bonnie rolls off the couch in the living room, which is a novel place for her to be. Since her sisters aren’t here, she’s determined to enjoy the rest of the house. She would be enjoying it, except she’s really fucking good at fucking up everything she touches, apparently. 

 

She needs to stop thinking about this or she’ll drive herself insane. It’s seven thirty four. Way too early to bother any of her friends. 

 

She cinches her pointe shoes on and heads towards the basement. If she wants to stay at the top of her class, she needs to practice more than the others. Clara always said that practice makes perfect, and that perfection is achievable. 

 

Anyone who said otherwise is just making excuses.

 

---

 

She’s the first one to make it to Ange’s locker today. To her surprise, Ange isn’t the first one to find her as she waits, leaning against the wall. It’s not even Donavan. It’s Brick. It’s a little disorientating. Bonnie didn’t expect to see him so soon. She plasters a smile on her face, making it look real.

 

“Brickie!” Bonnie says as he lumbers over. Brick gives her a pleased smile. Instead of going in for a hug (thank you) he reaches out and takes her hand. He’s so huge, one of his fingers is as thick as two of hers. If he was careless, he could probably squeeze hard enough to hurt her. She dismisses the thought. 

 

Brick isn’t that kind of man. Maybe. 

 

He’s not the smartest, or the most meticulous. Bonnie reaches up and wipes some crumbs off of his jersey. 

 

“I was wondering where you go every morning,” Brick says, looking at the locker she’s leaning on. “It’s really nice to see you. Who are we waiting for?” 

 

“Brick?” Donavan’s voice says, making them both jump. Brick turns around. If he had a tail, Bonnie is pretty sure it’d be wagging right now.

 

“Donavan!” he calls out, letting Bonnie’s hand go to sweep Donavan up into a hug. Donavan lets out a little wheeze, taken clear off his feet. Bonnie stares at the two. When the hell did they become friends? “Bro, did you come to the game on Friday? Was I cool? Tell me I was cool.”

 

Donavan lets out another wheeze. 

 

“Oh, right.” Brick sets the poor boy back down, then claps Donavan on the back, accidentally hard enough to send him stumbling a few steps forward. Bonnie lets out a little snicker at his plight. 

 

Once recovered, Donavan shoots her a grumpy look. He straightens out to his full height of five-feet something-inches. Almost as tall as Bonnie. “I don’t usually go to sports events,” he says, adjusting his thick glasses. Brick wilts like a dying flower. It makes Donavan regard him for a moment. “However, I can clear time from my schedule this Friday.”

 

“Isn’t time already clear, though?”   

 

Bonnie stares at Brick. Donavan contemplates the question. 

 

“Technically. It depends on what you’re referring to as time. The hands of a clock are visible, the concept of time is only a concept. Measuring time as an object moving through the universe is visible both visually and mathematically.”

 

Bonnie stares at Donavan now. Brick looks fascinated by Donavan’s lecture.

 

“Are we talking about time?” Ange’s voice calls out. All three of them jump. Despite the collar on her neck (Bonnie stares at that, too), she’s completely silent now. Blue eyes crinkle with amusement. “That’s a good summary, Donavan.”

 

“I know,” Donavan says. Yet his lips twitch upwards into a smile and he stands a little straighter. Then he gets a good look at her. “Hey-” His hands shake. “What happened to you?” 

 

That gets Bonnie to look past Ange’s leather clad neck. A gash stretches from the middle of her cheek out towards her ear, which has a nick on it. Four suture bandages are keeping the cut closed. Bonnie’s throat is filled with cotton. 

 

“Oh, Friday got hectic,” Ange says. Before she can brush it off any further, Bonnie walks over and grabs her by the chin. Ange is very strong, but she still lets Bonnie walk her backwards until she’s against the wall. Bonnie tilts Ange’s chin down so she can get a better look. Her eyebrows furrow.

 

“Doesn’t that hurt?” Bonnie murmurs. 

 

“I’m a masochist, remember?” Ange replies, just as softly. Abruptly, Bonnie realizes Ange is staring at her. She’s too worried to care about what Ange sees. Then she wonders about what she can’t see.

 

“Do you have any other injuries?” 

 

Her Angie blinks once. It’s the only tell. Bonnie narrows her eyes, furious that Ange would try and hide it from her. Bonnie leans in close enough that she can feel Ange’s breath against her lips. 

 

“Show. Me.” Bonnie hisses, setting her teeth. The jaw in her hand shivers. Ange’s ocean eyes look around the hallway.

 

“Not here. Later,” Ange says. She grips her long fingers delicately around Bonnie’s wrist and pulls her hand down. If it were anyone else - except maybe Tara - Bonnie would have decked them. How dare Ange try and withhold anything from her. 

 

“Now,” Bonnie all but growls. 

 

Four notes save Ange from having to respond. 

 

From an outside pocket of her backpack, Ange pulls out her Kimmunicator. Bonnie glares at it as Ange turns it on.

 

“Go, Wade.” 

 

“Ange, Dr. Drakken is- Oh, uh, hi Bonnie?” Wade looks incredibly startled to see her. 

 

“Hi,” Bonnie says, scowling as hard as she can. Even through the screen of a computer, Wade flinches. If she wasn’t so mad she’d find that satisfying. “Make this quick, please. We’re kind of in the middle of a conversation.”

 

“Bonnie, that’s not very nice,” Ange says, tone gently amused. Bonnie glares at her now, but Ange doesn’t seem bothered by it. “What? I said please.” 

 

“Dr. Drakken,” Wade continues, clearly wanting to leave this conversation, “broke out of prison yesterday.” Ange nods, prompting him along. “He actually put a hit on Kim’s website telling us his location.” Wade’s voice sounds a little unsure. 

 

“He’s goading us,” Ange summarizes. 

 

“Kim thought so too.”

 

“Alright, where’s my ride-” Bonnie shoves a fingernail into Ange’s side. “-ouch! Bonnie?!” 

 

“Why the fuck,” Bonnie shoves a hand over Ange’s mouth before she has to live with one of Ange’s reprimands. “Are you going to meet some super villain that wants you to visit? This is obviously a trap, Angie.” Ange lets her eyelids slide halfway shut, deadpan. Bonnie makes sure Ange is going to be normal before she lifts her hand up.

 

“Language,” Ange says. 

 

Motherfucker, Bonnie thinks. 

 

“We still have to go and stop him,” Ange explains. She lifts a hand up and grabs Bonnie’s next fingernail stab without looking away from Bonnie’s face. “Or else he’ll do something worse to someone else.” 

 

“That is not your job!” She bullies her hand free from Ange’s grip to grab her collar. White hot rage makes her arms shake. “You can let someone else do it!”

 

In front of her, right in front of her, Ange’s face goes so soft it makes Bonnie’s face slacken in surprise. “Are you worried about me, Bonnie?” 

 

There’s too much being exposed right now. Bonnie jerks Ange’s collar punishingly. Ange is still looking at her delicately. “Who would be worried about you?!!”

 

Carefully, Ange pries Bonnie off of her shirt. Gently, she steps sides and away, so she’s no longer pinned against the lockers. “I promise to be cautious.” She gives Bonnie one last smile before she turns away to grab her mission gear. Bonnie stares at her mutely. “Dr. Drakken won’t hurt me anyway,” Ange says, hiking her pack over her shoulder. “Probably.” 

 

Then she leaves, just like that. Gone, with only a nod to the three of them. Bonnie can hear her pick her conversation with Wade back up as she starts jogging down the corridor. The sound of students making their way to class fills the halls.

 

Bonnie watches her go and wishes she was brave enough to ask Ange to stay. 

 

---

 

When Ange gets onto their train to Idaho (maybe Dr. Drakken wants to do some potato based experiments) she picks a corner far from Kim, Ron, and Rufus and sits with her legs crossed. The look on her face is enough to keep the boys away, but not her sister. 

 

Kim settles beside her and waits. Half way through their journey, Ange finally breaks. 

 

“How am I supposed to get over her when she cares so much?” The train is so loud, and her voice is so weak, it’s almost inaudible. Kim has always had sharp ears. She places her hand on top of Ange’s. It’s warm. 

 

“You can’t bring yourself to ignore her, huh,” Kim says. There’s a bemused smile on her adorable face. Ange gives her a rueful one. 

 

“It wouldn’t be fair to her if I withdrew just because of my preferences.” 

 

That gets Kim to snort. Once, and angrily. Her eyebrows pull down dangerously.  “What about what’s fair to you?”

 

Ange can’t bring herself to look at Kim. 

 

Instead, she looks at the deep, ink-shadows of the train’s cargo hold. The cut on her cheek is healing, but it still hurts. So do the other wounds on her torso and leg. She flexes the muscles there, using pain to ground herself. 

 

She could tell Kim that she doesn’t care about what’s fair to herself. She could tell Kim that she doesn’t matter, not really. She could tell Kim a lot of things, and all of it would be right. But it wouldn’t be true. The truth isn’t something Ange dares say out loud, because saying it aloud makes it real. And the truth is something awful, scary, and dark.  

 

The truth is this: 

 

Ange is a bad and selfish person.

 

She doesn’t ever want to let Bonnie go. 

 

She wants to possess her.

Chapter 68: Chapter 67

The Idaho evil base is a giant potato.

 

Ron is the first one to notice. He kept himself busy avoiding Ange’s dark gaze and Kim’s worried fretting by looking at the miles and miles and hours and hours of flat, potato farm land. Then he saw a giant potato crest the horizon. “Rufus, is that what I think it is?”

 

Rufus, a hyper intelligent naked mole rat, looks at the horizon with squinted eyes. Then he shrugs. Naked mole rats are not known for their excellent vision. They’re subterranean creatures.

 

Ron shrugs back. “Hey KP?” Ron says, not looking away from the approaching blob of... potato.

 

“What is it, Ron?” Kim says. 

 

“I think I see Drakken’s base.” Kim gets up to look at what Ron is looking at. She’s not sure what to say. The two of them stare at it in mutual confusion. 

 

“Do you think it’s real?” Ron asks. Then he slaps his knee and groans. “Oh man, we should have saved some cheese from that other base he used. I would love a cheesy potato right now.”

 

“Do you think about anything other than food?” Kim says. Ron looks at her.

 

“Do you really want to know?”

Kim pauses, confused. “Yeah, why not?”

 

“Well, there’s Sheelah of the Leopard People. She lives rent free in my head.” 

 

“What?”

 

“Good choice,” Wade chimes in through the Kimmunicator. “She’s a baddie.” 

 

“What?” Kim says, even more confused. “Of course she’s a baddie. In episode five, she ate every single tuna in the Serpent Sea.”

 

Then she gets it, and pulls a face. “Ew. Don’t be gross, guys.”

 

“You asked, Kim,” Ron says. “I’m a teenage boy. This is a very exploratory time of my life.”

 

Wade, from the Kimmunicator, makes a noise of agreement. 

 

“Is that a giant potato?” Ange says. The conversation had sparked her curiosity enough to walk over, but the giant potato shaped structure was more interesting than Sheelah of the Leopard People. Even if she is a baddie (and she is a spankin’ baddie. Woof). 

 

Kim is infinitely thankful for the subject change. “I think Drakken needs better taste in lairs.”

 

“Potatoes are yummy, though,” Ange and Ron say at the exact same time. They glance at each other before looking back at Kim. Ange holds her hand out. Ron smacks a high five into it. Kim pinches the bridge of her nose. 

 

“Focus, people.” She looks back at the potato of magnitude. “Wade, what’s the best approach?” 

 

“From my scans, the entire building is potato.” Ange takes a moment to marvel at that. It’s not any weirder for Kim and Ron than the cheese building in Wisconsin, so they don't. “In theory, you could just cut your way in anywhere. Kim, if you check your pack, I sent you a laser stick with an extra battery.” Kim opens up her backpack to find the device. A single handed cylindrical handle. “It should be more than enough to get you through the walls.”

 

When Kim turns it on, a green, arching, and straight laser shoots out from one end, about three and a half feet long.

 

“You got Kim a lightsaber?!” Ron yells. Kim gives it a few experimental swishes. It hums electrically with every movement. “Did you get me a lightsaber?”

 

“Sorry Ron,” Wade says. “I only had time to make one.” He doesn't say that he doesn't trust Ron with it. Ange is looking at the device closely. He doesn't say that he doesn't trust her either. 

 

“Man,” Ron pouts. “Kim, can I have a turn after the mission?”

 

“Maybe,” Kim says. Every time she swings her saber, the grin on her face gets wider. “Wade, this is ferociously cool. Thanks.”

 

“Anytime. There's only about twenty minutes of charge in the thing, so don't have too much fun with it.” 

 

“Ten-four, Wade.” Kim says, having too much fun with it already. As the most responsible one of the group, she still manages to turn her saber off and tuck it into a loop of her utility belt. The smile stays plastered onto her face. This thing is ferociously cool. 

 

“Alright, guys.” She claps her hands together, then rubs them in anticipation. The look in her eyes is predatory. Her teeth bare when she speaks. “Let's go kick Drakken’s butt.” 

 

---

 

Cutting through the potato lair is easy. Getting Ron, and Ange, who is endlessly hungry after her genome experiment, to stop eating the baked potato goodness Kim leaves in her wake is harder. Seriously, Rufus has a stash of sour cream and diablo sauce in one of Ron’s pockets. It’s an entire meal. 

 

Maybe Kim has a few bites. To keep her energy up. 

 

Since the giant potato lair is a giant potato, there aren’t any corners. Kim guides them towards one of the farther areas of the base. She drills out a hole behind a bunch of crates and stows away her lightsaber. The group of four (Rufus counts) hide behind them as they assess the situation. 

 

Dr. Drakken is in the middle of the lair, typing something into a computer and looking at an oversized screen. Ange would probably know what that’s about. The henchmen are congregated at the far end. One of them is wearing a chef’s hat. Kim is pretty certain she smells french fries. 

 

Shego is lounging on a steel chair, flipping through a magazine. Kim stares at her and wishes her chest would stop hurting. 

 

“Angie, you’re up.” Kim whispers. Behind her, Ange turns towards the potato walls and starts climbing. She’s fast, very fast. Almost as fast as Kim. Ange makes it to the ceiling in under a minute, then she jams the head of her grapple gun deep into potato flesh and drops down. 

 

“HI, DR. DRAKKEN!” Ange yells, making him jump a few feet into the air. Even Shego startles a little. It makes Kim bite her lip. She ducks behind the crate when Shego starts looking around, no doubt scanning for her. 

 

“Ron, can you go find the self destruct?” 

 

“Do you think they’ll share their fries with me?” Ron asks, then grimaces when Kim glares at him. “I’ll go looking.” Less subtle, but still quite fast, Ron starts a sprint across the potato floor. Kim notices he’s heading for the fryer and decides to pick and choose her battles. 

 

Now it’s her turn. Kim takes a deep breath, then darts the opposite direction. Hugging the walls as stealthily as she can, she circles the lair. Shego is pivoting between looking at Ange and Drakken having their conversation (it is still ferociously weird how well those two get along) and scanning the lair. First the floor, then the walls and ceiling. Maybe Kim should get into that habit. 

 

Kim grabs her grapple, aims it high and fires. The powerful engine sends her flying into the air. Adrenaline brings her to life, slowing down her perception of time enough that she can see when Shego catches sight of her. 

 

Electric green eyes go wide. Killer instincts are the only thing that save her from a foot to her face. Shego leaps to the side. The sole of Kim’s foot smashes into the floor.

 

More like squishes. Kim pulls another face.

 

“Time out!” Kim says. Shego, half way through a punch, stops in her tracks. It... Well, the fact that Shego listens to her kind of makes her feel powerful. “Can we fight over there?” Kim points at the death ray. It’s so heavy that a metal plate had been installed into the floor to house it. In the entire lair, it’s the only hard, structural surface. 

 

“Thank god,” Shego says. “I swear, I’m going to force a vacation out of Drakken. This lair is gross.”

 

“Shego!” Dr. Drakken, some feet away, gasps. “That’s not very nice! I made this for the henchmen.” He gestures at the henchmen, who are still making batches and batches of fries. Ron is in line with a plate, having a conversation with the guys in front and behind him. Kim shares a glance with Shego, who looks very tired. It’s relatable. Kim also feels tired. 

 

“Drakken, with this technology, you could cure world hunger,” Kim points out. Drakken just stares at her blankly.

 

“I don’t want to cure world hunger,” he says. “I want to take over the world!” With a puffed up chest, he grins. “After I’m King Supreme, I’ll do all that.” 

 

“That’s a cool title,” Ange says from beside him. It makes Drakken preen like a peacock. 

 

“...” Kim looks at Shego helplessly. Shego just nods.

 

“Lets not think about it too hard. Less talky, more fighty.” That, Kim can live with. She takes off at a sprint towards the death ray, launching herself as fast as a rocket. “Hey-!” Shego yelps, then speeds after her. Over Kim’s shoulder, she can see Shego gaining on her with the intensity of a lion chasing its prey. 

 

Kim isn’t prey. 

 

Her foot hits solid ground. She springs into the air, high enough that Shego flies past right underneath her. Kim snaps her shoulders to the right, spinning her entire body until her shin connects with the side of Shego’s head. It jerks back. A wave of luscious black hair floats around her.

 

When Kim lands, she’s already preparing for Shego’s counter strike. She drops low to the ground. Plasma singes a hole against the back of her compression shirt. Pushing off her leg lets her avoid another bolt of electric green just in time. It’s so close, her cargo pants burst into flames. Kim puts it out with a kick against Shego’s side, smothering them in strong ribs.

 

Shego barely flinches. She wraps an arm around Kim’s leg, staring down at Kim with a predator’s smile. There’s just enough time for Kim to shiver before Shego moves. 

 

Inhuman strength, a perfect half circular arc, and a quiet grunt all send Kim flying through the air. Her back connects with the metal chassis of Drakken’s newest death ray. Pain blooms against her shoulder blades. Kim raises her arms and pushes her wrist against the side of Shego’s knee. It’s just enough to guide it away from her stomach and into the solid surface behind her. She can feel the steel vibrate on her back from Shego's force.

 

Forest and neon green eyes lock together. Violent electricity passes between their gazes. Kim jams her elbow into Shego’s liver before Shego can pin her. It makes the woman stumble back a few steps. 

 

Just a few steps.

 

If Kim wasn’t constantly seconds away from death, she’d marvel at how quickly Shego recovers. Kim’s punch gets blocked by a palm. Her follow up gets pushed to the side. Kim is forced to dodge underneath a kick, then above another. Plasma heats the air around them as Shego slices four lines against the skin of Kim’s ribs. Anyone else would have flinched. Kim just launches her fist into Shego’s pretty mouth. 

 

Blood seeps out between Shego’s teeth when she smiles. Green eyes glow underneath the shadow of her eye sockets. Kim’s heart aches.

 

This is taking too long. Kim kicks herself into a backwards handspring, forcing distance between them. Shego lets her, watching calmly and patiently for Kim to get back onto her feet. It’s a mistake.

 

When Kim stands back up, she pulls the hilt of her laser out of her utility belt and flips its switch. A low and dangerous hum fills the air between them. Kim watches Shego’s eyes go wide. This time, she smiles. 

 

The saber sings as she flicks her wrist in a circle beside her. Green light cuts the air. Shego activates her plasma, lets it lick up her forearms. But her face is set in a worried frown. 

 

“What the hell have you got there, Princess?” Shego says, crouching and ready.

 

Kim rolls her shoulders, then brings her laser blade into a guard. “Nothing special, Shego.” Kim doesn’t recognize her voice. It’s never sounded so treacherous. “Just thought I’d put myself on more even footing. It’ll be less humiliating for you when I win. Again.”

 

Shego snorts. Her eyes flicker from Kim’s blade to her face. She lowers herself to the ground, then pushes herself forward. Green light on green light, green eyes on green eyes. Plasma sparks against laser blades. 

 

Maybe if Kim fights hard enough, she’ll finally be able to ignore the pain pressing up against the underside of her ribs. At this point, she’s willing to do almost anything to make it stop.

 

She just wants to make it stop. 

 

---

 

One of the henchmen is kind enough to bring Dr. Drakken and Ange a serving each of french fries. Ange munches on one as she goes over the datasets and corresponding essay on Drakken’s monitor. 

 

“So this ray gigantifies everything?” Ange asks. Dr. Drakken nods beside her. On his hip is a ray gun, but he hasn’t drawn it once, so Ange lets it be for now. “Where does the extra matter come from?”

 

“It takes it out of the air and nearby soil.” Dr. Drakken leans over her shoulder to point at a particular dataset. “If there are no similar atoms nearby, it makes the results unstable.” The grin he gives her shows off his white, crooked teeth. “That just makes it more fun.”

 

“So, that’s what that ray does,” Ange says, pointing at the giant ray in the middle of the lair. “How does a ray that makes things big help you take over the world?”

 

Dr. Drakken has black eyes. They’re as dark as coal. As dark as the void as space. They catch the light and bead it back out. He stares at her with them. 

 

“What do you think happens if I use this on a human?” 

 

Ange gazes back. Horror and intrigue clash inside her head. She eats another fry.

 

“Who would be the first person you shoot?” 

 

“Kim Possible,” Dr. Drakken says. Ange spits out her half eaten fry and grabs him by the collar. 

 

Even though Dr. Drakken is bigger and taller than her, genetically altered strength means she can pull him very, very close. Close enough that they’re face to face. Their noses touch. He lets out a surprised little squawk, then stills when he catches sight of Ange’s expression.

 

“Dr. Drakken,” Ange whispers to him. Her eyes aren’t black. They’re blue, as dark and deep as the ocean. Colder than any glacier. “If you ever kill my sister, I will make sure you live for a very long time.” 

 

“Promise?” Drakken growls in delight. Ange snarls, then pushes him away. He stumbles several steps away, squishing the potato floor under his heavy boots. “My, my, Ange, my dear,” Drakken says, straightening out and folding his arms behind his back. “You would make a wonderful villain. Are you sure you don’t want to be my intern?” 

 

Instead of answering, she puts her fingers to Drakken’s keyboard and starts flipping through all his files. Shrink rays, mind control, emotional dysregulation, incinerator beams, a machine that cuts open the fabric of reality to alternate universes, lasers so powerful they could punch a hole through the sun, more, more, more. How many ideas does this man have? And he’s only one of the villains Kim fights on a weekly basis. Ange needs to get faster, exponentially. 

 

“If not Kim, obviously I would aim it at the President,” Drakken says. His voice is a low purr behind her. Ange can hear him pace, but she’s more focused on memorizing everything she sees. “It would shake the modern world. The leader of the strongest country to ever exist, growing larger than life.” He laughs, and it’s insane. “Only to cave in on himself. People would finally take me seriously.” His laughter turns into a cackle. It’s loud and uneven.

 

Then he breathes in too quickly.

 

Dr. Drakken doubles over in an explosion of wet coughs. Angelus pauses her browsing to look back at him. She’s graced with the sight of the most insane and dangerous man she’s ever met gasping for air. Spittle hangs from his loose lips. He clutches his knees to keep himself standing.

 

“Ough, that hurts,” Drakken whines once he’s somewhat recovered. His eyes are wet, his mouth is pulled into a pout. “Ouchie.” His hand rubs at the small of his back. He lets out a pitiful whimper. “I think I hurt something.”

 

Angelus turns back to the computer. She’s just finished plugging a USB from her watch into a port when Shego’s voice calls out. 

 

“Dr. D!” There’s a surprising amount of worry in it. The two turn to see Shego jumping over, then under, then away from the graceful and deadly arcs of Kim’s saber. “Either get on with it or gimme a hand!” 

 

Angelus’ instincts activate. She pivots on her heel.

 

“Oh, right,” Drakken says. He pulls the ray gun from his belt and aims. Ange hurtles herself towards him. Kim would have been fast enough.

 

Ange isn’t. She only makes it half way, and she can only watch, helplessly slow compared to the speed of light.

 

An orange beam strikes its target, washing over Kim. Ange hears her gasp, sees her convulse. All the blood in Ange’s veins, every vein, turns to ice. A laser saber falls onto the only metal surface in the lair with a clatter. Shego makes sure to shatter it underneath her foot. Kim doubles over, then falls to her knees.

 

“Thank you!” Shego says. Dr. Drakken feels the force of a genetically altered, enraged teenage girl plow directly into his side. 

 

Ange works quickly, throwing her legs over him and gripping his face in one of her hands. She smashes it into the floor. The fact that it’s raw, soft, and squishy potato flesh is the only reason she doesn’t crack hairline fractures into his stupid skull.

 

“What did you do!?” 

 

“Ow, ow, ow, ow, Ange, that really hurts!” Drakken yells. Ange seethes. Cold, cold, cold rackets chains around every single one of her thoughts and movements. Deliberately, her grip on his face tightens. Maybe she can break something with her strength alone-

 

“I’m okay,” Kim says. Ange looks up to see her struggling back onto her feet. “All good. No big.” Relief makes her weak. Ange’s hand falls off Drakken’s face, slack. A large, dark, five fingered bruise stays embedded into his skin. Dr. Drakken has big tears in his black eyes. 

 

“Cool.” Ange pulls herself off of Drakken. Her hands are shaking. She clenches them into fists but it doesn’t stop. “Cool, cool, cool, cool.” She swallows, then takes a deliberately calming breath. Let all of your emotions wash over you, Shifu’s memory tells her. Then let them go.

 

Water on a rock. Ange becomes human again. 

 

As Kim and Shego pick their fight back up, Ange offers her hand to Drakken. He stares at it with wide and unsure puppy eyes. It would be infuriating if Ange was letting herself feel anything but detached nothing. “I’m sorry, Dr. Drakken,” Ange says. She lets her voice sound genuinely remorseful. “I got really emotional. Can you forgive me?”

 

 After a moment, Dr. Drakken places a large gloved hand onto hers. She pulls him up effortlessly. 

 

“That was scary,” Drakken says. Ange doesn’t let anything show. 

 

“I’ll try not to do it again.”

 

“Great!” Drakken immediately breaks into a grin. Once again, Ange marvels at how quickly his mood can change. Then she thinks that perhaps she’s not as stable as she thinks she is. Then Shego lands a punch right on Kim’s face. Then Kim stumbles backwards and says-  

 

“FUCK!”

 

Then everyone in the giant potato lair pauses in surprise, staring at the world famous Kim Possible as she clutches her adorable face and jumps around in circles. Even Shego doesn’t seem to know how to handle this. Holding her cheek, Kim gives Shego a look of accusatory and complete betrayal.

 

“Shego!”

 

Kim takes a few deep breaths. 

 

“Shit, that really fucking hurt!” 

 

Chapter 69: Chapter 68

Ange points an accusing forefinger at her eldest, bestest, cutest sister in the world with complete and utter horror. She inhales deeply, wide eyed and a little scared. Then, as loud as she can manage, she yells out mightily, “You swore!” 

 

Kim looks at Ange, more than a little annoyed. “So what?!” Then she pauses. “Wait, I swore.” Kim, the eldest, bestest, cutest sister in the world starts to look panicked. “Why did I do that?”

 

“Drakken!” Ange whirls back to a blue man with a hand print bruised right into his cheek. Ange is too scandalized to enjoy it. “What did you hit her with?! What does that ray do?”

 

“This?” Drakken holds up his ray gun. He rubs the barrel of it with pride. “This took a long time to get right. I had to steal the Perpetual Contra Analyzer from Beijing myself!” 

 

“Actually, that was me,” Shego says. An amused lilt drips into her voice. She’s eyeing Kim up and down. With assessment, she continues. “I did that. Kim, say cunt.”

 

“Cunt,” Kim says. She slaps both her hands over her mouth. Her face goes bright red the way only a ginger can. She shoots Shego an offended look, then springs forward to lob a kick at the thief’s head. Shego bends her knees and lets it fly over her.

 

“Shego! Let's not argue about semantics!” Drakken looks annoyed, maybe even a little embarrassed to be caught in a lie. 

 

“Just keeping you honest.”

 

Ange is too busy thinking to pay attention. The PCA influences emotional regulation .Ange walks over to the computer Drakken has in his lair and pulls out her USB. There’s a file on emotional dysregulation in this very device. 

 

“Did you… change my sister’s psychological profile?” Ange places her USB into one of her pockets. 

“Oh, nothing so dramatic,” Drakken says, laughing. Some of the anger freezing her heart boils away. Then he pauses, rubbing his chin. “That is a good idea though.” 

 

“No,” Ange says.

 

Drakken blinks at her, sees the apocalyptic, controlled rage in her eyes, and thinks better about pushing the point. He hides his ray gun behind his back and pretends it’s not there. “I just took away all of her impulse control!” 

 

“Oh,” Ange says. That isn’t as bad as she thought. “I guess that’s okay-” She looks over at Kim and Shego. Kim, who is mid full body tackle, and Shego, who is casually side stepping her. Ange (and Shego) both watch as Kim lands with a roll, looks around, wipes herself off and starts walking towards the fryers. 

 

“Hi, guys!” Kim calls out, voice fading as she walks farther away. “Can I have some?” 

 

Ange feels her mouth drop open. Besides her, Drakken bounces on his feet, giggling. “Oh, I knew the french fry plan would work!” He claps his hands as he says it. How devious. Ange regards the blue man for a moment.

 

He’s so stupid, she forgot he’s brilliant. 

 

“Uh… So, what happens now?”

 

Drakken looks at her with a smile. Foreboding drains the blood in Ange’s face. “Well my dear, now I hit the President with my gigantification beam!” He whips his finger out to point at Shego. “Warm her up, Shego! Let’s get cooking before the PCA wears off.”

 

With a flick of her wrist, Shego salutes Drakken. Then, she leaps up the metal platform and clambers into the seat of the death ray of horrifying capabilities. “You got it, bossman.” 

 

Uh oh. Ange looks around. The henchmen are happily piling a heaping portion of fries onto a greasy paper plate for Kim. Ron is half way through his plate. Rufus seems to be in a coma. His stomach is bulging a worrying amount. Shego is pressing buttons on the gigantification beam. Drakken is tippy tapping a happy circle into the giant potato floor.

 

This is up to her now. 

 

“Ron!” Ange says, loud enough to break through the buzz of conversation at one end of the potato. He looks up from his plate, a fistful of ketchup drenched fries halfway to his face. Ange breaks into a sprint towards Shego. Her feet squish raw potato juice with every step. Gross. “Take care of Drakken, will you?”

 

“Aw man, can it wait? Fresh fries are the best-”

 

“Ron!” Half way across the floor, Ange glares at him so fiercely he jumps into action. 

 

“On it!” He squeaks. Then he shoves as many fries into his mouth as he can and starts towards Drakken. Somehow, Ange has to trust that Ron will do what must be done. If he’s good enough for Kim to trust, she’ll do the same. Reluctantly. 

 

Kim, who was just about to sit down next to her best friend, looks devastated as he runs off. Then she chomps on a fry and forgets about it. 

 

Using genetically altered strength, the moment Ange’s foot hits metal, she springs herself into the air. She sails through open space, waving her arms and legs around to orient herself. Her aim is true. With a heavy thump - and a ring of her collar, dangit - Ange lands on all fours atop the barrel of the gigantification beam. She stares down the length of it into electric green eyes. Ange pushes herself onto her feet, crouching low. Shego, one of the most dangerous people in the world, slowly stands up.

 

“Dorkius Maximus,” Shego says. Ange’s lip twitches. That’s actually a good one. “Finally learn how to fight?”

 

“No,” Ange says. 

 

Shego cocks one of her beautiful eyebrows up. For a moment, she looks offended - which is scary. Then, she looks predatorily gleeful - which is scarier. Her lips pull back into a dreadful smile, showing off her sharp, white teeth. “I hope you like smoothies, kid.” Casually, she leaps over the dashboard of the beam and onto its barrel. “Because you’re gonna eat out of a straw for the rest of your life.” 

 

“Don’t do that,” Ange says, watching as Shego gracefully walks up the tilted barrel. Once she’s a reasonable distance away, Shego stops and falls into a low, wide stance. Pubu, because she has the low ground. “I’m just a little guy.” Ange mentally pats herself on the back when Shego looks vaguely amused. 

 

For a moment, there’s nothing but two women regarding each other. 

 

Movement.

 

Shego explodes forwards and up, eating the distance between them in only two long strides. Ange pushes herself backwards fast enough to avoid a high, open palmed strike. She can’t stop. The next one is already coming. Shego’s foot slices through the air. Ange steps back twice and feels the wind whip across her face. 

 

Neither of their footsteps make sound as Shego forces Ange higher and higher along the barrel of the death ray. It’s not a scramble, but a steady, deliberate upwards pace. Each strike just barely slides past her. Ange only has so much ground to work with, she needs to use every inch of space she has. Ange jumps above a kick. A clawed glove just knicks the flesh of a forearm. A drop of blood splatters onto their ground.

 

Suddenly, Shego lunges forwards. 

 

Last Friday, Ange spent every sunlit hour of the day (besides lunch) sprinting, dodging, and hiding for her life. Her time spent with Shifu, every bit of it, was spent getting beaten down and rebuilt into a better image of herself. Instincts Ange didn’t know she has activate. 

 

In tandem, she steps to the side right into open air and reaches into her utility belt. From Ange’s view, as she drops down, Shego’s form gets obscured by the round metal barrel of Drakken’s death ray. The claw of Ange’s grapple shoots straight upwards and digs into the potato ceiling. 

 

Shego almost slices the wire. Instinct makes her hesitate. When the grapple gun crests back into view, no one is holding it. Shego pushes a foot into the ground and leaps back down the barrel. Mid air, she flips herself over to watch.

 

On the other end of the cylinder, Ange rockets up and over. Her arms are long enough and her strength is powerful enough that she’s able to hold her own bodyweight by hugging the circumference of the barrel. No one is there to feel the impact of her extended foot. Ange scrambles back for solid footing, looking around wildly. First up the barrel. Nothing but open air. Then, down the barrel. A fist is flying right at her-

 

“Augh!” 

 

For a second time, inhuman strength sends Ange flying through the air. She arcs downwards, forearms still crossed over her chest. They throb in pain, but it’s worth it. They're the only reason she doesn’t have a broken rib, probably. Her back impacts with the wet potato floor with such force she skids for what seems like forever. Raw potato juice splashes in her wake. 

 

“Augh…” Ange says, too dazed to even be grossed out. Slowly, she sits up. Two feet, one green, one black, touch down on either side of her waist. Ange blinks up at the potato sky and sees Shego’s glowing eyes staring down at her. “Uh oh.” 

 

Dangerous, sultry laughter sounds above her. Desperately, Ange whips her head this way and that, looking for anything that can help her. In the distance, Kim is shoving a huge fist full of french fries, Ron style, into her mouth. The henchmen are cheering her on. She seems to be on her third plate. Rufus is there, wiggling. Shego had punched her with such force that Ange had landed by the computer. The PCA ray gun is on the floor. Dr. Drakken and Ron are slapping each other beside the computer- 

 

“What the heck?” Ange says before she can stop herself. Shego pauses to follow Ange’s line of sight. Drakken and Ron are indeed slapping each other. Their arms are extended, hands flapping up and down. Their faces are turned away, eyes closed to protect their vital points. Every once and a while, one of them goes “owie” or “ouchie.”

 

Shego sighs with exasperation. “Don’t pay attention to them. They do that all the time,” she says, turning back to stare down the barrel of Dr. Drakken’s PCA ray gun. “Aw, crap-”

 

A beam of orange light washes over her. Shego falls to her knees, convulsing. Ange scrambles back onto her feet, panting with relief. She watches, waits, and is rewarded with Shego recovering in only seconds.

 

“Alright, Dorkinator, you asked for it-”

 

“Do you want some french fries?!” Ange asks very quickly. She points towards the fryer. The smell has been particularly tempting this entire mission.

 

Shego looks at it, then gets back onto her feet and wipes herself off. Without a word, she ambles towards the fried potato goodness. 

 

“Oh thank god.” This time, Ange laughs with relief. She feels as light as a feather, like she could float away at the slightest gust of wind. Ange holsters her pilfered gun.

 

“Hey!” Drakken says. When Ange looks at him, Drakken and Ron are a few paces from each other, clutching sore wrists. “You can’t do that! That was my plan!” Ange beams at him, still running off the high of surviving a Shego related incident. 

 

“I just learned from the best!” she sing-songs, almost skipping over to Drakken. He looks appropriately mollified. Still a little pouty, though.

 

“Well, what do we do now?” Dr. Drakken says. Ron, looking between the two, then back at the tables of henchmen and the load of fries, shrugs his shoulders.

 

“Wanna go get lunch?” 

 

“I guess I am kind of hungry,” Drakken mutters. “Okay!” Drakken throws a fist into the air. “I have come up with a plan, buffoon.” The subsequent ‘hey’ from Ron is ignored. “We, two geniuses and a strange little man, shall sup upon the crispiest of french fries.”

 

“That was my plan!” Ron says.

 

Grinning, a little manic still, Ange turns to the tables.

 

---

 

Shego sets her paper plate of heaping fries down next to Kim. The glare she throws at all the henchmen is dangerous enough to make them move to another table. She’s trained them to be very obedient.

 

“Hi, Shego,” Kim says after swallowing her latest fistfull of fries. That sounds like a good idea, so Shego shovels a bunch of them into her mouth. 

 

“Hhmmf,” Shego replies, mouth full. She starts the long process of chewing. Kim smiles quite happily at her. It’s adorable. When was the last time someone looked so happy to see her? Shego can’t remember. 

 

“Do you wanna make out?” Kim says. 

 

Shego stops mid-chew. Kim keeps smiling cutely at her. Instead of replying, Shego spits her fries out onto the potato floor, grabs the back of Kim’s head, and presses their mouths together. 

 

Tastes like french fries. 

 

---

 

“Oh, holy smokes!” Ange yells, mid stride and half way to the fryers. 

 

From the punch her forearms ate earlier, Ange knows that Shego is an unnaturally strong woman. Not that one needs to be to lift Kim up - even if Kim is incredibly dense and heavy for her size. With very, very, very wide eyes, Ange watches Shego lift her eldest, bestest, cutest sister in the entire world and press her against the surface of the cheap plastic table Drakken had rented out for this giant potato lair. 

 

Everyone else seems to be just as surprised and befuddled as she. Thankfully, Ange has the quickest reaction time out of everyone not currently under the influence of the PCA ray. 

 

“H-hey!” She scampers closer to the two. She doesn’t need a mirror to know her face is bright red. All of her blood is pumping through each of her cheeks. “U-uh, girls!” Not knowing what to do, she waves her hands around. “There are people here!” 

 

It does nothing to stop them. In fact, Shego’s hand is starting to drift down- Kim’s hand is already on Shego’s ass. Ange lets out a squeak. With horror, she realizes she needs to do something now. Like, right now, or else every man in this room is about to get a show. She reaches over and pokes Shego. “Cool it!”

 

It’s a mistake. A horrifying, scary mistake. 

 

Shego snaps her head up. Like an animal, she bares her teeth. Like an animal, she snarls. Like a mutated plasma person, her hands light up in green flames. They sizzle against the table on either side of Kim’s head. Ange jumps backwards about five feet. 

 

”Try it,” Shego growls. She looms over Kim. Taught muscles strain against black and green leather. Underneath Shego, Kim stares up in dazed awe. Both of them pant for their breath. Ange is pretty sure she sees Kim start working at the button of Shego’s catsuit that’s on her neck-

 

“Okay.” Ange says. Her voice cracks, so she clears her throat. Louder, this time, she turns to everyone in the room. “Okay, everybody out! Right now!” Nobody moves. Ange thinks about everyone watching her Kim continue this… activity and anger starts coiling around Ange’s breast. “OUT. NOW!” 

 

“But Ange!” Drakken says. Besides him, Ron is gaping at her sister with an open mouth and - ew. “I need to stay and watch so I can gather as much data as I can. The PCA’s effects are very-” He’s not even being perverted. It’s genuine scientific curiosity. Ange doesn’t care.

 

He stops talking when Ange walks over, picks him up over her head and flings him so fast and hard he flies clean through one of the raw potato walls. His cry of terror is drowned out by the disturbing, wet squelch of giant potato. 

 

Behind her, Ange hears her eldest, bestest, cutest sister let out a tiny whimper. Ange snaps her head back to the rest of the boys.

 

“OUT!”

 

Her voice echoes against the curved, hollowed out walls of giant potato. Finally, thankfully, the henchmen get up from their seats and start to head for the exit. Ange slowly turns to Ron, who has an odd expression on his face. He hasn’t stopped looking at her sister and Shego. Ange growls, stepping between him and them. Cold blue eyes stare him down.

 

“Out,” she says, very softly this time. 

 

The blush on his cheeks seeps into pale fear. He’s not reacting fast enough for her liking. She jerks her body at him. Ron finally breaks, sprinting for the exit of the potato lair. 

 

Ange scans the room one last time. Her face grows warm when her gaze passes by... that, but making sure no one else is here to see it is more important. Oh. Despite the situation, Ange has it in her to be amused. Ron left so quickly, he didn’t have time to grab Rufus. He’s on the table besides… them… also gaping. Ange walks over and grabs him. 

 

“Not for you, buddy,” Ange says, placing him on her shoulder. He blinks at her, then nods.

 

“Shego,” Rufus squeaks out. Ange nods back, tiredly. Then she walks over to the fryers full of hot oil and turns them off, one by one. Even if Kim is about to, uh… well, Ange isn’t going to let her go up in a grease fire. That’s that about that. 

 

Now that she knows the place is as empty as it will be for... a while, and that there isn’t anything hazardous around besides the gigantification ray, Ange turns on her heel and scampers out of the giant potato lair. 

 

She needs to invent a ray that makes her forget noises. That’s going right on top of her to do list. 

 

 

Chapter 70: Chapter 69

Notes:

haha chapter 69

nice

A large bus pulls up to a somewhat empty parking lot of a retro style building. It’s the only structure around. Everything else is miles and miles of farmland. Potato farm land, because they’re in Idaho. The dingy but warm walls of PancakeMansion welcome approximately twelve henchmen, one naked mole rat, a teenage boy, Dr. Drakken, and a teenage girl who is dragging around a storm cloud. It hangs over her, so dark and violent, whenever someone catches her eye, they flinch away. And it happens often, because Ange keeps scanning their group, silently daring any of them to talk about what just happened inside the giant potato lair of Idaho. 

 

None of them do. They enjoy living.

 

Ange is the last one in the building. The henchmen have all taken up spots near the booths and diner bar. Curiously enough, Ron and Dr. Drakken are sharing a booth. It’s the one nearest to the exit, so Ange decides to take it too. She slides in besides Drakken, throwing her dark glare at the two boys before she picks up her menu.

 

“S-so,” Ron says with a gulp. “Anyone, uh, excited for Halloween?”

 

“Bah,” Drakken says with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Who cares about a silly holiday. Dressing up as the things that go bump in the night?” He smirks at Ron and purrs. “That’s what I am.”

 

Ron shivers. “I was just gonna be a horse, man,” Ron mutters.

 

Ange, holding the menu, twitches. She regards him over the laminated paper. “The headless horseman’s horse… man?” 

 

Ron blinks at her. “No, but that’s a good idea. It’s a two person costume with Kim! One of us is gonna be the head, the other is gonna be the butt!”

 

Ange takes a moment to feel sorry for Kim. 

 

“Nngg, why does that matter?” Drakken says, hands pounding the table. The hand shaped blue bruise on one side of his face contorts as he glowers. “Halloween is a child’s holiday. I’m a responsible adult!”

 

Ange and Ron share a glance.

 

“Free candy, dude!” Ron says, also pounding the table. “And holiday cheer. It’s like- Christmas, but scary.” Drakken doesn’t look convinced. Ron holds his palms towards the ceiling. “C’mon, what would you be if you had to dress up as something? Just humor me.”

 

A blue finger taps a blue chin. Drakken furrows his brow in thought. “What would I be…” When he gets his idea, he snaps a finger with glee. “A flower!”

 

Ange and Ron share a glance.

 

“A flower?” Ange asks, setting down her menu.

 

Drakken nods, pride puffing up his chest. “Halloween is for terror, no? There is nothing scarier for a man than another man acting in a feminine manner.” 

 

Ron shakes his head in denial. “No way. That’s only if the man is an asshole.”

 

“Watch your language!” Ange and Drakken speak at the same time. Ron jumps in his seat. 

 

“But you’re not wrong,” Ange continues. “Only awful people are afraid of feminine men. Not worth anyone’s time.”

 

“Hrm…” Drakken thinks a bit more. “I should talk to my cousin then. It seems his ideas on gender and ethics are out of date.”

 

“You care about ethics?” Ron asks in disbelief.

 

Drakken blinks back, just as disbelieving. “Well, I can’t be an evil villain if I don’t make it a point to study up on ethics, now can I?”

 

“What can I get for ya’ll, hun?” A woman’s voice interrupts the conversation. She has a southern accent, which is a little odd. Idaho is near the Canadian border. She’s also very pretty, so there’s that. Ange gives her a charming smile as the boys start their order. Hopefully food - and not french fries, if Ange sees any of these people order a single french fry, she’s going to throw hands - will be the perfect distraction to prior events. 

 

Oh right. After Ange finishes her order and the waitress walks away, she turns to Drakken. “How long will the PCA ray affect Kim and Shego?”

 

Ron’s face colors at the mention. He’s smart enough not to say anything, though. 

 

“The ray lasts for approximately three hours, my dear,” Drakken says. Ron looks a little disturbed by Drakken’s nickname for her. It is kind of disturbing. Ange’s face colors in contemplation this time. Three hours…

 

“Three hours?” Ange stares down at the table of their booth. “Wow…” she says lamely.

 

Three hours….

 

---

 

Shego regains control of her impulses tongue deep in Kim’s mouth. Which is one of the.. places her tongue has been in today. Certainly. 

 

Hands are around her neck, twitching and clutching at her with delicate strength. Kim is kissing her with a lazy sort of passion. Likely all she can muster because of how energetic they were earlier. Forest green eyes open as Shego tries to pull away, piercing directly through all of her defenses. 

 

Shit.

 

It’s not hard to pin Kim down onto the plastic surface. She plants her hand against Kim’s sternum and pushes. Kim looks a bit too tired to put up that much of a struggle against Shego’s pale green palm. Shego can feel her chest rise and fall against her touch and the strong heartbeat beneath Kim’s ribcage. She tries not to think about that. The way this girl is looking up at her is..

 

It’s too much. 

 

Fucking shit.

 

“It finally wore off, hm?” Kim says. Kim has expressive, large eyes. Right now, they’re half lidded and watching. Self satisfaction leaks into her gaze. Shego frowns, then sits up completely. It might be a mistake, because they’re both naked. But seeing Kim’s chest is much better than feeling it against hers. Less distracting.

 

“We’re not talking about this,” Shego finally says after a moment of thought. Kim snorts.

 

“Sure.” She places her hand against Shego’s wrist. A gentle tug is all it takes for Shego to let up. It shouldn’t have been that easy. Maybe the PCA has lingering effects? She needs to kill Drakken. Then Kim sits up with Shego, making Shego back away just a bit. Kim runs her fingers through her beautiful red hair, still watching. Always watching. “I have my answer anyway.” 

 

“No.” 

 

Despite the rejection, Kim doesn’t stop smiling. Damnit.  

 

“Kimmie, no, we can’t do this.” 

 

“Why not?” Kim says, tilting her head to the side. Red hair falls around her like water. A deep bite mark is exposed on her neck... and shoulder. More than one. Shego remembers giving her every single imprint. She remembers all of it. “Because I’m not old enough?” she scoffs, not realizing that is exactly why they can’t. “You like me. I like you. We both know it.”

 

Shego swings her leg over Kim’s waist, un-straddling herself. She rubs at her temple, trying to find the right words. “You have an entire life in front of you.” Her eyes scan the.. Potato. Dear god, she took Kimmie’s virginity inside a giant potato. How does she end up in these situations? She really needs to kill Drakken. “And you should spend it with people that are actually good for you.” 

 

“I think you’re good for me,” Kim says, lightly. She settles herself next to Shego and bumps the side of her head against Shego like an affectionate cat. It would have made Shego’s heart melt five minutes ago. 

 

“I’m wanted in eleven countries, Princess,” Shego says dryly. Kim looks pleased that Shego called her Princess. “I’m evil, remember?”

 

“You don’t have to be.”

 

“See?” Finally finding her catsuit - somehow, it had ended up on the barrel of the gigantification beam - Shego gets onto her feet. “Do you ever see yourself with a villain?” Kim opens her mouth, but Shego waves her hand. “I mean in a long term relationship, where you’re both happy. Not... this.”

 

“Anything’s possible for a Possible.” 

 

Half way to the death ray, Shego turns around to glare. Kim’s grin is shit eating. Shego lets a little ball of plasma form on one of her fingers. “Take this seriously,” Shego says, blasting it right at Kim. Kim braces her foot on the table and kicks herself into the air. She flips backwards over the bolt of plasma and lands as gracefully as one can onto a raw potato floor. 

 

Effortless. Kim makes it effortless. 

 

Fucking goddamn shit.

 

“Fine,” Kim says. She finally starts dressing too. Her underwear is in shreds, but her pants survived. She pulls them over her legs. “Dating a villain would be complicated.” Kim thinks about the logistics of it all, frowning. Governments would turn on her. The public would judge. “Really complicated.” She finds her shirt and pulls it on. The back of it is barely holding on. A hole the size of Shego’s mouth is torn into the turtleneck of it. Kim runs a finger over the bite it's exposing. 

 

“Go good,” Kim says, glancing shyly at Shego. She’s already at the tip of the deathray, pushing herself into the green and black suit. 

 

“No.” Once dressed, Shego launches herself into the air. An elegant arc sends her half way through the lair. She lands right beside the tables with a crouch. “No, I won’t. And the fact that you would bring it up shows we aren’t compatible.” She stands up straight, towering over Kim. “I won’t ever be a hero, Kimmie. Not for anyone.” 

 

It’s finally clicking. Shego can see sadness in Kim’s eyes. The longing, too. 

 

With a defeated sigh, Shego reaches over and pats her on the head. Once. Like a pet. Comforting people isn’t her forte, sue her. 

 

“Just give up on me, Princess. I promise, you’ll be way happier in the long run.” Shego turns around and walks away from the girl, not waiting for the rebuttal Kim would eventually think of. That girl is too fucking hopeful. 

 

The world isn’t so kind.

 

Experience means she keeps a personal vehicle in every lair. Usually a flying machine. She turns it on and guides it over to a broken hearted redhead. 

 

“I’m only offering once,” Shego says from the open cockpit. “Want a ride?” 

 

Quietly, Kim reaches up with both hands. She pulls herself into the cockpit using only her upper body strength, and settles into the seat behind Shego. The cockpit closes with a hiss. Shego takes them to the exit, then turns around to face the innards of the hollowed out potato lair. She presses a button on her control column. A laser blasts out of a small gun mounted on top of her machine. It strikes true, hitting the self-destruct mechanism that villains install in every single one of their lairs for some reason. 

 

The machine backs out, then turns and flies away from a giant potato caving in on itself. It would be funny to think about, except Shego can still taste Kim on her tongue. She pushes her control module forward, urging her flying machine faster along its course.

 

Best to leave all of this behind her. All of it-

 

“I won’t.”

 

“Wh- huh?” Shego almost startles, except she’s too well trained for that. Behind her, she feels Kim lean close. The scent of strawberry kiwi shampoo and Kim’s sweat fills her nose. From her peripheral vision, she makes out Kim’s profile. Her eyebrows are pulled down in determination. She’s staring out the window, straight ahead of them.

 

“I won’t give up on you.” 

 

Electric green eyes go very wide. Shego turns to stare at Kim fully. She sees Kim’s lips quirk upwards, but she doesn’t say anything else, and she doesn’t stop looking out the window. Even Shego doesn’t know what to say now. 

 

Silently, Shego turns back to stare out of the cockpit. Kim is the most stubborn person she’s ever met (besides herself). Foreboding curls against her stomach. Finally, Shego finds the words.

 

“Kimmie?”

 

“Yeah?”

 

“You’re an idiot.”

 

“Hey!” 

 

---

 

It shouldn’t make her happy, but it does anyway. No one has ever told her that before.

 

It makes her feel like a caged animal, too. Like she has no choice but to gnaw on metal bars until they give and break. The weight of expectation is a chain rubbing raw around her neck. It’s heavy enough to pull into the dirt.

 

Shego lets people down. That’s all she does.

 

---

 

A flying machine touches down in a somewhat empty parking lot. The cockpit opens from the top and one of the most dangerous people in the world throws herself into open air. She hits the ground at a dead sprint. Ange watches her from the window of their booth. From the rage filled expression on Shego’s face - and other context clues, she’s probably not happy.

 

Ange looks around quickly. No one else has noticed. 

 

She stands up and away from the booth, making sure to take her half eaten, second plate of bacon cheeseburger and onion rings with her. Dr. Drakken and Ron both look at her curiously. Ange gives them both a pleasant smile and bites into an onion ring.

 

The door bursts open, almost completely off of its hinges. Everyone in the diner besides Ange jumps in their seats. 

 

“DRAKKEN!” Shego whips her head from side to side. She’s literally shaking. Ange takes another step away from Dr. Drakken. He’s currently trying to sink underneath the table. It’s a display of self preservation Ange didn’t think he had in him. 

 

When Shego can’t find Drakken immediately, she reaches towards the nearest henchman and grabs him by his collar.

 

”Where?” Shego’s voice is a low growl, wolf-like and terrifying. 

 

The henchman sells Drakken out immediately. He points a hand at the booth Ange had been sitting at, Ron is sitting at, and Drakken is hiding underneath. There’s a “How could you?!” before Shego stomps over. Her hands are blazing bright green. 

 

With strength, Shego reaches both hands underneath the table and rips it right out of the floor. It crashes through the window with speed. Kim, who is making her way towards the diner at a more relaxed pace, jumps out of the way. 

 

“Shego! Cool it with the property damage,” Kim scolds through the newly opened window. Her shirt is very torn. Ange hands her plate to Ron as she heads out the door.

 

“Not now!” Shego roars, staring down at her employer. He tries to give her a smile. It’s more like a nervous grimace. Shego balls one of her hands into a fist and launches it directly at Drakken’s bruised up face. Rabbit fear makes him dodge just in time. A loud and awful boom rings throughout the diner as her hand shatters through both the tile floor and the layer of concrete underneath it. Drakken shrieks. Ron takes a bite of onion ring.

 

Primal instinct launches Drakken out of the newly opened window. Faster than he’s ever moved before, he starts sprinting down the road. “Now Shego!” He says, voice fading as he runs farther and farther away from the building. Not from the Shego, who is chasing him down like he’s a helpless fawn. “Let’s talk about this!” 

 

Kim and Ange watch the two shrink into the distance. Occasionally, a flare of green plasma explodes on the horizon. Ange finishes draping her red bolero jacket over Kim’s grateful shoulders. Kim even gives her a kiss on the cheek and Ange pretends not to smell Shego on her. 

 

Her face does go bright red. This is weird. Don’t think about it.

 

“Uhm,” Ange coughs. “Congratulations?” Kim snorts in amusement. She casts a sly glance at Ange.

 

“Thanks.”

 

“Are you… hungry?” Ange gestures at the semi-broken diner, the scared henchmen, a munching Ron and Rufus, and a befuddled waitress. Even the cook is peeking out from the back. Kim slides her arms into the sleeves of Ange’s jacket, covering up her tattered compression shirt and most of Shego’s markings. She nods. 

 

“Like, so hungry.”

 

“Cool.”

 

The two sisters make their way back into the diner. As they do, Ange silently holds out a hand. Kim looks at it, then grins.

 

Kim slaps a high five into it.

 

Chapter 71: Chapter 70

 

Team Possible makes it back to school halfway through the last period. Ron, who had spent most of the mission eating, and part of the mission slapping Drakken, goes straight to class. Ange (who is covered in bruises and an abysmal amount of raw, dried up potato juice) and Kim (who is covered in a pleasant amount of dried up Shego juice) head straight for the showers. Hot, steamy clean washes over the both of them

 

They’ve seen each other naked enough times to not be so prudish about their bodies, so Kim doesn’t make an effort to cover herself.

 

Ange’s eyes widen. 

 

A lot.

 

“Wow,” is all Ange can say when she sees Kim’s back. And Kim’s everything when she turns around to look at Ange. Bite marks, scratches, hickies and more. 

 

“Yeah,” is all Kim can say. Her face is adorably red. Ange would ask if it hurts, but it probably does in a good kind of way. Then she stares up at the ceiling in thought. 

 

“So, like, you probably learned a lot, right?”

Kim’s mouth opens. “...I’m not teaching you how to have sex with a woman, Angie.” 

 

“Not even a little?”

 

“...Let me think about it?”

 

Ange clicks her tongue. She’ll have to go back to asking the lesbians that hang outside of The Velvet Moon every night Thursday through Sunday. Really, what’s the point of having an elder technical twin sister if she can’t ask Kim these things?

 

Then the sound of a door opening and closing makes them freeze. 

 

It’s Monday. That means cheer practice. And school just ended. “Angie,” Kim says, eyeing the entrance to the showers. If anyone saw the state Kim is in right now, the rumor mill would go wild. “Help?”

 

Having a technical twin younger sister does have its perks. Ange leaves the showers without hesitation, dripping water as she goes. She walks into the locker room proper, right as Bonnie is changing out of her shirt. Her cheer uniform lays on the bench besides her, folded neatly. They make eye contact at the exact same time and freeze in place. 

 

“Hi, Bonnie,” Ange manages to say. She has to strangle it right out of her throat to do it, but she does it. Bonnie is very beautiful and very topless. Her bra is very pretty, too. Red and lacey. It cups her breasts perfectly. Ange rips her eyes upwards before she can stare too long.

 

“Hi,” Bonnie says. For some reason her face goes red. Ange looks down at herself. 

 

Oh, she’s still naked. Let’s make this quick before she sees, then. Ange grabs both her and Kim’s clothes and towels. She makes it almost back to the showers when Bonnie speaks again.

 

“Ange, what the hell is that?” Bonnie’s voice raises an octave as she processes what she sees. The gash on Ange’s face isn’t new. Neither is the bruise on the back of her calf, or the slice cutting through her shoulder that she needs to re-suture after her shower. 

 

The giant blemish that’s still forming on her latissimus dorsi is new. So are the bruises on each forearm. Both Shego related. 

 

“Uhm,” Ange says, the highly intelligent woman that she is. Before she can continue, Bonnie stomps up to her in a pair of white fitted jeans, a bra, and nothing else. Ange clutches at the towels and clothes in her hands like a shield, turning around just as Bonnie reaches her. “Uh, well, these things just kind of happened-”

“Do not give me that shit,” Bonnie says. Her tone is so dark and cold Ange doesn’t even want to say ‘language’. 

 

Bonnie clutches one of Ange’s forearms, notices the bruise, and lightens her touch. She guides it away from Ange’s body to look at her. There’s another cut on her upper thigh. The deepest is against her ribs, stitches still cinching a flap of skin closed. Her Shifu always throws her knives true. Ange can only rely on herself to get out of their way. 

 

Bonnie looks at every bit of her. She runs her fingers lightly over Ange’s ribs. Ange couldn’t keep the shudder Bonnie pulls out of her at bay if she had a gun to her head. She gently clutches Bonnie’s hand still. Bonnie’s palm is cold, even against the wet skin of her ribs. She lets it warm up with her body heat.  Ange looks down right as Bonnie looks up at her, and she comes face to face with worried turquoise eyes. 

 

Ange feels so warm. It’s devastating. 

 

“Why do you do this to yourself?” Bonnie says after a moment. 

 

Because I’m not good enough. Because I need to watch Kim’s back. Because I can while others can’t.

 

There are a lot of answers Ange could give Bonnie. Maybe they would even make sense to her. They would certainly be right, but they wouldn’t be true. 

 

Because I deserve it.

 

“I like it,” Ange ends up saying. It’s as much of the truth as she’s willing to divulge. Bonnie’s eyes go wide. Assessment is behind the surprise. 

 

“You like it?”

 

Right as Bonnie says that, the door to the locker room opens. Tara, Hope, and Jessica all walk in and stop. 

 

It must be a sight. Ange is still very naked. Bonnie is half dressed. Ange’s hand is still on Bonnie’s wrist. Bonnie’s palm is still on her ribs. For a beat, Ange and Bonnie are frozen like deer in headlights. Then they react at the same time. Ange steps back. Bonnie pulls her hand free. 

 

They share a glance and the same blush while Bonnie places her hands behind her back. She thinks better of it and moves them to her waist. “It’s about time you got here, girls,” Bonnie says, cocking a hip to the side. The three girls lean back in surprise. “Lets hurry it up. I want to practice our tumbling today.”

 

Ange lets Bonnie bark her orders as she heads back into the showers. Not before Tara shoots her a questioning look that she doesn’t know how to answer. Inside, Kim is so anxious she’s hopping from foot to foot. Relief makes her shoulders sag as Ange places Kim’s things into her arms. 

 

“What took?” Kim says, patting herself dry as quickly as she can. 

 

“Bonnie,” Ange says. That’s all she says. Kim looks at her, then looks at her naked body, then looks back at her face. It’s still flushed from embarrassment.

 

“Angie, I know this is a lot coming from me, but your relationships are ferociously weird.” 

 

Kim is right. This is a lot coming from her. Ange gives her an unamused look. Even if Kim is right (she is), she shouldn’t say it. She’s the one who lost her virginity inside a giant potato. 

 

---

 

Brick is waiting at her locker again. Ange makes sure her smile is pleasant and warm before she walks up to him. He gives her a puppy dog grin and, reluctantly, Ange has to admit it’s cute. 

 

“Hey Brick,” she says, quickly grabbing her textbook from her locker. The other two aren’t here yet, but all they have to do is wait. Ange closes her locker door and leans her back against it. Brick is doing the same beside her. She clutches her book to her chest and watches him carefully.

 

“Hi Ange.” Brick towers over her. By now, Ange has grown visibly, but not an excessive amount. It kind of pisses her off. She doesn’t let it show. “I heard you had a crazy time yesterday.”

 

“Oh yeah,” Ange chuckles. “That mission was more odd than others. There was a giant potato and everything.”

 

“You’re allowed to bring potatoes into the cheerleaders’ locker room?” Brick blinks owlishly at her.

 

“Wha-” Ange blinks owlishly back. Then she goes very still and looks away. Foreboding drains the blood out of her face. “That- you mean with Bonnie?”

 

“Yeah.” She can’t see him. She doesn’t want to see what expression is on his face. “You two are close, right?”  

 

“She’s my friend,” Ange says, stressing the word friend. “Uhm, she was just checking up on me.” The cut on her cheek is already a healing scab. She points at it to prove her point. “I, uh, bump into things a lot. I’m not as graceful as I should be.”

 

Brick laughs. A hand pats her on her back, strong enough that she almost stumbles forwards. Instead, she braces herself and tries not to let annoyance show on her face. “We’re the exact same!” He lifts his shirt up, showing off an incredibly strong torso. There’s also an impressive purple bruise on the side of his stomach. “I got tackled into a railing last practice.”

 

“That’s rough, buddy,” she says, trying to sound sympathetic.

 

Brick nods sagely. “You two must be best friends,” he says, pulling his shirt back down. “Bonnie doesn’t check up on me like that.” 

 

Slowly, Ange turns her head to watch him. She watches him for probably an awkward amount of time, except Brick seems to be off in his own little world. She watches him long enough that Donavan shows up. When he does, Brick lights up like a Christmas tree and wraps an arm around the boy’s shoulder. Donavan gives him a slight smile, which might as well be a beaming grin considering how reserved he is.

 

Ange watches him until Bonnie shows up. Then she watches her, assessing and calculating and-

 

She smothers everything into ashes when Bonnie leans over and gives Brick a hug. To read into anything would be unfair and uncouth. They’re best friends. Brick is Bonnie’s boyfriend. This is enough. Everything about this is enough. Maybe she should visit her Shifu tonight. 

 

She’s always been good at beating the hope out of her. 

 

---

 

“Hey Bonnie?” Brick is looking beside him at her. Today, their date is way more lowkey. Late night coffee at a late night cafe, doing some late night studying. Bonnie’s already finished, and she’s fighting off her drowsiness for Brick’s sake with a mocha that’s starting to go cold. He needs a lot of assistance for this kind of stuff.

 

“What’s up, Brickie?” Bonnie asks, looking up from his almost finished algebra homework. 

 

“I can be your beard if you want,” Brick says with a smile.

 

Bonnie smiles back, confused as hell. “What?” 

 

“I know this kind of stuff can get heavy, y’know?” 

 

No. No, she doesn’t know how heavy beards can get. She can’t grow them. “Care to elaborate?”

“What does elaborate mean?”

 

“Explain in more detail.” 

 

“Oh,” Brick looks delighted to have learned something new. “Well, liking girls is complicated, right?” Bonnie stares at him blankly. He would know better than her, wouldn’t he? “So, like, if you don’t feel cool with everyone else knowing, I can be the only one that does. And we can pretend.” 

 

“...” Bonnie feels her eyes widen as everything slowly falls into place. “Do you…” She squints them in disbelief. “Do you think I like girls?” 

 

And like she hasn’t just asked the weirdest question in the world, Brick gives her a simple nod. If he were anyone else - anyone else - Bonnie would have exploded at them. She’s tempted to anyway. Rage is already starting to simmer underneath her skin. The only thing keeping it at bay is the fact that Brick is a moron. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about. She takes a deep breath.

 

“Brick, why do you think I like girls?” 

 

“Aren’t you and Ange crushing on each other?” 

 

The question hits her like one of Brick’s football tackles. Like a freight train. Like a fucking bullet through her skull. Bonnie sits straight up in her seat, so fast her chair screeches a little on the floor. The few other people hanging around give her curious looks. 

 

Bonnie remembers herself. Just in time. She was about to start screaming. 

 

“Me and… Ange?” Bonnie says. It’s more of a whisper. It’s more to herself. Besides her, Brick nods, and Bonnie doesn’t even register it. Her and Ange? Her and Ange? Her and Ange? Her heart picks up its pace until it’s thumping hard against her ribs. Thank god she trained herself out of hyperventilation five years ago. She’d be doing that right now, too. “You think we’re crushing on each other?” 

 

Maybe there’s a bit of hysteria in there. She’s keeping her voice low, though. She needs to keep herself in control. She needs to.

 

“Uh huh,” Brick says. His eyes are innocent. “I said that already, didn’t I?” His brow furrows. “Sorry, my memory isn’t so great.” 

 

Her and Ange. 

 

Bonnie squeezes her eyes shut. That’s not a concept she can consider. Especially not here, in public. Ange isn’t even gay. Bonnie isn’t even gay! What could make Brick come to this conclusion?

 

“Why?” Bonnie says once, helplessly grasping at any straw she can. 

 

“Well…” Brick shrugs. “It just kind of seems that way to me.” She stares at him, shaking her head with an open mouth. What the hell does that mean? “And I talked to my moms about it-”

 

He talked to others about this- “Your moms?” Bonnie says, emphasizing the plural. 

 

“Mhm! Charlie said that when she and mom were figuring it all out, people would have been super mean to her or Gracie if anyone else also figured it out.” It seems to make him sad to say it. “And I don’t want people to be mean to you, Bonnie.” Bonnie can only listen mutely. She can barely process Brick’s words.

 

“You’re my friend, and I want you to be happy.” 

 

That hits her like a train too. 

 

He means every single word he says. Bonnie can see it in his eyes - open and earnest and sweet. For some reason, hers start to burn. She tears her gaze away, blinking her eyes quickly as she stares blankly at the algebra homework.

 

Brick wants her to be happy.

 

Bonnie sniffles. A giant, warm hand rests on her shoulder. When she turns around to snap at him, his other hand is holding a tissue and his eyes are open and earnest and sweet. 

 

She takes the tissue.

 

“I’m not-” Bonnie stops talking and blows her nose. Her voice is more normal when she speaks again. “I’m not gay, Brick.”

 

Brick grins like a sheepdog. “Yeah, that’s the spirit!” What a dope. Bonnie smiles at him wetly. What an adorable dope. “I’m a great beard, ain’t I?”

 

He would be, if she was gay. Bonnie wipes at her eyes, thinking this through. She doesn’t know enough. “What do you mean by pretend?” 

 

“Like, pretend to date each other. But really, we aren’t.”

 

That’s actually… kind of perfect, isn’t it? All the social status of dating Middleton’s next star quarterback, none of the responsibility. She wouldn’t need to kiss him. She wouldn’t need to fuck him. All she’d need to do is spend her time with him. All that matters is that he thinks she’s gay, and he won’t even tell anyone about it. A weight Bonnie didn’t know she was carrying starts lifting off of her. Her eyes drift shut as she savors the feeling.

 

A new one starts settling in, but she can ignore it for now. 

 

“Okay, Brick,” Bonnie says. She leans against his side. He’s huge compared to her. Stronger than anyone she knows, except maybe one person. But it feels nice. “You can be my beard.” Bonnie opens her turquoise eyes and sees Brick watching her gently. 

 

“..Thank you,” Bonnie says. She means it, too.

 

“That’s what friends are for!” Brick says loudly. The people in the cafe give them another curious look. Bonnie can’t find it in herself to care this time. With almost lazy glee, Bonnie reaches over to take a sip of her cold mocha. 

 

“And now you can date Ange too.” 

 

Bonnie sprays her drink all over the table.

 

 

Chapter 72: Chapter 71

At four forty, Bonnie enters her ballet class. She’s always the first student there. This dedication meant that she got to spend some one on one time with Clara, which Bonnie is pretty sure Clara appreciates as much as she does. 

 

This morning, her mind is full of thoughts. The walk here had been about girls, and why Brick might think she likes them. It doesn’t make sense to her. She’s only dated boys. The gayest thing she’s done is kiss girls during spin the bottle. That doesn’t even count. Even her sometimes kisses with Tara are just practice. 

 

When she passes the doorway and enters the studio, she thinks about Ange. She left Ange with one kiss after their first practice date. Her lips were as soft and pouty as Bonnie suspected them to be. But, again, practice doesn’t count. 

 

“You’re in a good mood this morning,” Clara says. Bonnie startles, realizing her cheeks are scrunched up with a smile. 

 

“Oh,” Bonnie smooths out her entire face. “I just had a date last night. It went well.” Clara’s lip twitches. She’s in the middle of barre work. Legs a mile long perform movements so elegant they look easy. They’re not easy, but Bonnie is getting there. She practices the most out of everyone, and practice makes perfect. 

 

She joins her instructor at the bar. Clara is kind enough to restart her routine. Bonnie mimics her, two women a perfect mirror. 

 

“That good mood,” Clara says, stretching out her arm with graceful casualness. “Keep it. Your audience will sense it.” The look in Clara’s eyes is cold and calculating. Bonnie watches her carefully. “I’m going to work you hard this morning.” She warns, extending her leg and pointing her toes to the ceiling. Bonnie follows suit. 

 

“Find the happiness in the pain,” Clara says. “And you may actually become a good ballerina.”

 

“I like it,” Ange tells her, dripping water off her naked body. Her ribs are warm against Bonnie’s palm. Her hand circles Bonnie’s wrist, a loose cage in every finger. 

 

Bonnie reflects on that moment in the locker room. She thinks about it as she continues her warm up. She didn’t get Ange then, but she’s starting to understand now. To become excellent,  like a sculpture splitting marble, you must cleave yourself apart. 

 

Pain begets perfection. And perfection… Well, she deserves it, doesn’t she?

 

---

 

Lunch time, fun time. If she says that out loud, Bonnie might stab her. Ange grins thinking about it.

 

As she sits down at the table, Riley catches her eye. He holds his phone up and points at it. Ange pulls her own out of her pants - tight fit and black, paired with chunky blue and white sneakers and a white blouse. Casually futch is what her girls would call it. 

 

Ive got lacrosse nxt 2sday Riley says over text. 

 

Ange looks back up and nods happily. I’ll be there! 

 

C:

 

How cute. Ange snaps her beat up flip shut and sees Bonnie watching her. Bonnie’s expression is as smooth as glass. Ange lets her observe, instead resting the side of her face on her hand, and her elbow on the table. 

 

“Hey,” Ange says, shooting Tara and Bonnie both a charming smile. Tara’s eyes scrunch up cutely. She gives Ange a wave with her fingers. Ange thinks about how Tara likes kissing her cheeks and something lovely coils beneath her ribs. 

 

“So he’s finally asked,” is what Bonnie says. She sounds exasperated. Ange raises an eyebrow. 

 

“I’m glad he did,” Ange says. “I’ve always wanted to see lacrosse in person. It sounds like a fun sport.” She can’t play competitively, but maybe there’s a casual club she can find? She’ll have to look into it. 

 

Bonnie pokes her fork into her food. Shitty, rectangular pizza. Untouched. Ange is so glad she packed her own lunch today. She pulls out her huge lunch pack with a happy hum. A heaping portion of black pepper chicken and rice greet her, still warm and steaming from the insulated box. She can’t help it. Ange starts wiggling in her chair. 

 

“That looks good,” Bonnie says to her left. Ange can see her eyeing it, and Ange narrows her own.

 

“Yeah, it’s gonna be great.” To prove her point, she grabs her fork and spears a piece of chicken. Half way to her mouth, Bonnie’s carefully manicured hand rests itself on her wrist. It’s cool on her warm skin. Ange’s brain stops working long enough for Bonnie to guide it to her mouth. She lets out an appreciative noise.

 

“You’re right. Delicious.”  

 

“Wha- hey!” Ange pulls her hand away. The skin feels warm, despite how cold Bonnie runs. She rubs her wrist absentmindedly, trying to get rid of the tingles. “This is mine, Bonnie.”

 

“Wow,” Bonnie glances at Tara, who looks very amused by this. “Angie, learn to share.” To hammer the lesson in, she grabs her fork from her lunch tray and steals another piece of chicken. “You have more than enough.” Then, she chomps on it with a pleased, smug smirk. Ange can only stare, aghast.

 

“No! It’s all for me.”

 

Bonnie raises an eyebrow at her. Ange starts pouting. Bonnie steals another piece of chicken right in front of her. 

 

Ange gasps. “Bonnie! My mom made that for me.”

 

“Can I have some?” Tara says. Bonnie grabs Ange’s lunch and pulls it until it’s between them. Ange watches, devastation painted all over her face. Her lunch! Bonnie just stole her lunch! And she’s sharing it with Tara and not her! This is, like, bullying.

 

“Eat up, Tara,” Bonnie sing-songs. “There’s plenty to go around.” Ange watches Tara start munching on her lunch. 

 

“What am I going to eat?!” Ange says, clutching her poor empty belly. Wordlessly, because Bonnie is working on another bite of food, she slides her lunch tray in front of Ange. Ange feels her devastation turn into utter despair. “But- But, I need more calories than that. I’m a growing girl.”

 

Bonnie drags Tara’s tray in front of her too. Ange gives Bonnie her biggest and wettest puppy dog eyes. It only makes Bonnie smile. Maybe it would have worked if the choice wasn’t between cafeteria pizza and a home cooked meal. 

 

“This is good,” Tara says, daintily rubbing her mouth with a napkin. “Thanks.”

 

“You’re welcome,” Ange croaks out, staring at her pizza. She takes a bite of it, and it’s dry and tasteless. No, it has a taste. Cardboard and bad sauce. Ange sniffles like the little guy she is. 

 

“Drama queen,” Bonnie says. There’s a smile in her voice. “Come to the party this Friday.”

 

Ange swallows down her crumbly bread with the skim milk on Bonnie’s former tray. She eyes Bonnie, then Tara. They’ll both be there. Someone else will be there, too. “Uhm, I was planning on doing some lab things on Friday.” Bonnie reaches over and digs a fingernail into her side, underneath her ribs. 

 

“That wasn’t a request, Possible.” Bonnie sniffs a haughty sniff. Ange grips her wrist and pulls it away from her side. Bonnie stares at the movement. “You totally bailed on us last time.”

 

She had. Brick is at the Friday parties. If she saw him with Bonnie she probably would have punched a wall. She stares down at her shitty lunch. “I have things to do other than partying,” Ange mutters bitterly. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Bonnie straighten her spine.

 

“What, you think you’re too good for it?” Bonnie snaps. Ange looks at her, at the anger on her beautiful face, and at the hurt that’s underneath it. It makes Ange clench her jaw. She purses her lips to hide it. 

 

“I’m not in a festive mood,” Ange says. Her brow furrows before she can stop it. Her eyes sting a little. Ange is the first one to look away. “I’ve just been.. I don’t know, in a funk?” She hears Tara snort, which is kind of funny. Ange might have understated it a little. 

 

Then, Bonnie touches her arm. It’s such a gentle and caring movement, Ange almost bursts into tears right there in the lunch room. She can't bring herself to move or she will burst into tears. 

 

“Then let's take your mind off of it,” Bonnie says softly. Her voice is closer than Ange expected. The pressure of Bonnie’s side weighs against her shoulder. The scent of her perfume fills Ange’s nose. She feels insane. “I still need to get you, like, properly drunk.”

 

That’s something to latch onto.

 

“No way,” Ange says. Thankfully, her voice doesn’t give her emotions away. “I’m impulsive enough.” She’s finally able to recover. She gives Bonnie a wry smile. Bonnie is still evaluating her, which is fine. Everything is fine. “I don’t want to think about what I’d do if I got drunk.” Something stupid, probably. “At the very least, I’d only do it around people I trust.”

 

One of the corners of Bonnie’s lips quirks upwards. Evaluation turns into calculation. Ange begins to think she said the wrong thing.

 

“Okay, Angie,” Bonnie says. Bonnie rests her chin on Ange’s shoulder. Ange tries not to twitch. She tries not to enjoy it. “I can arrange that too.”

 

Yup, she definitely said the wrong thing.

 

---

 

Brick shows up fifteen minutes before their lunch period ends. Ange can hear his heavy footsteps without even looking. She gets up from her chair just as arrives. He’s smiling at her.

 

“Hey, Ange!” Brick says, happy as a clam. Ange lets all her emotions fade away and gives him a warm smile of her own. He places a heavy hand on her shoulder. Ange lets him. “By the way,” he continues, winking confusingly, “sorry about all of this. I didn’t realize.” 

 

How does she react to that? 

 

“But don’t worry,” Brick says, not giving her enough time to process everything. “I got your back, kay?” 

 

“Uhm,” Ange says. “Thank you.” That’s probably a good reaction. It must be, because Brick looks relieved. He doesn’t do anything subtly. His shoulders sag, he lets out a big sigh.

 

“I’m rooting for you two.” He says with a laugh. Ange watches him with wide and confused eyes.

 

“Brickie,” Bonnie says, capturing his attention. Her smile is maybe a little tense. “Come sit down.” Ange refuses to let herself read into it, even if she really hopes their relationship is circling the drain. 

 

Bad and selfish.

 

Ange leaves them before they can say anything else that might make Ange feel worse. She heads right for Kim’s table. When she presses a hand onto Kim’s shoulder, Ange feels her tense in surprise. That cheers her up a little. She’ll be able to stop wearing this collar soon. Kim lets her drop a kiss against her cheek. Ron and Monique both get nods.

 

“I’m stealing her,” Ange tells them. 

 

“Wha- Ange, come on,” Ron whines. “I was just about to tell Kim why all I need is a spork to survive on a desert island.”

 

Monique scoffs. “Come on, there is no way. You need way more than that.”

 

“Nope,” Ron says, lifting his chin with the smugness that comes only from superior knowledge. “As long as the spork is quality, you can use it as a shovel, a spear, a spoon, and a fork.”

 

Monique narrows her eyes, unamused. “You can do all that with a stick too,” she says, making him deflate. She grins, smug in the way only someone with superior knowledge can be. “So, I’d be better off than you.” 

 

Kim looks at Ange with wide, pleading eyes. “Take me away.” 

 

Who can say no to that? Ange grabs Kim’s hand in hers and pulls her away. Behind the bleachers is a no go. Ange can’t take her on top of the roof either, even if she really does need a private place to be with her sister. In the end, she pulls Kim all the way into a quiet corner of the library, far away from prying eyes or listening ears. 

 

“What’s the ‘sitch?” Kim asks once they’ve stopped walking. Silently, Ange wraps her arms around Kim’s lanky frame. It only takes a second for Kim to return the gesture. She’s strong enough to hold Ange when Ange leans most of her bodyweight against her.

 

“Angie?” 

 

“Sorry,” Ange finds herself saying. She doesn’t even know what she’s apologizing for. Kim squeezes her. It helps keep her whole. Ange hugs her until she feels human again. Then she pulls back with a smile. It’s even somewhat real. 

 

“After matheletes, let's get ice cream,” Ange says. “I really want ice cream.” 

 

“Oh,” Kim says. She breaks out into a grin, and that definitely works at cheering Ange up. “Please and thank you.” 

 

“Spankin’,” Ange says, and smugness makes her grin right back at Kim. Bonnie hates it when she says that.

 

---

 

“Hi Donavan!” Ange says as the boy enters the room. Mathletes! Mathletes! Mathletes! The best part of her Thursdays. He gives her a small smile and sets his pack down onto the table she’s sitting at. “Anything cool on the sched’?” 

 

“The ‘sched’?” Donavan says, sounding amused.

 

Ange shrugs with a grin. “I’m trying to figure out what’s the best slang to make the girls barf.”

 

That gets him to blow a strong gust of air out of his nose. “Close, but no banana,” Donavan says as he makes his way to the white board. What a smart boy. 

 

Ange pounds the bottom of her fist against her palm. “Oooh, that’s a good one.” 

 

Donavan snorts. He actually snorts. Ange rolls her shoulders back with pride. She is definitely all that.

 

“Tomorrow is Brick’s game,” Donavan says, starting to write down a complex equation. He starts at the very top left hand side of the board. It’s going to be a long one today. “Besides studying, and... well, that’s all I have on my ‘sched’, really.”

Fair. Besides this, Ange just has her endless experiments to tinker with.. And a Friday party. “When did you start calling Brick by his first name?” 

 

The marker Donavan is writing with pauses, but doesn’t stop. Ange lets him contemplate his words before Donavan finally says, “He’s a good boy.”

 

It... well, Ange tries to be happy about that. She really does. From every interaction she’s had with him, he is a good boy. Brick deserves to be liked by people. She ought to be one of them and it’s not fair to him or Bonnie that she’s not. 

 

Life isn’t fair though, is it? That’s a lesson her mama taught her young. 

 

“Angelus,” Donavan says, drawing her out of her brooding. He’s almost half way through the equation. “If you were to build a ray that could grow facial hair,” Ange blinks her eyes in surprise. “How would you go about it?”

“Do you want to grow a beard?” 

 

“A mustache, specifically. No beard.” The image of short, scrawny Donavan with a handle bar mustache pops into her head. She bites her lip. 

 

“I’d build something that stimulates the hair follicles of the upper lip. Would you want this to be hand held or something you’d just have in your bathroom.”

 

“Hand held, please.” 

 

“Okay, so it would need to have a portable computer chip. Probably two. One to calibrate the area of affect on the upper lip, and one to quantify what wavelength would be needed for stimulation.” Donavan has finished writing out the calculation. Ange looks it over while Donavan looks her over.

 

“I’m afraid I’m completely lost,” he ends up saying. He’s good at math. In a lot of ways he’s better than her. Engineering, turning math into a machine, isn’t his forte though. Not yet. Maybe Ange should get him a one-on-one with one of the Professors at Upperton U. Those guys knew their stuff. 

 

“I’ll see if I can whip one up for you.” 

 

That pleases him. He gives her a grateful nod, then hands her the dry erase marker. Ange gets out of her chair, approaches the board, and writes down every step she made in her head to get to her answer. 

Chapter 73: Chapter 72

Notes:

This one has mentions of blood and gore at the end.

Ange arrives at the stadium a few minutes after the football game has ended. Judging from the volume and cadence of cheering, it looks like the Maddogs have won another game. Good for them. She locks her bike up and waits by the parking lot. People of all shapes and sizes start filtering out of the stadium, talking and laughing. She catches snippets of conversations. Apparently, Brick Flagg and Max Falcon make a great partnership on the field. 

 

Good for them.

 

Her phone vibrates. When Ange looks down at it, she sees a few messages that have all come at once. Riley, Tara, and Bonnie. She opens Tara’s first.

 

ur still coming 4 the fun?

 

Of course I’ll be there. C:

 

yay <3 how r u getting there? 

 

Riley is taking me. This isn’t a run of the mill house party. Apparently, Max’s cousin is a doctor. A rich, rich doctor who owns a lake house out in the mountains. One that is currently unoccupied, full of booze, and big enough to house a large group of teenagers for an entire weekend. 

 

Naturally, Ange has a small duffel with extra clothes, some handy gadgets, and always, always a first aid kit. Safety first. 

 

Do u think he’d let me bum a ride?

 

I’m unsure. I’ll ask him. One moment, please. Ange opens Riley’s text next.

 

Location nation, pls Riley’s said. Ange’s lip twitches.

 

I’m right outside the stadium. Tara was wondering if she could ride with us today. Is this possible? It takes a moment for Riley to reply. Ange uses it to people-watch. The crowd is thinning now. They all look so happy, it’s like looking at a beautiful painting. 

 

She’s not a part of it.

 

Besides u, ive got room for 4 more. If she has any friends, tell her to bring em2 

 

Maybe he’s trying to chase the skirts of some cheerleaders? As long as it’s not Tara, Ange won’t stop him. She opens Tara’s message history back up.

 

I’m at the stadium entrance. Riley has room for you and three more if anyone else needs a ride.

 

<3 

 

Ange feels her heart beat a little bit faster at that. She forces it to be normal. That’s just how Tara texts. Finally, she opens up Bonnie’s message.

 

Angie, when did your nerd boy Donavan become friends with Brick?

 

Angie blinks down at the message, mildly amused. She’s not sure exactly how to answer that, so she settles on something simple.

 

I’m as surprised as you are. Did something happen?

 

Brick just invited him to our party. Oh, Bonnie likely isn’t too pleased about that. Is Donavan even prepared for that?

 

Probably not, no.

 

Then he’s not gonna have a fun time. He said yes. Talk him out of this for me.

 

I’ll give him a warning, but he can make his own decisions.

 

>:C

 

Ange ignores that to scroll down to Donavan’s message history. She informs him this will be a multi-day event. The reply she gets actually makes her start laughing.

 

Fear not, Angelus. I always keep two extra pairs of underwear in my backpack.

 

Do you need a ride there?

 

Ms. Pace has acquired one for me. That’s Tara’s last name. They must all be together. It makes sense. Donavan is with Brick, Brick is with Bonnie-

 

Ange’s good mood starts circling around the drain. She takes a breath and thinks about Tara’s heart emoji instead. 

 

The girl dancing around her thoughts arrives moments later, followed by the girl who stalks every breath she takes. The boys are there too. They’re not something to focus on because the moment Tara catches sight of her, she breaks into a sprint. Ange lets her eyes squint in affection and braces herself. With cheerleading skill, Tara launches herself high into the air, and with genetically-modified strength, Ange catches her easily.

 

“Angie! Thank god it’s the weekend. I am so excited!” Tara says, giggling at the princess carry Ange has her in. For fun, Ange spins her around. Kim loves it when she does that. “Weeee!” Tara says, also loving it apparently. 

 

“Let’s have lots of fun,” Ange says. The other three finally arrive. Bonnie is eyeing them with careful attention. Donavan is giving her a look that Ange ignores dutifully. Brick looks as happy as he always does. 

 

“Hi guys,” Ange says. She could put Tara down now, but decides against it. Tara’s placed her head against Ange’s shoulder. Ange isn’t giving that up. “Hi Bonnie.”

 

“Angie,” Bonnie says. Ange isn’t sure how to interpret the look she gives Tara. She also isn’t sure why Tara sticks her tongue out at Bonnie. Bonnie rolls her eyes, sighs, then manages to smile like a fox. “I hope you’re ready for fun this weekend. I’m going to put you through the ringer.” Her voice is a purr. Ange shivers. A little bit of it is even from fear.

 

Then, an actually huge, white, lifted pickup truck pulls up in front of them, The driver side door opens, and over the roof of the car pops Riley’s face. He’s wearing the biggest grin she’s seen on him yet. Ange can’t help but match it.

 

“Are you guys ready to paaartttay!” Riley says. He starts bouncing up and down, shaking the truck with it. Brick matches his energy with a whoop.

 

“Yes please!” Tara says. Ange finally lowers her feet to the ground. Good things must come to an end. “Thanks for the ride, Riley,” Tara says.

 

Riley gives her a saucy look that makes Ange want to bare her teeth. “I can do more than that, babe.”

 

Augh, teenage boys.

 

“Maybe in your wet dreams,” Ange and Bonnie snap at the same time. Then they both pause in surprise and look at each other. Tara, still beside Ange, presses her face against Ange’s shoulder and starts snickering. Riley just looks a little scared. 

 

All of them clamber into Riley’s truck. It easily fits six, with three people that can fit in the back seat and three that can fit in the front. Because Riley is a boy, Bonnie makes the other two boys sit up front with him. Poor Donavan gets squished between Brick’s massive and muscular frame, and Riley’s less massive, but still muscular frame. From the backseat, Ange reaches over and pats him on the shoulder. The drive is going to take a few hours.

 

Ange is also in the middle, but much more lucky. Being squished between Bonnie and Tara is a better experience. It’s not even squished, really. There’s more than enough room for the three, since they’re all slighter than Brick and Riley (no one is slighter than Donavan). Still, Tara is happy to hold onto Ange’s arm - Ange is too. Bonnie seems content to lean against her shoulder as she starts texting some of her other friends. 

 

Life is good. 

 

“Hey, if you could meet anyone in history, who would it be?” Riley says a few minutes into their ride. As the driver, he gets to dictate the conversation. 

 

“Anyone in history?” Bonnie says, not looking up from her phone. Ange resists the urge to bury her face in Bonnie’s hair. 

 

“Yeah, like Mozart, Genghis Khan, Alexander the Great, anyone.”

 

“I’d want to meet John Elway,” Brick says. Riley glances at him once before looking back at the road. “The quarterback for the Denver Broncos in the nineties."

 

“Isn’t he still alive, though?” Riley says, sounding amused. Brick nods with a smile.

 

“I still wanna meet him. He’s amazing.” 

 

“He does seem pretty cool.” Riley shrugs in acquiescence. “For me, it’s gotta be Bruce Lee.” He mimes punching at the air. “I’d ask him to teach me some Kung Fu.” Ange could probably introduce him to her Shifu. She thinks about it, then thinks better about it. Riley wouldn’t last a day under her Shifu.

 

“Can’t you already learn Kung Fu?” Bonnie says, finally flipping her phone shut. She’s caught up on everything, from school gossip to everyone that’s going to be at the party. “Like, and I’ll deny this if you ever say it, but Kim is really good at that.”

 

“More than really good,” Ange says. Bonnie shoots her a dirty look that makes her smirk. “She’s the best at it. Seriously, I’d be surprised if there was anyone besides Shego who could match her.”

 

“Who’s Shego?” Tara asks from Ange’s other side.

 

“She’s Kim’s, like, arch rival? Dr. Drakken thinks he is, and technically that’s true because he pays Shego’s salary. Shego does the heavy lifting, though.” Ange lets out a rueful sigh. “He almost paid my salary too.”

 

“What does that mean?” Bonnie asks. Donavan turns to glance at her over his shoulder. 

 

“Well, he offered me an internship.” Ange shrugs. “But, he’s like Kim's evil villain. It wouldn’t be right working for the guy… even if he’s smart as heck,” Ange says the last part with a little grumble.

 

“I can’t believe Kim kept you from a paid internship,” Bonnie says. She doesn’t sound angry. More like she’s happy to have something else to needle Kim about. “Shouldn’t she be helping you save up money for the future?” 

 

“I’m not that worried about my future,” Ange says. “I’ve got more than enough money.” She’s sold two patents to the Red Cross already. The first was her search and rescue drone that detects heartbeats. The second was a gel that could stop the bleeding from a light scratch to an arterial gash. She’s used more than one tube of it on Kim and herself. 

 

“Are you loaded, Possible?” Bonnie says. There’s some kind of tone in her voice that makes Ange’s mouth go dry.

 

“Well, yeah.” Ange isn’t rich rich. Not yet. For a teenager, though, she has a good amount of cash. “Why do you think I was able to buy so many clothes when you were using me as a dress up doll?”

 

Bonnie quirks an eyebrow. A seductive eyebrow. 

 

Holy smokes. Ange goes bright red. Is this allowed?

 

“Spend some money on me,” Tara says. Unlike Bonnie, who implies her desires, Tara voices them. “Would you get me, like, a Momo Camel bag from the fall line up. They’re almost ready to be released.” 

 

“Uhm..” Ange says smartly. Tara hugs Ange tighter, watching Ange’s face innocently as she squishes her breasts against Ange’s arm. It makes Ange’s brain stop working. “Okay,” she hears herself say. 

 

Tara’s smirk is so smug and conceited, Ange goes from bright red to spontaneous combustion. She employs the only survival strategy she can think of and turns ahead to stare at the back of Donavan’s skull. It means she doesn’t see the glare Bonnie gives Tara, or Tara’s challenging response - a flash of her eyebrows. 

 

Donavan, who sees Ange’s helpless look through the rearview mirror, decides to move the conversation along. It’s why he’s Ange’s favorite boy of all time, forever. 

 

“I would like to meet Antoine Lavoisier,” he says. Brick and Riley both look at him, puzzled. Ange looks at him, grateful. Bonnie and Tara still look at each other.

 

“Who’s that?” Brick says.

 

“He’s the inventor of modern chemistry,” Donavan says. “I would love to pick his brain, and perhaps introduce him to modern, modern chemistry.” 

 

“I’d love to beat the crap out of him,” Bonnie says. She finally stops glaring at Tara to glare at Donavan, as if punishing him for even bringing up the name. “That guy has made my high school career way more difficult than it needs to be.” Three of the other people in the car nod. Donavan and Ange make eye contact in the rearview mirror as an act of solidarity. 

 

“I’d pepper spray him,” Tara says with a bright smile. “Or, like, torque his nuts.” Three boys wince. Even Ange winces at the thought. “But if I had to meet anyone in history, I’d love to meet Lynn Margulis.” 

 

“She’s still alive,” Ange says, so excited she wiggles. “I think I could get a meeting for you if you’d like.” At a high level, the science community is really connected.

 

“Who’s Lynn Margulis?” Bonnie says, speaking for everyone else in the truck.

 

“She developed endosymbiotic theory,” Tara says, explaining everything. Bonnie stares at her until she continues. “You know, the theory that mitochondria-” 

 

“The powerhouse of the cell!” Brick says, loud and proud. 

 

“Yeah, that!” Tara continues with a laugh. “And chloroplasts, and organelles that are found in eukaryotic cells were once their own prokaryotic cells that were then engulfed in a larger host cell. From there, they all developed a symbiotic relationship with each other, and from that, more complex life formed.”

 

“I didn’t know you liked biology so much,” Ange says, pleased as punch. “I have got to show you my lab sometime.”

 

“I love biology. Actually, I kind of want to be a doctor when I grow up.” 

 

“Do you wanna meet my mom?” Ange asks. For some reason, Tara’s eyes widen. “She’s a doctor. Maybe she can introduce you to someone in a field of medicine you prefer.”

 

Tara looks down thoughtfully. Then she smiles, and rests her head against Ange’s shoulder. “That sounds spankin’.”

 

“Riley, could you pull over so we can leave Tara on the side of the road please,” Bonnie says with syrup sweetness. 

 

Riley starts laughing. Tara lets out a mock offended gasp and reaches around Ange to flick Bonnie on the shoulder. Bonnie lets out a real offended gasp and reaches around Ange to flick Tara on the shoulder. Ange starts staring holes into Donavan’s skull as the two girls try to beat each other up around her. Bonnie unbuckles her seatbelt to lunge over Ange at Tara. It means she squishes completely against Ange. Something soft covers her vision. It’s nice and soft and smells like florals and spices.  

 

Life is good.

 

---

 

In the countless miles of Colorado wilderness, nestled in the countless miles of Colorado mountains, a building stands low to the ground. The front of it is pressed against a mountain, the rest of it merges into the rock. There are countable miles of tunnels drilled inside - a labyrinth resting deep in the earth. The only access in and out of these tunnels is one long elevator made from heavy duty steel. 

 

Below the elevator, through a certain pattern of tunnels, is a room made from cold steel. It has a metal bed, a trough for water, and another for excrement. There is a camera in every corner, pointed inwards. There is a bullet proof, two inch thick slab of glass for in-person viewing. 

 

A man of high rank stares at it. Around him, soldiers run this way and that. Beside him, his second shifts nervously. 

 

“Staff Sergeant Rourke,” she says. “We have people reviewing the footage right now.” As she shifts from side to side, a few shards of the two inch thick, bullet proof glass click underneath her thick boots. Every single one of its broken pieces are on the floor of the hallway, not inside the room. “It can’t have gotten far. The elevator is already on lockdown.” 

 

“We’ll see,” the man of high rank gruffs. The foreboding is obvious in his eyes. His shoulders are tensed straight. “That thing was smart enough to get out of this room, Sergeant Reyes.” It’s new information for all the people inside this base. Even Sergeant Reyes can’t keep the rattled look off her face. 

 

And then the gunfire sounds. Its distant pops carried through the sharp corners of the halls. Automatic weapons that keep firing and firing and firing. Underneath it is the sound of a roar, almost like a bear. Almost. 

 

Rourke grips the walkie talkie on his shoulder and turns it on. “I want everyone on that thing,” he screams through the speaker. “Every gun on it-” His voice chokes before he can say ‘over’. 

 

Silence. There’s silence. Rourke and Reyes stare at each other in mutual horror, because there shouldn’t be silence. 

 

Together, and with all the other soldiers beside them, they move towards where the bodies will be. As they get closer, the smell of gunpowder fills their noses. Then the metallic sting of blood. Rourke turns the corner first and clenches his jaw tight. 

 

Blood on the walls and ceiling, pooling on the floor. Bodies, mutilated in ways he forces himself to look at closely. An arm ripped off a body, a head caved in completely, a ribcage weeping and open underneath the fluorescent lights, guts scatter the floor with gore. His people lay broken in the hallway. Worse yet, not all of them are dead.

 

A man, just young enough to be a boy, groans. He sits against a wall with broken legs. Besides him is the elevator entrance, still in lockdown for all the good it’s done. The heavy steel doors have been pushed open, but not bent. The only silver lining is that it has not been bent. It is not that strong.

 

The boy beside the entrance stares upwards. He is hoping a higher being will come and save him. He can’t ask for it, though. He can’t speak at all anymore. The only thing he can do is breathe. It comes out in gurgles, tongue flapping against his neck. Placed on top of his forehead, like a tiara, is his mandible. 

 

One of the soldiers behind Reyes falls to his knees and pukes. 

 

A woman, old enough that the young ones call her mom, grits her teeth, but can’t keep the pained whimpers out of each breath. Her lower spine is snapped, and her torso is folded over the back of her legs. She makes eye contact with Rourke. There are tears streaming down her face. 

 

“Seargent,” she croaks. The only thing Rourke can bring himself to do is nod. He hears her. “Ki-kill that-” Her eyes start to glaze over. She inhales, trying to concentrate. “Kill- that thing...”

 

She exhales.

 

It’s her last.

 

Notes:

i dedicate this arc to the minor character olive and her halloween loving ways. mehehe

Chapter 74: Chapter 73

Notes:

death AND killing (probably should have been more explicit lol) are mentioned in this chapter. it is a horror movie plot, so expect more of that in the coming chapters. I'll give a heads up once the in text deaths stop.

Max’s cousin’s mountain lake house is nice. Like, really nice. Like, from the cover of an architectural magazine, has a view of the lake people would kill for, a heated pool in winter nice. Riley, Donavan, and Brick all gape at is as Riley pulls up to the private fucking driveway. There are already a few cars there. Bonnie sees Lucas’ own truck, Sierra’s jeep, Max’s sports car, Olive even brought her Volvo. As the night progresses, more people will come. 

 

If what Bonnie’s sussed out is true, there will be exactly thirty five of them. There were twenty bedrooms. As soon as Riley’s parked his truck, Bonnie opens the door. She’s gonna call dibs on the second best one (the first, obviously goes to Max).

 

“Thanks, Riley. Come on, girls. Chop, chop!” 

 

She hears Ange’s surprised ‘oh,’ then her and Tara’s ‘thank you, Riley.’ because they are polite young women. Then the other two start huffing it after her, because they’re obedient young women - most of the time. 

 

The house - well, mansion, it’s a huge mansion - the mansion has three stories. The first floor is full of general amenities. A kitchen, living room, game room, theater, spa, gym, a few guest bedrooms. All vital things. The second is for bedrooms and a library that Ange stares at when they pass by. It’s almost enough to get Bonnie to stop, but the second floor is a no go. Bonnie is not about to listen to footsteps above her. That’s for peons.

 

The third floor has the best views, too. Bonnie starts looking through each room until she finds her very favorite. A large king bed, a large window overlooking the backyard and lake, south facing to get sunlight all day. Most importantly, an on suite bathroom with a huge shower.  

 

“This one,” Bonnie says with a pleased smile. She sets her duffel on the bed. Tara sets her duffel on the bed. Ange blinks owlishly at the bed. 

 

“There’s only one bed,” Ange says. Observant girl, this one. 

 

“Did you want to find another bedroom?” Tara asks, smiling the neutral smile she’s picked up from Ange. Even Bonnie keeps her expression off her face. She wants to hear Ange’s answer, too.

 

“Uhm, well, I’ve just never shared a bed with anyone but Kim.”

 

“You’re such a virgin,” Bonnie says with an amused scoff. Ange goes red in the face. “C’mon, there’s more than enough room.” Then a thought hits her, and her good mood flies away. “Unless you’d rather share with Riley?”

 

“Wha-” Ange’s blush vanishes. She shakes her head. “No-no, that, uh, I mean, should I? I’ve never had a sleep over before. How do they go?”

 

Guilt, like smoke, chokes at Bonnie’s lungs. How much of this is her fault? 

 

Tara’s eyes widen. She walks over and takes Ange’s hand. “They’re easy,” she says, tone layered with sympathy. “We just hang out, then we sleep.” Ange stares at their entwined hands. It’s infuriating. “Us girls sleep together, and the boys share their own place.”

 

“Couples sleep together too,” Bonnie bites out, arms crossed, glaring at those hands, and reminding Tara that Ange is taken. The way it makes Tara frown curdles something in her stomach. The words have been said, she can’t take them back. 

 

Why does she have to be such a bitch all the time? 

 

“Oh,” Ange doesn’t frown. In fact, she looks a little amused. “No thank you. I’d rather sleep here.” Then she sets her duffel down on the bed, and Bonnie feels a little better. 

 

---

 

It’s too late to go hiking, the sun is almost about to set. But there’s a pool, and it’s heated. Unspoken agreement has everyone congregating there in swimsuits and jackets. Up in the mountains, it gets especially chilly. 

 

“One rule!” Max says, climbing up on the built in, out door, brick pizza oven. He points at the bar on the inside of the house, visible through the large glass window pane. “That alcohol is up for grabs!” The crowd erupts in cheers. “But no glass near the pool, guys! My cousin will kill me.” 

 

“Anything for you, Max!” someone yells from the crowd. Max puffs out his chest with a smirk. He pulls his sweatshirt off, throws it somewhere, and leaps cannon-ball style into the water. Keon, in charge of the music, turns on a tune. The party begins. 

 

Bonnie sits at the pool edge with her back to the lake, letting her feet sway in warm water. From here, she can see the entire party.

 

A crowd has congregated inside by the bar. Josh is behind it, dolling out drinks, bartender-style, into plastic red solo cups. Bonnie will go visit after the rush. It’s not worth the hassle. All of her cheerleaders are here, she can pick each one out of the crowd (Kim doesn’t count). Tara is conversing with Madison and Olive. Brick, Riley, and Donavan are hanging out on a bench, talking about something under the warm tone of fairy lights. 

 

Dear god, they’re really becoming friends. Bonnie rests her chin on her hand, and her elbow on her knee with a tired sigh. Donavan is creeping into her life, and it’s all Ange’s fault. 

 

Bonnie is just about to pick out who she’s going to socialize with when someone comes up and sits beside her. A red solo cup is pressed into her hand. Ange’s eyes are dark in the low light of dusk. Messy bangs obscure them further. Bonnie almost reaches up to tidy them. 

 

“Thanks for dragging me into this,” Ange says, looking at some of the people splashing around in the pool. She scans it back and forth, almost like a life guard. Maybe exactly like one. Her smile gives nothing away, though. Bonnie eyes it for a bit.

 

“What’s on your mind, Possible?” Bonnie sips her drink. A vodka-cranberry. She hides her smile with her red cup. It’s her favorite mix, right down to the ratio.

 

“I’m wondering how I can lengthen the battery life of my lightsaber. And what else I should add to Kim’s stealth suit before I give it to her for testing- Ack!” A fingernail is removed from Ange’s sturdy side. Bonnie looks at it to make sure nothing has chipped.

 

“No, you dummy. You told me you were in a funk,” Bonnie says. Then she blinks and turns to Ange. “Did you say lightsaber?” Ange grins wide.

 

“Well, I can’t officially call it that, but I’ll show it off later.” 

 

“You brought it with you?”

 

“I was planning on giving it to Kim after the game, but we never linked up.” Kim had gotten a call from her nerd friend. Something about a DNAmy or whatever. Bonnie can’t help feeling happy Ange never got to give her the saber. Why should Kim get all the nice things? “It's pretty baller.” 

 

Bonnie nods, acquiescing. It is pretty baller. “And nerdy.”

 

“You knew that about me already,” Ange points out lightly. At this point, Bonnie’s accepted it. Nothing will take the nerd out of her Angie.

 

“I did. Now tell me why you’re in such a funk, Angie,” Bonnie orders. She still remembers their conversation over lunch. From the way Ange tenses, she knows Ange does too. Timidly, Ange looks around the pool. Bonnie watches the shadows move along her neck as she swallows. 

 

“I... I need to tell you something,” Ange murmurs quietly. Bonnie has to lean a little closer to hear her. “But, I can’t- can we do it later.” She gestures around at all the people. “Not here, at least.”

 

Bonnie throws her head back and finishes her entire drink in one, large gulp. Before the alcohol can hit, she pulls herself to her feet. “Come on, Possible.”

 

“Huh?” 

 

“Let’s go somewhere private.” 

 

“But what about the party?” Ange asks, voice wavering. Bonnie looks at all the people around them. Laughter, conversation, a mass of people enjoying themselves. Opportunity ripe for plucking. Then she looks at Ange, sitting by the pool. Her face an open expression obscured by the dark shadow night. 

 

“What about the par- AH!” 

 

From the side of the lake, a figure dashes out. It captures Bonnie in strong arms. For a split second, she’s airborne. Her eyes stay locked on Ange, whose eyes widen almost comically. Bonnie remembers to take a deep breath at the last possible moment, and then she’s underwater. The world becomes a muffled rush of noise and limbs. She kicks out with her knee, burying it in an unprotected belly. Finally free, Bonnie swims upwards and breaks the surface. Open air greets her lungs. A chorus of cheering and laughter fills her ears. 

 

Besides her, drenched, grinning even through a pained expression, Carson’s head pops above the water.

 

“Damn, I got you good!” He says with a roaring laugh. Bonnie shoots him a glare. For good measure, she reaches over and smacks him a few times. He barely even notices it. “Come on, everyone!” He shouts, easily cutting through the noise. “Let's get crazy!” 

 

Someone turns the music louder, ramping up the energy of everyone by the pool. More people start jumping in. Bonnie looks around in exasperation until she finds Ange again. She’s watching Bonnie with a gentle smile. Bonnie swims over to her, resting her elbows on the side of the pool by Ange’s lap. 

 

“I guess it can wait,” Bonnie mutters in defeat. Ange reaches down and removes some of the bangs obscuring her vision. It’s done so carefully Bonnie feels warmth in her chest. Maybe it’s the alcohol, or the heated pool.

 

“Okie dokie,” Ange says. She pulls off her sweatshirt, revealing a crop top rash guard (Bonnie is taking her to get a bikini the moment they’re back in civilization) and chiseled abs. The grin Ange gives her is goofy, not that Bonnie notices. With grace, not even disturbing the surface, Ange slips into the water.

 

“Let's have some fun!”

 

---

 

In the distant parts of the house, a window shatters.

 

Blue eyes fly open. Darkness greets her. She reaches over to the nightstand and turns on the lamp that rests upon it. The room is illuminated, plain white. This is a place for sleeping only. Besides her, her husband groans.

 

“What is it?” he says, rolling over and half asleep.

 

“I don’t know.” She strains her ears. There is no noise. Somehow, that’s worse. “It sounded like glass breaking.”

 

“Damnit,” her companion sits up and rubs his eyes. “I bet it was the cat.” They have two. An inside cat, and a tom that catches mice in the barn. “I’ll go clean it up, sweetheart.” It manages to get a smile, albeit a nervous one.

 

“I bet,” she says. She doesn’t sound convinced. The hair on the back of her neck is standing up. “Thank you, dear. I’m going to check on Thomas.” Her husband grunts. Together, they roll out of bed and leave the room. The halls of their house are familiar. She breaks off to look into the room of her small son. His crib is still tucked in the corner. Thomas grew out of it only days ago and is sleeping soundly on a little race car bed her husband had made and painted by hand.

 

The rise and fall of his little chest brings a warm and gentle smile to her face. Not wanting to wake her boy, she leaves the light off. 

 

Her husband, still tired, walks towards the living room. There’s a bathroom in the hallway right at its entrance, but the only glass in there is from a mirror medicine cabinet. He ignores it to glance around the larger living area. It’s dark, but he can just make out the form of their indoor cat flopped over on the couch. 

 

The fucker loves to cause destruction then sleep, he thinks. His lips twitch despite his annoyance as he continues his survey of the room. A couch, a television, a loveseat, paintings on the wall are all accounted for. The large window with the view to the front yard is in pieces on the floor. 

 

Blood turns to ice in his veins. He inhales to yell, not noticing that the bathroom door has opened wide. He gets a half note out, a yelp that ends before it’s even begun, when a long arm reaches out from the darkness. A palm bigger than his head covers his face. Fingers, thick as tree branches, wrap around his skull. The scent of animal musk and soil fill his nose for one second. Then he realizes he can’t breathe anymore.

 

He tries to continue his scream, he really does, but it’s muffled. He can’t inhale. Leather thick skin forms a perfect seal around his orifices. His limbs flail, legs kicking at nothing, fists pounding on an arm as thick as a log and covered in fur so matted it absorbs every impact. His lungs start to burn, the pressure on his skull is unimaginable. Horror as his body lets his limbs grow heavy. Terror and pain bring tears to his eyes, but he can’t sob. 

 

After a moment, he can’t do anything at all. He becomes a thing. Meat.

 

The arm drags the meat into the bathroom.

 

His widow walks out of her son’s bedroom. She closes the door with a soft click and looks down the hall. It’s empty. She frowns. None of the lights beside their bedroom have been turned on.

 

“Sweetheart?” Some unknown instinct makes her whisper it. “Did you find it?” 

 

The light to the bathroom turns on. 

 

Some of the tension in her chest uncoils. She takes a few steps towards the other end of the hallway. “Tell me when you’re done,” she says, managing to laugh at her fear. “I need to use the john.” The sound of the flushing toilet makes her grin. Perfect timing. She finishes her trek and opens the bathroom door. 

 

Meat dangles in front of her. A mass of brown, like wet soil, is behind it. The view is so incomprehensible it takes a few seconds to even digest what she’s looking at. It’s what dooms her. 

 

The second, five fingered hand snaps out, as quick as lightning. It wraps around her mouth and neck. She lets out panicked exhales through her nose. Muffled screams get more desperate when she finally sees its face. Oh god, its face.

 

Clattering in the hallway wakes up a little boy. He blinks his sleepy eyes open and yawns. His room is a little dark, but the light filtering underneath his door is enough for him to see. It softens the shadows into something more comfortable. It’s not enough for Thomas.

 

“Mama,” a little boy calls. His voice is clumsy, the syllables tumble out of him. Noise travels closer to his bedroom. “Mama,” sleepy excitement makes him sit up and stretch. The light underneath his door gets blocked, and the door swings open. Light floods the room, and her mama’s figure floats inside.

 

Thomas is only two, he doesn’t understand what’s wrong with her, only that something is wrong.

 

“Mama?” He calls again, scared. Something big is holding her up off the floor by her armpits. Her neck hangs at an angle, and it lolls this way and that as she hovers closer. Thomas starts scrambling backwards in his race car bed. “Mama?!” he shrieks, clutching at his blankie.

 

The thing finally enters the room. It’s so large it must stoop underneath the door frame. It’s so large, it can’t even stand at its full height inside his bedroom. Thomas shrieks again, “Daddy! Daddy! Mama!” 

 

His mama gets placed on top of his legs. It’s a gentle movement, not that the boy would understand it. He stares at lifeless eyes and struggles as hard as he can. Thomas is only two. 

 

He can’t lift her. 

 

---

 

Tara flops onto the bed and bounces, laughing. “Bonnie, come cuddle with me!”

 

Bonnie rolls her eyes fondly. She hangs her towel up to dry in the bathroom and walks over to sit daintily onto the bed. 

 

Since Brick volunteered to be her fake boyfriend, Bonnie’s been testing his theory that she’s gay. The last few days had been about observing girls. She’d watched Crystal and Hope during her math class. They have nice legs, but everyone on the cheer team does. That doesn’t mean she’s about to hop into bed with them. Sierra is gorgeous (Bonnie still needs to figure out her hair routine) but Bonnie didn’t feel any particular urge to shove her tongue down Sierra’s throat. Madison had leaned on her for five entire minutes before her chem class. She was a warm and comfortable pressure, but Bonnie doesn’t want to date her. 

 

Ange had given her a pleasant, unreadable smile at chem too. Bonnie is still trying to pick it apart in her head. She’d looked divine in the pool, but it’s not gay to admire someone's physique. 

 

So, her observations just proved something she already knew. She’s not gay, Brick is just being an idiot. That’s fine. It benefits her in the long run. 

 

A pair of slender arms wrap around her waist and Bonnie finds herself pulled into bed with a yelp. “Hey!” Tara ignores her. Instead, she pulls Bonnie against her so they’re front to back and lets out happy little hums. If Bonnie squirms out of this now, Tara will pout. Not worth it.

 

“You took too long,” is all Tara says. Bonnie can feel her lay her chin on the top of Bonnie’s head. It’s nice. Despite the forceful acquisition, Bonnie finds herself starting to relax. 

 

“The world doesn’t revolve around you, Tara,” Bonnie snarks, shifting closer to her. “It revolves around me. So, like, watch yourself.”

 

Behind her, Tara starts laughing. She can feel Tara’s body shake against her. “Sorry, queenie.”

 

Good, the girl knows her place. Bonnie lets herself preen. Since Tara has been a cuddler for as long as they’ve known each other, Bonnie knows she’ll be here for a while. She pulls her flip phone out and frowns. There’s no service. Maybe it’s the mountains? 

 

She catches up on the last few texts she got from earlier this afternoon. Keon spoke to Lucas who spoke to Monique (easily the most tolerable of Kim’s friend group) who says she’s thinking about hosting a killer Halloween party. That would be interesting. She’s never been to Monique’s before. Olive has sent her an update on her sexy toothpaste costume (unbelievable… It is pretty funny, though). 

 

It reminds her that she needs to get the pieces for her cat costume. She should go shopping with Tara for that. Maybe she could even get Ange to join them. She’s going as a werewolf, isn’t she? What does a sexy werewolf even look like? 

 

Floppy ears, an adorable wagging tail, maybe some sharp teeth - she already has the collar, too. The mental image of Ange with dog accessories pops into her head. Bonnie lets out an amused huff, which catches Tara’s attention. 

 

“What’s on your mind?” Tara asks. She sounds a little drowsy. In her defense, this is a very comfortable, warm place to be right now. The scent of citrus sweetness makes Bonnie want to close her eyes and nap too.

 

“Just thinking about Halloween. Let's link up next weekend and get our costumes.”

 

“So yes.”

 

Bonnie makes a noise of agreement. Her eyelids feel a little heavy, so she closes them. The darkness gives her a blanket to think under. Out of everyone in the world, Tara’s the one that has stuck with her the longest - for obvious reasons, Lonnie and Connie don’t count. For more obvious reasons, neither do her parents. 

 

“Hey, Tara?” If anyone can keep a secret, it’s her Tara. She’s the perfect sounding board.

 

“Mm?” 

 

“For some reason, Brick has this ridiculous thought that I like girls.”

 

Tara goes stiff behind her. It means her arms clutch Bonnie a little tighter. That’s nice. “What?” 

 

“That’s what I said! Like, the idea is so left field. That’s not even the crazy part.”

 

“There’s something even crazier than Brick thinking you like girls?” Tara says, a bit incredulous. Bonnie nods her head in agreement. 

 

“He wants to be my beard. Apparently, that’s when he pretends-”

 

“Pretends to be your boyfriend, right?” Tara says. “Like, you’re not actually dating him anymore.”

 

“Pretty much,” Bonnie says. “I’m not, like, complaining or anything. He’s a fine boyfriend. Just, like, not really my type of boy.”

 

“Well, what is your type then?” There’s thoughtfulness in Tara’s voice. It’s a good question, though. Bonnie thinks about it for a while.

 

“They’d have to be smart,” Bonnie eventually says. “And, like, hot. Ambitious, too.” 

 

“Not nice?” Tara says, sounding amused. Bonnie scoffs. 

 

“They have to be nice to me.”

 

“Oh, of course,” Tara chuckles. “You’re majesty.” 

 

“See, you get it.” Bonnie reaches behind her and rubs the top of Tara’s head. “Good girl.” 

 

“...So, do you like girls?” 

 

“No?” Bonnie laughs, rolling onto her back. It means she can see Tara and her bright and beautiful blue eyes. “Like, I’ve dated boys my whole life. That’s gotta mean something.” She says it obviously, because it’s obviously a good point. 

 

“Did you like them?” 

 

“Dating isn’t about liking people, Tara.” Also another obviously good point. “It’s about being the hottest couple.” A hand reaches up and tucks a lock of hair behind Bonnie’s ear. When she looks at Tara, there’s something she can’t read behind those eyes. 

 

“It sounds like you don’t like boys,” Tara says as lightly as she can, but it’s deliberate too. Bonnie tenses, narrowing her eyes to force Tara into submission. Infuriatingly, it doesn’t work.

 

“What is that supposed to mean?” Bonnie asks, growling. For some reason, Tara is looking at her gently, like she can read the thoughts underneath her thoughts. Anger begins to bubble underneath Bonnie’s skin. “Tara, what the fuck are you talking about-”

 

“Wanna try it?” 

 

“Huh?” Bonnie says smartly.

 

“Brick thinks you like girls, right?”

“Tara, Brick is an idiot.” Tara cocks an eyebrow in challenge. That gets Bonnie back in the game. She grits her teeth. “He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.”

 

“So, let’s try it,” Tara says, propping herself up onto her hands and knees.

 

“Huh?” Bonnie says smartly, except this time her voice cracks. Tara has the audacity to grin at that as she climbs over Bonnie. Each of her hands rests on either side of Bonnie’s head. Bonnie’s world becomes nothing but Tara’s beautiful face, curtained by platinum blonde hair.

 

“Bonnie.” Tara leans in a little closer, watching her. Bonnie watches back, except it’s a bit too... There’s too much going on to figure out how to think right now. “I’m going to kiss you.”

 

“T-that doesn’t mean anything,” Bonnie manages to say, finally finding her words. Her cheeks feel warm no matter how much she tries to shove it away. “We’ve done that before.” 

 

“It’s just practice, right?” Tara says. She’s slowly moving closer to Bonnie’s face. The closer she gets, the wider Bonnie’s eyes are. “So it’s okay.”

 

“I-I guess so?” Bonnie tries to keep her breathing even. The world smells just like Tara, from her perfume to her shampoo. If she inhales too much, she’ll get dizzy. “W-what if Ange comes back.” After Ange had showered, she’d told the girls she was going to check out the second floor library. Nerd.

 

“Maybe she’ll join us,” Tara says teasingly. Bonnie feels something warm travel down to her belly. She licks her lips, and it makes Tara lean in a little closer. Then, for some reason, Tara hesitates.

 

“Tell me not to,” Tara says with a tilt of her head. “Tell me not to and I’ll stop right now.” 

 

Bonnie can’t find her voice. A moment passes, Tara assesses. When she starts closing the distance between them, Bonnie scrunches her eyes shut. Her world goes dark as a pair of lips, petal soft and strawberry glossed, press against her own. 

 

It takes her breath away.

 

Chapter 75: Chapter 74

DNAmy is a bit of an odd duck. Kim is pretty sure if she called her that, she might quack. She’s also a mad scientist, a genius geneticist, weird, and evil. The question is: does her weirdness supercede her evil, or does her evil supercede her weirdness? Normally, Kim would have an answer to that. Today, she doesn’t.

 

“Oh, thank you so much for coming,” DNAmy says. Her lair is one of the odder villain lairs Kim has been in. Vats full of growing things fill the room. Kim is pretty sure she sees a nervous system growing around a spine, and that’s just one of the crazy things going on in here. A large, electrical array hugs the other wall, powering the contraptions.

 

Kim takes all of this in through the peripherals of her vision. Never take your eyes off your opponent, and right now, that’s DNAmy.  “I could really use your help.” DNAmy says, and Kim tacks on a maybe to the prior thought.

 

Ron gives her a confused glance. Kim shrugs. “I gotta admit, I wasn’t expecting to hear that from you.”

 

DNAmy tuts, waving her hands in the air like a bluebird. “Oh, let's put our differences behind each other. Something important is afoot and I can’t fix it without your help.”

 

Suspicious, but willing to humor her (the longer she’s talking, the more time Rufus has to find the self-destruct. Also, more time for the authorities to assemble.), Kim smiles. “Well, what’s the ‘sitch?”

 

Her catchphrase makes DNAmy giggle, then it stops short as she pouts. “A bunch of meany beanies came in and stole something from me!” The stout woman stomps a foot into the concrete floor. “I need you to get it back.”

 

“Okay….” Kim purses her lips. “And.. why do you think I’d get it back for you?”

 

“Well, you help people, don’t you?” 

 

“Not villains,” Kim says with unamused, lidded eyes. Some of the hope seems to drain from DNAmy. Kim thinks a bit more on the matter, and it’s not just because she feels bad. “But, tell me what exactly was stolen. Maybe I can make an exception.” Quickly, DNAmy regains her usual cheer.

 

“It’s my favorite new creation!” DNAmy waves a hand, then starts walking farther into the lair. It’s a giant warehouse of a space, partitioned off by vats of growing things to make individual rooms. It must take a lot of power, because the array crackles with electricity. Rather than rewire anything, DNAmy has just painted a giant yellow and black box around the area, labelled ‘Approach And Fry’. “One of them, at least.”

 

In one of the partitions, two glass vats of liquid towers over the rest, stretching all the way to the ceiling. A creature, about twelve feet tall, with arms that go past its knees, and soil brown fur, floats in one. The other has been cracked open like a drained egg. Empty, with shards of glass still on the vat floor. Kim, Ron, and even Rufus stop in place to stare. 

 

“What is it?” Ron says, the first to shake out of this stupor. Fear makes him quick. 

 

“It’s a himpalo,” DNAmy says, walking over to the computer attached to the two vats. She types something on it. Ron and Kim exchange a glance.

 

“What, uh, exactly is a.. himpalo?” Kim says, walking a little closer to see what DNAmy is up to. She’s pulling up some grainy security camera footage, clearly back before the first himpalo got stolen. The two creatures float peacefully in viscous liquid. 

 

“It’s a fabulous creature,” the mad scientist giggles. “All the intelligence of a human, the tenacity of a water buffalo, and the sadism of a chimpanzee.” 

 

Behind her, Kim hears Ron let out a horrified squeak, no doubt thinking about Camp Wannaweep. Even Kim grimaces at the thought. That himpalo thing… looks awful. 

 

“Isn’t it wonderful?” DNAmy asks with a dreamy sigh. Kim tries to turn her grimace into a smile and fails.

 

“Why on earth would you make something like that?” Kim asks instead. DNAmy blinks at her for a few awkward moments. She looks at the himpalo and thinks for another few awkward moments. Then she shrugs and doesn’t answer the question.

 

“But look at this!” She says, moving the conversation along. Her forefinger presses the spacebar of her computer. The security footage starts playing, and as it goes on, Kim starts to feel a bit more horrified. “Look at those grumpy stumpies taking away my research!” 

 

Soldiers swarm the room with military precision. United States military precision, not that they’re any flags on those shoulders. Something like this would obviously require discretion. One of the people places a charge on a vat. They all step back and let it explode. The footage goes shaky. When it refocuses, the freed himpalo is being dragged (it takes three men on each side to do it) onto a large rolling cart, then pulled out of frame.

 

There’s something else about the footage that sets off her instincts, but she’s not exactly sure what it is just yet. “Could you play it one more time for me?”

 

“Easy peasy!” DNAmy rewinds the footage, then starts playing it again. There are fifteen soldiers. They enter the frame in waves, then fan around each other, guns pointed outwards. One of the soldiers runs up to the vat and places a charge on the glass.

 

“Hey, KP?”

 

“One second, Ron.” 

 

The soldier pulls back. Heavy metal shields deploy between them and the explosive. Someone presses a button, it goes off, the camera footage goes shaky. Kim stares at it until it refocuses. Soldiers drag the himpalo onto the cart. Kim knows she’s missing something.

 

“Kim,” Ron says again. He sounds a little worried, but she needs to focus.

 

“Hold on, Ron,” Kim says, staring harder at the video. Her eyebrows furrow, her jaw sets. The soldiers start pulling it out of frame. “DNAmy, why do they even know about this thing?” she asks one of the questions needling her psyche.

 

DNAmy sucks on her teeth. “Well… I might have done an oopsie doodle…” Kim looks at her promptingly. “I did blab a little about my new special creation on the terror net,” DNAmy looks down at the floor, abashed. “I guess word got around.”

 

Wordlessly, but judgingly, Kim reaches over and restarts the feed. Some people can be so smart, and so stupid. To distract herself, she observes the video again.

 

Soldiers enter, set the charge, press the button, the feed turns to static. Kim keeps watching as it refocuses, and it finally clicks.

 

“Kim!” Ron says one more time. Kim looks up and at him, fists clenched. Green eyes meet warm brown, and they both realize they know at the same time. On the computer screen, floating in the intact vat, the second himpalo is in a different position. In tandem, they look up at the creature.

 

It’s staring at them.

 

“Ope,” DNAmy says. “She’s not supposed to be awake.”

 

“I guessed,” Kim grinds out, crouching down into a battle stance. How does one fight against a creature so big? She’ll figure it out. 

 

“Try not to hurt her, will you?” DNAmy scampers a little backwards. “She’s a beautiful creation.” 

 

She must be able to hear DNAmy, because she smiles . On a flat face, with a flat and upturned nose, and black eyes that highlight the whites of its irises, it’s an awful sight. At least it doesn’t have any fangs. The himpalo presses a huge, huge hand against the glass vat.

 

“Ron,” Kim says, reaching for her utility belt. “Please get DNAmy out of the room.”

 

“Do you got this, Kim?” Ron says with a nervously scratchy voice. Kim narrows her eyes and smirks.

 

“Anything’s possible.”

 

That’s all she needs to say. Ron grabs DNAmy by the hand and starts hoofing it towards the exit. Kim trusts him to put her in cuffs and wait for the authorities to get there. A crack forms on the glass. Kim stops worrying about it. 

 

---

 

The Colorado woods are covered in mist this Saturday morning. Grey soup fills the air, so thick visibility is only twenty or so feet. Bonnie Rockwaller walks out onto the large graveled private driveway and two very tired girls follow her. 

 

Who in their right mind gets up willingly at four in the gosh diddly darn morning? Ange bursts into sleep deprived giggles. Besides her, Tara glances curiously. Ange doesn’t bother explaining. It would just make her sound insane. 

 

“I knew you’d be fine,” Bonnie says from the front. The gravel crunches underneath her white, knee high boots. Ange follows the sight up to an expanse of brown thighs, then the hem of a white skirt. Then she realizes Tara is still looking at her and her face turns red. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Tara smirk. “You’re such a baby, Angie.”

 

“I’m a little guy,” Ange manages to choke out. “Like, itsy bitsy.” 

 

That gets Bonnie to look over her shoulder with befuddled, narrowed eyes.

 

Ange is flushed like a cherry and staring resolutely straight ahead. Tara is smirking, staring resolutely at Ange. 

 

Turquoise eyes dart between the two, so Ange decides to say something before conclusions are drawn. “Uhm, why did we have to wake up so early, though?” This morning, caught in the middle of two beautiful women, she’d been smacked awake by a fluffy pillow. Not the worst way to wake up, except Bonnie wanted up immediately, and Tara didn’t even complain as she rolled out of bed and onto the floor. Ange’s dream scenario involved more cuddling. 

 

“Because if we wait for later, the others might try and play with it,” Bonnie says. She doesn’t even need to say ‘duh’, the tone implies enough. They come to a stop in the middle of the driveway. A row of cars line the far side, up against the forest. The mansion is at their back. They stand on flat, open space, perfect for playing with ‘it’.

 

Ange thumbs the hilt of her lightsaber on her belt. 

 

“Why don’t you wanna share?” Tara asks from beside her. The pout on her face is so cute, Ange is tempted to give in and let Tara have a try. Still, she shakes her head.

 

“It looks fun, but this isn’t a toy.” Ange pulls her saber free. “This thing cuts with no resistance.” Making sure she’s several feet from Bonnie and Tara, Ange finally turns it on. Green light throws shadow across her face and colors the fog. “That means no mistakes, or you could be out an arm or a leg.” The nearest hospital is three hours away if you go ten miles over the speed limit. She is taking no chances with her girls.

 

“Just show us the cool lightsaber, Possible,” Bonnie says. Ange’s lip twitches. Swordplay isn’t something she is familiar with. The arts are something she consumes and rarely partakes in. But sworddance, she’s done before, and physical movement comes easy to her. Ange closes her eyes. 

 

When she was a child, her mama had taken her to visit her grandfather. A familial obligation fulfilled once, and only once. He was a man who did bad things, Dolores had told her. Mostly, Ange remembered him bouncing her on his knee.

 

Movement. Ange extends her arm, letting the saber hum a note. She bends her torso at the hip, and it draws an elegant green line in the fog. Vapor hisses as her blade passes through it. 

 

During that summer, she’d followed her grandfather around, a little duckling shadow. He’d allowed it, despite the many aunties, uncles, and men that stalked his smokey words. Having the ear of the Kostrama patriarch is a fine blessing. Ange had been spoiled rotten by the end of her stay.

 

Ange twists herself, sword arm arcing smoothly up and over. Her other follows the current. At the apex, she lets her wrist rise and fall like gentle ocean waves. This dance is about tempo, anticipation, and the releasing of it. 

 

To keep her occupied, Dolores had signed her into lessons on this artform. Grandfather had insisted Ange use a real sword. Mama, warm and distant as a mountain peak, had agreed. All Kostrama children learn the responsibility of one's own body. It forges the mettle required for harsher life lessons. 

 

Her leg extends, she straightens herself upon it, pointing her blade to the heavens. It comes down in spirals, waltzing around her front, back, and side. She steps forwards twice, and the pebbles underneath her feet do not shift. 

 

The deep ocean blue of her eyes doesn’t come from her mama, who has pupils so deep and brown it borders on red. It doesn’t come from her father, with dark, gentle eyes. It comes from her grandmother, a woman she can never meet. The color of Ange’s skin and hair are an echo of her too. 

 

A blade sings beside her ear as she pulls it parallel to her back. She pushes her free hand towards the horizon, then pulls it back to her center. Seamlessly, Ange extends her saber, allowing her weight sway onto the corresponding leg. Her back twists in its direction. Their little world of mist dyes green. 

 

Her pallet is not unique, and neither is the shape of her face. Everything, from the tilt of her eyes, the curve of her nose, and the thickness of her lips is an exact replica of her grandfather - a man who does bad things. A man who will bounce her on his knee if she asks him to.

 

Ange toggles the trigger of her lightsaber. It recedes back into its hilt, and the only sounds to be heard are of the forest. She slides it into a loop of her belt. Ocean eyes open to look at her girls. 

 

The smile on Tara’s face makes her stand up straighter. Even Bonnie, the most elegant dancer she has ever seen, looks impressed. Ange feels cheeky enough to give them a little bow, and it makes Tara let out a happy squeak. Suddenly, she sprints forward and flings herself into the air. Ange opens her arms and catches her with a grin.

 

“Angie,” Bonnie says, eyeing them carefully. But there’s something underneath the expression. Maybe jealousy? It’s hard to tell when Bonnie’s lips twist into a fox-grin. “We have so got to go dancing next weekend.”

 

“OMG, yes please!” Tara says, nodding vigorously. Who could say no to that? 

 

“It’s a deal,” Ange laughs out. “But, like, please dress me. I’ve never been to a club before.” The gleam in Bonnie’s eye is absolutely stunning. Bonnie shifts her body weight. Ange shifts Tara to the side just in time. Bonnie leaps forward, Ange bends her knees and scoops Bonnie right out of the air. 

 

“You so know how to spoil me,” Bonnie purrs, close enough to Ange’s ear that it goes red. Ange can see Bonnie notice it, which just makes her ears flush brighter. 

 

“Well,” Ange awkwardly says, spinning them around until she hears laughter. “I live to please.” 

 

---

 

The Colorado woods are covered in mist this Saturday morning. An aging man steps out of his mansion and onto the porch. A cup of coffee rests comfortably in his hand. The view of the lake is completely obscured. Maybe it’s a trick of the light, but he swears he sees flashes of green on the other side of it, far, far in the distance. Definitely a trick of the light. 

 

Normally, he would stop here and watch the world wake up. On the days with no view, he likes to go for a walk. Just a little one, not too far from the house. His son had cut a path in the woods for him. A simple half mile loop that helped get his heart pumping. He takes a long sip of his coffee, black with one sugar, then sets it on the sturdy fence of his porch deck. He’ll finish it when he gets back.

 

With retired languidity, the man ambles into the woods. A tall thing, with arms so long they go past its knees, follows him just as slowly down the path.

 

Chapter 76: Chapter 75

 

The giant hand of the himpalo pushes through the glass. Liquid drains out of the hole, leaving thick and gooey splashes on the floor. With less displacement, it can finally touch the ground with its feet, and the moment it does, it moves one of its massive legs. With ease, it steps through the glass. Shards spear out from the impact of its foot, then its entire body as it walks onto the floor. Kim skips backwards, far enough away to be out of range of the things long reach.

 

Then it doubles over and lets out a wretched heave. Whatever was in that vat was also into the himpalo’s lungs. It vomits it out in heavy coughs. Each one splashes more and more puddles onto the ground. Kim grimaces. That’s super gross.

 

DNAmy said it had the intelligence of a human, right? 

 

“Hey… are you okay?” Kim asks.

 

The himpalo goes still, doubled over. An occasional drop falls to the floor. The himpalo lifts its massive head to look at Kim. The smile it gives her is.. Gentle? It’s really hard to tell with the ribbons of liquid oozing down its chin.

 

When it stands up to its full height, it towers over her. Then it holds out a giant hand, palm up at the sky. Kim stares at it. After a beat, she follows its long arm up to the face of the creature. The himpalo watches her with patient acceptance. It even nods, as if to urge her to take it. 

 

Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? Cautiously, with a hopeful smile, Kim places her hand in its palm. It lets out a rumble, pleased, and nods more vigorously. The himpalo sits down onto her haunches. 

 

“Oh, you’re not so bad,” Kim says. It wraps its huge hand around hers with only gentle pressure. It tugs, not hard, but enough to get her to stumble a bit. “Hey, be careful,” Kim says, tugging her arm back. The himpalo grips her hand a little tighter, not letting go.

 

DNAmy said it was part human. Kim can see it in the amused, wide smile the himpalo hasn’t stopped giving her. 

 

Kim tugs her arm a little harder. In response, the himpalo starts to pull Kim towards itself. It makes her stumble a few paces, but she regains her footing quickly, making sure never to take her eyes off the himpalo. It’s watching her with the same intensity. The closer it pulls her, the tighter its grip gets, until it’s just shy of painful. Finally, she’s right in front of the thing. Even sitting down, the himpalo is taller. Kim has to crane her neck backwards to look at it. 

 

Then the himpalo looks to its side and reaches a long arm out. It picks up a shard of glass. DNAmy had also said it has the sadism of a chimpanzee. 

 

“Augh,” Kim says. “That’s ferociously creepy.” 

 

She takes a deep breath and holds it. Using her free hand, she pops open her lip gloss of stinky smells (that’s what Ron likes to call it) and presses it directly into the himpalo’s nose. 

 

All it takes is one huff for it to let Kim go. The himpalo lets out a gagging snarl, clutching its nose with both of its massive hands. Kim watches as it weakens. With a mighty thump, its back hits the ground. She nudges it with her foot to make sure it doesn’t move. Out cold.

 

“Spankin’.” She pulls her Kimmunicator out of her pocket. “Hey, Wade!” Kim says happily. Wade grins at her over the straw of his big gulp. “How’s Ron doing?” 

 

“Just fine, Kim,” he says. “The police are about fifteen minutes out.” DNAmy’s base is kind of remote. 

 

“They have tranquilizers, right?” 

 

“They always bring that for DNAmy calls.”

 

“Perfect. Make sure they bring a big truck too.” Kim grins, picking her way towards the computer DNAmy has used earlier. “Could you do me a favor?” 

 

“Sure, Kim, what’s up?” 

 

“I want to show you some footage,” Kim says, linking her Kimmunicator to the computer. “Apparently, some people stole the other half of DNAmy’s experiment.” Wade frowns at the news. He puts his big gulp down and starts typing as data streams in on his end. “This thing.. well, it’s mean, Wade. Real mean. I don’t like that it's in other people's hands. I’m thinking they might be military.” 

 

“I’ll start tracking them down.”

 

Gratefulness fills Kim’s chest. “You rock, Wade. Have I told you that?”

 

“Only every mission.” He laughs. “I’ll let you know when I find anything.” With mutual nods, the screen on the Kimmunicator goes black. Kim pockets it. Then she turns around to head to the exit and all the hair on the back of her neck stands up straight.

 

All she can see is the viscous liquid of vat fluid and broken glass. The himpalo isn’t where she left it. 

 

Instinct makes her move. She leaps into a roll as something crashes into the computer setup she’d just been standing beside. On her feet, she doesn’t stop running. That thing has long arms - longer than any human. Kim needs to keep its range in mind if she isn’t going to get hurt. 

 

She chances a glance over her shoulder, and is immediately proven right. A massive hand snatches at her, and it misses only by an inch. Instead, the hand hits the floor. The himpalo uses it to start crawling after her at speed. It opens its smiling mouth and starts laughing - something gasping, uneven, almost like a shriek. 

 

Kim pulls out her grapple and aims it at the sky. A second later, her shoulder jerks and she’s airborne. A flick of her wrist swings her grapple free from its hold. As it zips back into her hairdryer, Kim flips in the air. The himpalo has overshot and is sailing underneath her. Kim snaps her hips to the side. The thud of her shin connecting to the back of its sturdy head is loud in her ear. 

 

It does nothing. 

 

The himpalo turns its head. From its profile, one round eye flicks over to look at her. Kim starts to fall. Mid run, the himpalo starts to twist onto its back, and Kim knows she has to move very quickly or else she’ll lose this fight right now. 

 

She reaches out an open hand, jamming her palm on a thick finger as the himpalo starts its first swipe at her. Kim uses the leverage to pull herself to the side and over the grasp. A flick of her wrist sends her spinning in the air and downwards, underneath the himpalo’s other hand. She lands on its chest, hands and feet digging into fur so thick and matted, she knows any punch she throws at it won’t work. 

 

Long arms start to constrict, but Kim is already scrambling upwards. Her knee jams right into its nose as the himpalo’s back finally hits the ground. Blood spews, warming the fabric of her pants. They bounce, and her knee connects against the hard plain of its face a second time. The two skid against the concrete floor. Then she smashes her foot onto the thing's shoulder and flips off of it. 

 

It hadn’t closed its eyes the entire time. She’d barely hurt it. 

 

It still doesn’t like the pain.

 

The himpalo roars, rattling her eardrums. It grasps its face with one hand and rolls onto its front. It makes eye contact with Kim. Forest green eyes narrowed at beady brown. Then it uses its giant forearm to wipe the blood from its nose. It’s a remarkably human gesture that makes Kim feel a little sick. Especially now that red is smeared over its flat, broad cheek.

 

Hind legs tense. It launches itself forwards like a bullet. Kim throws herself to the side. With a person, she’d be fast enough. With an arm longer than she is tall, the himpalo slices its fist into Kim. She flies through space across the long room, forearms aching from a blocked impact. It hits harder than Shego.

 

Kim doesn’t have time to feel pain. She orients her feet behind her and lets them hit the wall. She bends her knees, then springs upwards. Her hands grasp one of the many pipes and cables attached to the ceiling. She pulls herself above them, disappearing into the shadows. 

 

The Himpalo, which had been galloping at her, skids to a stop. It huffs angrily, once, then heaves back up on two legs and scans the ceiling. It’s slow, methodical, and patient. So tall is the creature, its head almost touches the lowest cables. Kim’s blood runs cold. Fear has never stopped her before. 

 

She crawls along the spiderwebbing pipes and cables, keeping out of sight. During her brief flight, she’d seen a wrench laying on a workbench that she’d like to get her hands on. Kim makes it half way before the himpalo gives up its search. It grips the mass on the ceiling with both hands and pulls. 

 

Rivets pop out and clatter on the floor. Kim can feel the jerking motion as more and more of the tangle of wires and pipes rip free. Before she can fall with it, she slides through a hole and onto the ground. Kim knows it has seen her because the sound of tearing stops and the sound of heavy footsteps starts. She takes off running towards her target. 

 

Then the footsteps stop, and something in the back of Kim’s head screams for her life. 

 

Using her next step, she flips herself around. She only has a second before she hits the ground. A mass, more than thrice her size, is hurtling in the air towards her. She lengthens her arms, aims, and when the whites of the himpalo’s eyes are visible, she fires. Her grapple gun kicks back against her grip. 

 

Intense reflexes activate. The himpalo bats the head of her grapple hook out of the sky, and the head of her grapple buries itself into concrete. Then its hand shoots forward and snatches Kim out of the air. The himpalo forces its arm down. The back of her head and body smash into the ground.

 

White flashes behind her eyes, she stares at nothing. The air leaves her lungs in a loud cough. For a second, it’s impossible to tell the difference between up and down. For a second, she can’t think. 

 

Pressure, unimaginable pressure, is what forces her back into her head. When she blinks her eyes back into focus, the horrible, massive head of the himpalo is hovering in front of her. Its entire mass is hunched over her, and a giant hand is pinning her in place. The himpalo is smiling again, with flat white teeth and glossy red gums. The stench of its breath fills her nose. Kim tries to squirm, but it's so strong she can’t move. Only her arms are free.

 

She slams her fist against its hand uselessly. Actually, it makes the himpalo laugh, that gasping, shrieking laugh. Now that it has caught its prey, it slows down. Intelligent, sadistic brown eyes observe her vain struggle. Sometimes, it squeezes its fingers, drawing a yelp out of Kim as the pressure increases in bursts. 

 

Panic almost overcomes her. If it wanted to, it could pop her open like a watermelon. She takes as much of a deep breath as she can. Panic will kill her, and the himpalo doesn’t seem to want to end it like this. She stops struggling to watch it. 

 

That makes it tilt its head with curiosity. It stands back up, and Kim becomes weightless as it lifts her in the air. High above the ground, the himpalo brings Kim towards its face. Kim glares at it. It smiles, smiles, smiles. 

 

“Toy.”

 

A jaw drops open in wide surprise. Dread fills every single part of Kim.

 

“Y-you can speak?” she asks in a horrified whisper. It chuckles . It chuckles . “Can you understand me?” Nodding. The world sways up and down. The himpalo has started lumbering towards the exit at the far end of the warehouse. “What do you want?” 

 

“More.”

 

Anger explodes outwards. Outside of this warehouse is Ron. Kim curls one of her hands into a fist and brings it down on the flesh between the himpalo’s thumb and forefinger. It thuds uselessly. The himpalo seems amused, it lets out a huff. Kim bares her teeth and extends her middle finger.

 

Electric blue flashes. A laser shoots out from the tip of her glove, digging into warm flesh like butter. It arcs back with bolts of lightning. Kim swipes her fist up its arm, drawing an open wound of burning flesh. 

 

The himpalo screams, flinching its hand open and dropping her to the ground. Thank you, Angie. This upgrade had gotten her out of more than one sticky situation. 

 

Kim lands on two feet and takes off running. Her legs burn. She’s never moved them so fast before. She makes it to the workbench and grasps the wrench with a tight grip. Whirling around, Kim is ready for a fight that doesn’t come. The himpalo is still writhing around on the ground, snarling and sobbing.

 

Does it not like pain? Good. Kim makes her way closer. Cautiously, because it’s finally starting to recover. It watches her, anger simmering off of it like steam. Then it snaps its arm to the side towards DNAmy’s vats and hurls one at her. “Oh crud!” 

 

Kim leaps to the side. The vat crashes at the floor and crumples into a pile of glass. Kim jumps vertically over another vat, and pushes off of it to get more air so the third can sail underneath her. Every dodge brings her closer to the himpalo. Every step turns its simmering fury into fiery rage. Once the distance is enough, it throws itself at her, both giant hands in fists. Kim runs forward too, and some things happen very, very quickly.

 

The first one to attack is the himpalo. It stabs a fist forwards, aiming at Kim’s head. Kim jumps up, then slams both feet into its forearm hard enough to push it to the floor. She runs up the thick limb, and as the second fist screams towards her from the side, she throws herself in the opposite direction.

 

Rather than an impact, she catches the fist and moves with it. It’s like jumping onto a speeding train, but she’s done that plenty. Using an arm, she flips onto the topside of the himpalo’s fist. Throwing her hand in the air, she jumps forward and brings the wrench down onto its face, hard enough that her arm rattles. It keels backwards, a huge clomping mass falling to the floor. 

 

And it still isn’t enough. 

 

The himpalo roars, clutching its face with one hand. The other swipes. Kim feels it slam into her side, then her other side hits the floor. She rolls over herself again and again, then comes to a painful, whimpering stop. Hot pain radiates from one of her arms, bone deep. She can flex her hand, but it makes it worse.

 

Careful to keep her weight off of it, she staggers onto her feet. Her arm hangs by her side, her good hand clenches the wrench. The himpalo, still sitting, clutches its head and watches her. If she presses a button on her Kimmunicator, it will call Ron back to her. But that means letting her wrench go, and that thing is shuffling closer to her. And- for once - she doesn’t want Ron by her side to face this.

 

Kim swallows thickly. It stands back up. This entire fight has been the skin of her teeth. She needs to switch it up now, or she’s not coming out of this alive. 

 

“Okay, ugly,” Kim says, lowering her stance. A plan forms in her mind. She lifts her wrench up to eye level and waves it, taunting. “One more time.”

 

---

 

The gaming room has become the main hub for everyone during the day. It just makes sense. The billiards table, the rows of arcade games, and a fucking goddamn double-lane bowling alley.

 

One day, Bonnie is going to marry someone rich enough to afford all this.

 

If she actually likes them, she might not divorce them and take half their stuff.

 

Hunched over a retro machine, surrounded by boys and girls alike, is Brick’s large figure. Keon is to his right, whooping louder and louder as the light from the screen flashes brighter and brighter. Amelia, the hottest senior in school, is leaning against the machine, eyeing Brick up like a piece of meat. 

 

Bonnie narrows her eyes. In her grade, Bonnie is the best of the best. Even the juniors defer to her. Politics with the seniors is a different kind of game. They have way less to lose. Amelia isn’t someone she can just chew out and be done with.

 

Bonnie heads into the crowd, and they part easily for her. She trains her people well. The scent of Brick’s cedarwood aftershave is almost comforting at this point. She sidles up beside him, between Amelia and her (fake) boyfriend. It’s the principalities of the matter. 

 

“Hi Bonnie!” Brick says with a grin. He doesn’t look away from the screen. Neon Vortex: Glitched Out flashes bright rainbow colors. A sidescroller shooting game that Brick is absolutely mowing through. She lets out an impressed whistle. That game is hard as hell. 

 

“I know, right,” Brick laughs out. “Gimme a minute? I’m almost past my high score.” 

 

“Sure, Brickie.” Bonnie says sweetly. She makes sure to give Amelia a sweet smile as well. It’s returned just as fakely. Unfortunately, she’s gorgeous. Bonnie looks away so she doesn’t spend her time dissecting Amelia’s face and comes face to face with Donavan instead. 

 

“Ms. Rockwaller,” he says, polite for once. He’s better to talk to than Amelia, so she responds.

 

“Hey, Donavan,” Bonnie says. “Enjoying your first party?” Donavan huffs through his nose.

 

“Quite.”

 

“Ew. this is your first party?” Amelia’s voice says from behind Bonnie. “No wonder I’m not having as much fun as I usually do. I’ve been getting geek vibes this whole time.”

 

Donavan purses his lips. “Everyone has a first time, Ms. Whitmore,” he says lightly.

 

Bonnie resists the urge to palm her face. He’s just setting it up for her, isn’t he.

 

“Something tells me you haven’t actually had that yet,” Amelia snarks out, smirking. “And you won’t, for like, a while?” The crowd starts laughing. Brick frowns, but he’s not really sure what they’re talking about. Bonnie frowns also. She glances at Amelia over her shoulder. Amelia is eyeing the boy with clear judgment, and like, she gets it. Donavan is a total loser. But he’s also, apparently, Brick’s friend. 

 

“Cut him some slack,” Bonnie says. “Not everyone has the opportunity to fuck the entire basketball team.” The crowd lets out a long ‘oooooh’. Amelia’s jaw drops. Bonnie gives her a side-eye that would make a lesser man cry. “But, like, I should cut you some slack too. Sorry,” Bonnie looks at her perfect nails, “‘cause I heard Chett has chlamydia.” 

 

That actually makes Amelia gasp. In the distance, Chett’s voice cries out, “Does everyone know?!”

 

Oops , Bonnie had made that up on the spot. Amelia glares at her like she’s shit on the bottom of Amelia’s shoe. Bonnie meets it with cool, uncaring indifference and the vindication of having the crowd start snickering. 

 

Knowing she’s on a sinking ship, Amelia huffs, sticks her beautiful chin into the air, and stomps off. Bonnie’s smirk is smug and satisfied. It’s definitely going to come back and bite her in the ass, but that was better than sex. Then she notices Donavan gaping at her, and she rolls her eyes.

 

“Stop staring, Donavan. What are you, obsessed with me?” Donavan closes his mouth. Infuriatingly, it has a slight tilt of a smile. Bonnie debates chewing him out when Brick lets out a mournful groan.

 

“Aw man, I’m off by one point!” He throws his hands into the air. Keon gives him a pat on the back in solidarity. “One fuckin’ point!” 

 

“You can’t have it all,” Keon says, wiping at an imaginary tear. “Now move over! It’s my turn.” 

 

“Good luck, bro.” Brick moves aside and gives Bonnie a big ol’ grin. His loss is already forgotten. “What’s up, Bonnie?”

 

“Come on,” Bonnie says instead of answering. She grips his hand and starts walking. Brick lets her lead him out of the room and up two flights of stairs, right into the bedroom she’s sharing with Ange and Tara. They’re not here, and even if they were, Bonnie would kick them out. Once the door is shut and locked, she’s able to relax. Just a little.

 

“Brick?” Bonnie says, watching Brick walk over and take a seat on the bed. 

 

“Yeah?”

 

She’s nervous, but the best way to get over that is to plow right through it. So she does.

 

“How did your, uh, moms... know they were... uh, gay?”

 

“Oh,” Brick says. He looks to the ceiling as the one brain cell in his head fires up. “I don’t know,” is the conclusion he comes to. “They just kind of did.”

 

This doesn’t help her at all.

 

“That doesn’t help me at all,” Bonnie snaps out. Brick smiles nervously at her. “Like, I need to know now. Is there a test I can take? Can a fucking fairy fall out of the sky and wave a magic wand at me? There’s gotta be something I can do to find out! Right?”

 

Brick doesn’t seem to know what to say. He taps his giant hand against his chin. “Why do you wanna take a test on purpose? Those suck.”

 

This time Bonnie does palm her face. “Focus, please!” Bonnie opens her fingers to glare with one eye. It bounces right off Brick’s oblivious head and fizzles down to the next floor. “How do you know?!”

 

Then Brick looks at her with scrunched up eyebrows and asks something that’s surprisingly intuitive. “Did something, like, happen to you, Bonnie?”

 

For a moment, Bonnie considers lying. It would be the safe, comfortable decision. Those are usually the best ones. But - Her shoulders deflate. Bonnie walks over and flops onto the bed right beside Brick. 

 

She needs to figure this out before the pressure in her chest makes her cry.

 

“Tara kissed me.”

 

“Oh,” Brick says for a second time. Then he grins and it’s full of spicy sauce, the kind you’d put on fries. “That’s hot.”

 

Bonnie reaches over and smacks his arm. “That’s not the point, Brick! She kissed me . What am I supposed to do with that?”

 

“Did you like it?”

 

Bonnie looks away. She stares out the window at the beautiful lake. It’s glass smooth, reflecting the mountains off its mirror surface. She doesn’t want to answer, because saying it out loud makes it real. But - She squeezes her eyes shut.

 

It was more than one kiss, and each one had left her chasing her breath. She hadn’t been able to think after Tara was done with her. Then Tara had been so... so gentle after, which just wasn’t fair. Bonnie couldn’t even be mad at her (and she’d tried), not when she’d rested their foreheads together and smiled as bright as the fucking sun.

 

“Yes,” Bonnie whispers her confession. It feels like a sin flowing past her lips. It makes her curl up into a little ball, hugging her knees to her chest. “But, like… that doesn’t have to mean anything, does it?”

 

“I don’t know, Bonnie.” Brick reaches over and pats one of her knees. His hand is warm. “That’s something you have to figure out yourself.” 

 

---

 

“Hike! Hike! Hike!” Jessica chants, bouncing around the first floor. Hope, giggling, follows her. “Anyone who wants to go on a hike, meet out front!”

 

Besides her, Tara looks up with interest, just in time to see the girls flash by the open door. “Angie, do you wanna go on a hike?” Tara asks, putting down her book and turning to regard Ange. They’re in a little nook in one of the many rooms on the bottom floor of the mansion.

 

Ange just grunts, head resting on the back of this comfy rich person loveseat. Her eyes are closed, trying to catch up on the sleep she should have gotten this morning. The sacrifices she made for her girls should earn her a medal. 

 

“Mm… do you?” Ange feels Tara lean an arm on her shoulder. From the shift of body weight, the blond is closer now too. The tips of Ange’s ears start heating up. Being flirted with is something she still hasn’t figured out how to deal with.

 

“Yeah,” Tara says. “There’s supposed to be a beautiful view at the top.” She pokes a finger into Ange’s blushing cheek. Finally, Ange opens her eyes and looks at Tara. Amused, knowing, and mischievous. What an absolute minx. 

 

“Do you want me to join you?” Ange asks.

 

“If I asked, would you?” Tara replies with a question of her own. Ange nods, knowing that Tara is testing how far Ange will go for her. “That’s so sweet. You should get some rest, though,” her voice drops an octave. “Later tonight, let's have some fun.”

 

When Ange’s face bursts into flames, Tara starts laughing. “You’re so easy!” 

 

Well, maybe she is, but it’s still rude to point it out! Ange narrows her eyes, then grips the hand of the arm on her shoulder. She presses her lips to the back of it, enjoying the smoothness of Tara’s skin. Tara goes stiff. Ange pulls away, smirking now that she isn’t the only one blushing. “Have fun, Tara.” 

 

“Okay,” Tara squeaks. 

Chapter 77: Chapter 76

The himpalo reaches an arm up into the ceiling and rips out a pipe. Kim feels a little queasy at the sight, but she forces herself to take a calming breath. As long as she can do what needs to be done, she can turn the tide. 

 

Kim starts at a slow jog towards it. Her arm aches as it’s jostled, but that's easy to ignore. At this point, she kind of likes pain. One has to in this line of business.

 

The himpalo taps the pipe on the floor, smirking and nodding in approval. The resonant clangs line up with each of Kim’s footsteps - like it’s having fun. 

 

Kim jumps, the himpalo swings its arm back, just as she swings hers forward. The wrench fires right at its face, making the himpalo stagger back. Kim’s wrench bounces off its skull and into the air with a crunch. 

 

Her gambit pays off. The himpalo’s accuracy falters. The pipe comes hurtling towards her. Kim contorts her body to grab it with her free hand. She plants her feet on it, and, mid swing, pushes off into the air to catch her wrench. Being mid air in a fight is always a risky move. There’s no leverage to be gained. Against a skilled martial artist, it could turn into a fatal mistake.

 

Fortunately, this thing doesn’t fight, it brawls. 

 

It tries to grab her with its other hand. When it’s near enough, Kim uses all her body strength to hurl her hand down on it. The wrench meets a large finger, and thankfully, she feels the bone underneath give way. The himpalo roars in blinding pain.

 

Despite her good nature, Kim smirks. Broken bone for broken bone. Payback is a real bi- uh, pain. 

 

With long arms, shorter legs, and a jutting torso, its center of gravity is in the middle of its chest. That’s a long way from the ground. As Kim falls, the himpalo pulls its injured arm back. Quickly, Kim tucks her wrench into her armpit and digs her fingers into the fur of the retreating arm. The momentum brings her right towards its shoulders. She braces her hand, rotates her entire body, and jams her foot into where she guesses its sternum would be.

 

Like a tall tree in a raging storm, it falls. The himpalo crashes down. The pipe in its other hand rolls free, clanging on the ground. Kim lands a distance away, panting hard. 

 

And it’s still not enough.

 

The himpalo pulls itself back onto its feet, clutching its broken hand to its chest. The glare it gives Kim is murderous. If she were someone else, she would have started sobbing at the hopelessness of her situation. But she told Ron she had this. Kim bares her teeth at it. She totally has this. 

 

Enraged, the himpalo launches towards her.

 

Thump, thump, thump.

 

Rapid fire foot falls heading at her. Death in the form of a twelve foot tall, seven hundred and fifty pound, human, chimpanzee, water buffalo mix, baring down on her at - if she had to guess - forty miles an hour. Kim narrows her eyes, waiting patiently. Curiously, it doesn’t attempt to grab her the moment she’s within reach.

 

It’s learning.

 

That is so ferociously creepy. 

 

Kim bends her knees. The mass of its body is only a few feet away. It jumps towards her like a lightning strike, arms spread wide, knees aligned with her hips, blocking off her escape routes. White, flat, drooling teeth flash as it smiles. 

 

It doesn’t expect her to jump at it, right into its stomach. Its eyes widen, she grabs onto matted fur. Before it can crush her in a bear hug, she’s moving. Quick, almost spider-like, she’s scrambling around its torso onto its back. 

 

The thing comes to a skidding stop, arms flailing to snap around itself, grabbing at the spot Kim was just in. Scaling the beast with one working arm is hard. She’s been through harder - probably. Kim grabs onto its fur and swings her hips upwards, just barely missing a giant, crushing hand. 

 

Definitely a maybe.

 

The himpalo roars in frustration. She feels it reverse course, sprinting backwards towards a vat to crush her on. Too late. 

 

Kim finds it in herself to smile darkly. She reaches its head, clicks her heels, and the roller skate wheels on her shoes descend. 

 

That’s not what she’s after.

 

Gripping the top of its head, Kim swings both of her legs around the himpalo’s face. The rocket jets at the back of her shoes fire on, and Kim hears the most horrifying, pained scream in her life. It’s shrill, loud, broken. Burning flesh bubbles and sizzles along its cheeks. 

 

The himpalo raises its arms, but Kim’s already done what she needed to. She presses her feet into its face and flips forward, missing another deadly grasp by inches. 

 

Kim lands in a three point crouch, rolls, and re-orients herself to face the himpalo. It’s writhing on its hind legs, gripping its head tight as if that will alleviate the pain. She gives herself just enough time to confirm she’s blinded it - she has. Kim can see the boiling juices from its damaged eyes streaming down its face. She spares it a wince - before she’s moving again. Deliberately, she makes noise, and the himpalo stills at her footsteps. Though blinded, it still tracks her with its face as she makes her way across the room.

 

Ferociously creepy. Augh.

 

Then, it turns around and starts sprinting away from her. “Oh!” Kim can’t help but say. She hadn’t expected it to run. Even better. 

 

Her grapple lays forgotten on the floor, still embedded into the concrete. She drops her wrench and jerks the grapple free. The clang of her tool makes the himpalo flinch. “You’re a coward,” Kim says to herself. A coward that doesn’t like pain.

 

It’s in the wrong line of business. She aims her grapple into the air, waits, waits, waits - now!

 

The trigger clicks. As the head flies towards the ceiling, Kim wraps it around one of the heavy steel tables mounted into the base. The claw catches, then pulls hard. Instead of bringing the gun up, the gun holds firm and brings the mess of cables and wires on the ceiling down, right onto the himpalo.

 

Blinded, afraid, flailing, it tangles in its own mess. The more it struggles, the tighter the cables constrict. It screams in frustration, realizing it’s completely immobilized. Kim laughs, panting hard, and slowly walks towards the thing. 

 

“You...” Kim says, clutching her arm. The himpalo jerks its head towards her voice, baring its teeth, “are one scary creature.” She’s close enough to see the wrinkles on its face, hear the snap of its teeth. She stops just in front of it, really looking. Its eyes are gone, blood is smeared on its cheeks. Bruises from their battle are forming on thick, pale skin.

 

“I’m scarier.”

 

And she must be, because it flinches. Kim frowns. 

 

“I’m sorry DNAmy made you like this,” Kim says. It lets out a rumbling growl as it breathes out. Maybe if it wasn’t so sadistic, Kim could have let it run free. 

 

The sounds of sirens finally pierce through the warehouse. The himpalo tenses, as if knowing its freedom is coming to an end. But it doesn’t struggle, which is a little foreboding. Instead, it rests its massive head onto the ground and huffs. Kim makes a mental note to tell the authorities that this thing is playing weak.

 

She sits down facing it, and she doesn’t look away. She doesn’t look away when Ron comes rushing in, followed by police. She doesn’t look away when the EMTs walk over and insist on checking up on her. She doesn’t look away for one moment. Something in her chest is coiled as tight as a garage spring. It’s not until someone has slid a thick needle under the leather thick skin of the himpalo and tied a giant bag of sedatives to it that she feels the tension drain out of her. 

 

Like sand through a fist, concentration and energy filter away. She leans her body to the side, resting her head on Ron’s shoulder. The boy had insisted on staying beside her. He knows her too well. Kim closes her forest green eyes, finally safe enough to just…

 

Sleep.

 

---

 

The trail is absolutely gorgeous.  

 

As the morning marches along, the mist is starting to burn off, letting the sunlight filter through the trees. Moss clings to their trunks. Every once and a while, the low side of the trail will drop off in a dramatic cliff, and they’ll get a hint of the view. Large, shard like mountains that are just starting to capture snow. The lake they’re staying beside is far in the distance, no bigger than a dollar bill. It was definitely worth it to go on this hike. Perhaps the only downside is that it is entirely uphill.

 

Donavan is not the athletic type.

 

He trudges along near the back of the pack, trying to keep his breathing controlled and his head up. In front of him, a few of the cheer squad, several of the jocks, and even a member of the student council chatter and laugh. A few weeks ago, watching them interact would have made him feel lonely. A few weeks ago, he never would have made it on this trip. A few weeks ago, one of the members of the cheer squad, and a member of the lacrosse team wouldn’t flank his sides, meandering along at his pace. 

 

Riley is tall and handsome, walking lazily at his left. Tara, less tall, more beautiful, happily bounces along at his right. 

 

“Ooh, a mountain bluebird,” Tara says, staring up at the tree canopy. Riley follows her gaze and is rewarded with a bright blue, small bird fluttering through the trees. “This one is leaving late.” 

 

“Are you a birder?” Riley says from Donavan’s other side. When Tara nods, Riley twists his lips in amusement. “Geez, Tara. I didn’t think you had grandma hobbies.”

 

Tara sticks out an adorable tongue. “Birding is great. I get to be outside, and I get to look at pretty things.”

 

That actually makes Riley pause. “When you put it like that, it doesn’t sound so bad.” 

 

Tara hops once with happiness. “That’s because my hobbies are fucking baller.” Donavan’s lip twitches. It’s weird hearing someone cuss and not get scolded by Angelus. It’s a shame she couldn’t join them. Tara had said she was taking a nap. 

 

Riley holds his hands up in surrender. “Okay, okay, they ball. Still not as cool as lacrosse.” 

 

“Shows what you know,” Tara says. Her grin is good natured. “Cheerleading is just as cool.” 

 

“Nuh uh,” Riley huffs, also good naturedly. “That’s, like, girly shit. Not worth it.”

 

“I get to spend time with pretty girls in short skirts. How is that not worth it?”

 

Riley opens his mouth. Then he closes his mouth. Even Donavan gives him a look, which he huffs at. Tara, one. Riley, zero. 

 

“What do you do for fun?” Riley asks Donavan, desperately trying to move the conversation along. Donavan raises an eyebrow.

 

“Besides matheletes and studying, I presume?” Riley blinks at him, unsure how to react. Donavan’s used to that kind of reaction. “I read poetry.”

 

Tara coos, touching his shoulder. It makes him go bright red. Until now, the only girl that has touched Donavan has been Angelus. “Donavan, that’s so sweet!” 

 

“It is?” Riley and Donavan say at the exact same time.

 

Tara rolls her eyes at the boys. “Duh, poetry is, like, emotional. Boys who are in touch with their emotions are super hot.”

 

“They are?” Riley says. He eyes Donavan, as if wondering if he should ask Donavan for some recommendations.

 

“They are?” Donavan squeaks. Tara starts giggling.  

 

The trio spend the entire hike up the mountain like this. It’s not a steep hike, but it is long enough to take two hours to reach the end. Donavan wishes Brick had joined them, but after Bonnie had stolen him away, Donavan hadn’t been able to find him anywhere. Girlfriends come first, probably. He wouldn’t actually know. 

 

When the entire group makes it near the top, Tara lets out a whoop and takes off sprinting. Some of the other teenagers see her run by and start chasing after her, laughing. How could someone be so fit? Donavan is wheezing, legs shaking. He hasn’t gotten this much exercise in a while. Riley is kind enough to walk him up the rest of the way. 

 

The view is godly. Light spears down through heavenly clouds, dappling along distant mountains and forest. The meadow they just walked through is full of fall blooming flowers. A gentle breeze carries its wonderful scent along the air. Deer wander in a large herd along the bottom of their meadow, grazing. 

 

Riley presses something against his chest. A peanut butter and jelly sandwich. The perfect meal for what’s turning out to be a perfect day. He peels away the plastic wrap and munches on it happily, watching mother nature offer up its beauty. Curiously, all at the exact same time, the herd of deer lift their heads and stare into the forest. Donavan can see their ears perk up straight. Tara, who had migrated over to a group with Hope, Jessica, and Carson, notices it too. 

 

“I wonder if there’s a mountain lion,” Tara says after swallowing a small bite of her PB&J. She pecks at her food, much like a bluebird. The others follow her gaze just in time to see the herd break into a sprint. 

 

“Eugh, I hope not,” Hope says, clinging to Jessica’s side. “Those things, like, eat people, don’t they?”

 

“They’ll avoid us if we stay in a group,” Tara says. It makes the others relax. “Just don’t wander off.” 

 

“I could take a mountain lion,” Carson says, puffing out his chest. The three girls roll their eyes, but Riley, besides Donavan nods his head. 

 

“Yeah, bro, me too! Easy money.” Carson and Riley lean over and bump their fists together. “Now, a brown bear might be a little different.”

 

“We don’t need to worry about that,” Tara says, dry as a desert. “Brown bears don’t live in Colorado.” 

 

“I could take a brown bear,” Carson boasts again. “I box. It’d swipe at me, I’d slip it, and hit it with an upper cut. Boom!” He throws his hands into the air. “On the ground.” Some of the other kids start laughing. 

 

“Right,” Hope says, sharing glances with Tara and Jessica. 

 

“I believe you, Carson,” someone says from their group. Carson’s grin is nice and smug. He shoves the rest of his sandwich into his mouth and stands back up. 

 

“Let's head back.” He’s a big boy, and his voice booms, easily capturing everyone’s attention. “I wanna set up a Fantastic Fragment Sisters’ tournament.” The game had released in August, and it was hot. Riley hops to his feet. 

 

“You’re so on, dude. I’m the best at fighting games.” Carson doesn’t seem to believe him, but the rest of the group seems excited by the prospect. As one, they start heading back down the trail. Donavan is thankful it is down the trail. If he has to take another upward step, he might as well just perish.

 

Now that he isn’t struggling against gravity (as much, walking downhill is still fighting gravity, and it’s important to be accurate, but the spirit of the phrase is also important too), Donavan is able to move faster. And the faster he moves, the quicker they get back to Riley’s lifted white truck (The interior can only hold six, but the bed of it easily holds the others). The faster he got to that truck, the faster he could rest. So, for the sake of his burning legs, he leads the pack. That means he’s the first to see it. 

 

A giant boulder obscures the first bend in the trail. He walks around it without a second thought and screeches to a halt. Actually, he backs up a few paces, fast enough that his nerd little body bumps into Carson’s giant jock body.

 

“Bro, watch it-” He’s the second to see it. He falls silent immediately. The other teens behind him make questioning noises. One by one, they all see it, then they don’t say anything at all.

 

In the middle of the trail, steaming in the cool fall air of Colorado, is the corpse of a headless, skinned deer. Blood is pooling beneath it. No one is sure what to say, so they don’t say anything. Tara walks up to the front, nervous as she is. She looks at the corpse, looks to the left, to the right, to the front, to the back. Donavan catches a glimpse of her face, and it’s so pale it’s almost grey.

 

“I can’t see where it came from,” Tara says softly. Donavan looks around too. There are no errant drops of blood, no disturbed shrubbery. Just a steaming, headless, skinned deer corpse marinating in a pool of its own blood. 

 

For another moment, no one is sure what to say. Then, Riley steps forward. “Carson,” he says, eyeing the corpse, then looking at all the people around them. “Do you want to take the front or the back?”

 

Carson blinks in confusion. “What do you mean, man?”

 

“We’re the biggest ones here.” Riley gestures at everyone else. There are a few other jocks, but what Riley said is true. Carson easily towers over everyone. Riley is the second tallest. Both are packed with muscle. “Whoever is telling us to fuck off will have a harder time against us.”

 

Carson doesn’t seem to want to agree. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t want to look like a pussy in front of everyone, or maybe it’s because the anxious faces of his peers move him, but he finally nods. “I’ll take point,” he says, voice grave.

 

Everyone lines up single file. Carson in the front, followed by a few other jocks. The girls take the middle. The girls and the Donavan, who is clearly not strong enough to fight back against someone capable of beheading and skinning a deer. He’s behind Tara, who is looking around the forest nervously. Behind him are a few other jocks, then Riley, who has maybe the worst spot in the entire row. There’s no one to watch his back.

 

Carson circles around the corpse, twitchy, as if he’s afraid that whoever did that is about to jump out at him. It’s a valid fear, but thankfully, unneeded. Nothing happens. He starts walking. One by one, the others reluctantly circumvent the deer, then follow Carson down the trail. For a few, long, infinite minutes, no one speaks a god damn word. 

 

Fear is an uncomfortable feeling. Eventually, someone dares to break the quiet.

 

“We should have eaten it,” they say. It’s not that funny, but everyone laughs anyway. One of the jocks manages to grin.

 

“Coulda made a burger out of it,” the jock says. “Throw in some fries and a milkshake.”

 

“Please and thank you,” Hope says with false cheer. Then everyone falls silent and wishes Kim Possible was here. No one messes with Kim Possible. 

 

Then, Carson swears. “Fuck!” He stops short, hands clenched into fists. Donavan peers around the others to see what Carson does, and he almost whimpers. 

 

A headless, skinned deer lays in the middle of the trail, several yards away. It doesn’t move, there is no disturbed shrubbery, and this time, there is no pool of blood. Tara hugs herself.

 

“Is that the same one?” she whispers, but everyone can hear her anyway. No one has an answer, or even, maybe, wants an answer. They’re not sure which is worse. The corpse being a different deer that suffered the same grisly fate. Or the same one, transported over several football fields of distance to be placed in front of them.

 

“We have to keep going,” Riley says from the back. He tries to keep his voice steady, and it almost is. When Donavan glances at him, he can see his hands shaking. “We need to get to the truck.”

 

With a goal in mind, the group starts up again. Donavan picks up a stick, and when he reaches the corpse he jams it into a spot between the deer’s ribs. Tara glances at him, and so does everyone from the back.

 

“If it happens again,” Donavan says, fearing it will indeed happen again. “We’ll know if it’s the same one.” 

 

The group continues. Holy sunlight filters through the clouds. Occasionally, the trail will drop off on the bottom side into a dramatic cliff, giving them a glimpse of a gorgeous view. No one bothers to look at it. They make it two thirds of the way to the trailhead.

 

“Fucking damnit.” Carson says, looking around at trees and underbrush. “Fucking shit, fuck.” In front of him is a skinned, headless deer corpse, arranged in a little heap in the middle of the trail. “Who’s out there?!” he yells at the forest. “What do you want?!”

 

Everyone holds their breath and waits for an answer that doesn’t come. There’s just the sound of the forest. Wind brushing along the trees. The call of a bluebird that’s a little late on its migration path. 

 

Donavan steps out of the line to approach the corpse. It’s cold, bloodless, fleshy. As if intentional, the gaping hole he’d left between its ribs is exposed to the air. It almost makes him  vomit. It shouldn’t be possible. It shouldn’t be possible to do that. No person should be able to carry the corpse of a deer faster than they can travel. Is there more than one person? Why haven’t they shown themselves? He stops thinking about that question in particular. The answer is probably worse than whatever he can come up with.

 

Hustling, the group starts again towards the trailhead. It’s not a run, or a jog, but a very fast walk. Donavan doesn’t even register the burning in his legs anymore. Fear, like a rabbit being stalked by a hawk, makes him strong. Finally, they make it to the head of the trail without any more encounters. It’s like the entire group sighs at once. Relief makes him lightheaded. 

 

“Maybe they just wanted us out of here?” Riley says, the last one off the trail. Not far is his lifted, white truck. Maybe it’s a trick of the light, but it almost seems like the sun is shining bright on it. It gleams a promise of beautiful safety. 

 

“If they did, then lets fuck off,” Carson snaps. He hurries towards the truck, followed by the group. “I’m never coming here again, man. That was fucked up. That was like, serial killer shit!” 

 

“You don’t need to say it twice.” Riley pulls his keys out of his pocket and clicks the unlock. The lights of his pickup flash. Since he’s a guy, Carson holds the rim of the truck bed and climbs up on the tire to get in. His massive body goes stiff half way through, then he lets go and jumps away. His face is ashen as he stumbles backwards. Donavan shuts his eyes tight, already knowing what’s happened. 

 

Still, it doesn’t stop him from walking over to the truck. It’s lifted high, really high. Riley likes the view of the road it gives him. That means he has to struggle a bit to climb onto the tire, then struggle some more to peer over the rim of the bed. His fears are confirmed. Donavan stares, horror keeping him mute. 

 

A deer corpse, skinned, headless, cold, lays in the middle of the bed. Its haunches are pulled up against its body, its front legs are folded over itself. It looks like it could have been sleeping, if it wasn’t a corpse. It looks like it could have been there all along. Except…

 

Donavan can see the gauge he’d left in it, a deep hole, right between its ribs.

 

Chapter 78: Chapter 77

The room smells like cedarwood.

 

Ange stops in her tracks the moment she opens the door. She can’t hear anyone breathing, or footsteps, or the other sounds of life that humans don’t realize they make, even at rest. So, Brick isn’t here anymore. But he had been here. 

 

The door clicks shut behind her. She takes a moment to rest against it, trying to control the roiling inside of her stomach. How many reminders does she need before it stops hurting? Pathetic. At least the sting isn’t as harsh this time. So, she’s making progress. Less pathetic. 

 

She pushes off the door and heads towards her bag on the dresser. She fishes her Kimmunicator out, clicking it on, and frowns. No new messages. That should be good news, right? Wade doesn’t contact her often. Not hearing anything from Kim is a little abnormal, though. Ange hopes she’s alright. She sets her Kimmunicator back down with a shake of her head. It’s probably nothing. 

 

Something catches against the light inside her bag. She reaches in and grabs the hilt of her saber. 

 

Not hearing from Kim is probably nothing, but... It never hurts to be prepared. Ange fiddles around until she finds her charging cable. She plugs the cable into the wall, then into the charging port of her weapon. Might as well top it off while she’s here. 

 

Ange turns to leave and pauses for a moment. Bonnie insisted the bed be made every day, she liked her living area neat. But the bed isn’t like how they left it this morning. She can see the divot in the covers where someone would have sat, too big to be any of her - …any of the girls. Ange takes a deep breath, regrets it when cedar fills her nose, then exhales. She leaves the bedroom, shutting the door behind her. A storm cloud hangs over her head. She stares straight ahead, feeling cold all the way down to her fingertips.

 

Pathetic. 

 

---

 

Besides her, Brick frowns down at his paper. Bonnie puts hers down and leans over to see what he’s looking at. An American history essay full of bad grammar and run on sentences stares back at her. But, ignoring that, it’s not exactly bad. At least, Bonnie can see the general structure of it.

 

“Give me a sec and I’ll edit it,” Bonnie murmurs to him. He gives her a goofy, warm smile that Bonnie is quickly growing to enjoy. Now that she doesn’t need to kiss him, he’s become much more tolerable. Honestly, that lent credence to his theory that she was gay, not that she was about to dissect that in a room full of her peers.

 

In the cheer squad, Bonnie is easily the best wordsmith, no matter how much Kim might argue the point. Bonnie would do anything for her girls, which is why she’d suggested this impromptu homework session in the first place.

 

On her other side, Liz pokes her shoulder. “How does this look?” she asks. Another essay, this time for English Lit.  More than once, she’d been asked to look over some of her girls’ work. She picks up Liz’s paper and starts looking it over. Solid writing, better grammar, good structure. Only a few marks are needed before she hands it back. As fun as this weekend long party is, Bonnie wasn’t about to go to school without her homework done. She has a four point oh and she’s not about to let that go. 

 

Besides everyone in the cheer squad (sans Hope, Jessica, and Tara, who she was definitely going to make sit down and finish up their work before they went back to partying) more than a few other students had joined her. Not everyone, she could hear a bunch of people laughing a few doors down in the game room. But enough were here in the living room, studying under the daylight to make it almost cozy. 

 

Amelia is here too, draped gracefully on the other end of the couch. Unfortunately, that means she’s smart. Picking a fight with a smart, hot person at the top of the food chain - especially a senior - maybe wasn’t Bonnie’s best move. Turquoise eyes glance at her before going back to her own work. She didn’t regret it for a second. 

 

She’s just about to pick up Brick’s essay when the sound of Riley’s giant lifted pickup racing into the gravel driveway catches her attention. Bonnie chances a glance through the window in time to see the boys hop out the back and the girls fling open their doors. She stands up, already sensing something is wrong. No one disrespects Riley’s truck. 

 

It’s only confirmed when she sees them run towards the front door. Carson gets there first, and busts it open. His face is grey pale, his eyes are wide. 

 

“Jesus fucking Christ,” is the first thing he says, catching everyone's attention. Everyone in the truck trips over each other to pile into the room. Carson is already heading upstairs. Each footfall clomps loudly, even over the chatter from the teens that just entered. “We’re leaving. Anyone who wants to ride with me, pack up!” he calls, voice more muffled the farther he gets up the steps. Worryingly, a lot of people from the group follow him.

 

“What is going on?” Bonnie says, piercing through the panic. “Lets use our words, people.”

 

Riley, the last one in, stares out the door one last time before shutting it and locking it. “Some creepy shit is what’s going on,” he says. The emotion on his face is as grave as the dead. 

 

Tara, lovely, cheerful Tara, breaks from the crowd with a bowed head and sagging shoulders. Silent, she walks into Bonnie’s arms. Automatically, they wrap around her. Bonnie can feel her shaking. Protective, dangerous emotion cinders in Bonnie’s breast. She squeezes Tara tight. 

 

“Elaborate,” Bonnie orders.

 

“There was someone on the trail with us,” Riley says, and it’s probably one of the creepier things Bonnie’s heard. Some of the other people shift uncomfortably. “They - fuck, they skinned a deer and left it as a present.”

 

“They beheaded it,” Donavan says, completely shaken. That’s even more worrying. He’s the most stoic person Bonnie’s ever known. 

 

“Ew,” Amelia says from the couch. She has one leg crossed over the other, leaning against the armrest with an elegance Bonnie memorizes for later emulation. “That is creepy. But, like, so what?” She shrugs. “It was probably some weirdo hunter that didn’t like you all around.” Some tension in the study group recedes at Amelia’s logic. No one from Riley’s truck relaxes. Neither does Bonnie. Hope and Jessica have gone over to hug Liz. Someone messed with her girls. 

 

“It must have been more than one person,” Donavan says, adjusting his glasses. Now that he’s with more people, he’s starting to calm down. Riley nods after a moment. “How else could it show up in front of us more than once.”

 

“They kept presenting it to us,” he says. “The same one, over and over.” Riley looks down at his clothes. There’s a bit of blood smeared on his longsleeve. “They left it in my truck, man.” Ew. “Maybe it’s fine, but I’m fucking out of here.”

 

From her arms, tucked against her neck, Tara shifts her head enough to give Bonnie big, afraid eyes. “Can we go home?” She says so quietly it might as well have been a whisper.

 

That’s enough for her. Bonnie looks at the room, then at the other cheerleaders who had been studying. “Go gather everyone. We need to tell them about this. And, captain's decision, the cheer squad is out of here. You can bitch about it to me later.” The orders must give her girls a bit of comfort, because they get up and leave the room without any complaints. Liz is holding both Jessica and Hope’s hands tight.

 

“You can’t be serious,” Amelia scoffs. Bonnie levels a stare at her, one that Amelia meets head on with a cocked eyebrow. Opposition for the sake of opposition. Bitch. “That trail is miles away. Like, I get that it’s some spooky shit, but you can’t really suggest we end the party for this.”

 

“No one says you have to go,” Tara says quietly against Bonnie’s side. She tugs at Bonnie’s shirt weakly. “But we are, right?”

 

Bonnie squeezes her again. “Duh. I’m not going to be a statistic.” Bonnie gives the entire room a level stare. “If you all wanna toy around with this freaky shit, go for it.” Amelia rolls her pretty eyes. Bonnie clicks her tongue. She can be passive aggressive too. “But we’re still bringing everyone into the loop. So, like, once everyone is here, we’ll figure out who’s staying and who isn’t.”

 

“Fine by me,” Amelia says, raising her chin with haughty arrogance. “But, I’m not a wet blanket. So I’ll be staying with everyone that’s cool.”

 

“Whatever, Amelia,” Bonnie snarks back. “Bring down the room temperature without me, kay?”

 

Amelia narrows her eyes, and Bonnie smirks. If Tara wasn’t clinging to her so timidly, she’d push it further. Amelia is clearly considering it, but the first of their peers start filtering into the living room. 

 

Bonnie walks back to her end of the couch and sits before someone can take her seat. Tara molds onto her side, so Bonnie presses her lips onto the top of Tara’s head. Citrus sweet perfume, dried sweat. Maybe Bonnie can sort of understand why Ange is like that. Maybe.

 

“What’s goin’ on, guys?” Max says, unhappy that the mood of his shindig is changing. 

 

“Hold on, man,” Brick says. Since he’s the next quarterback, Max is willing to give him some patience. Slowly, the room is filled up. Some people are confused, others are still laughing, everyone that had been on that trail is stone silent. Carson already has his bag hiked over his shoulder, and the keys to his car clenched in his fist. When Ange enters, not that Bonnie is paying attention, she scans the entire room and frowns. Her eyes linger on Riley, then Donavan, then they catch sight of Bonnie and Tara and she stands up very straight.

 

“That’s everyone in the house,” Liz says, the last to enter the room. Bonnie makes a note to treat her to Sundollars later. 

 

“Good,” Bonnie says lightly. A part of her is pleased she’s able to get everyone into this room with her words. It’s a reflection of how much they listen to her. “Then lets begin-”

 

“That’s not everyone,” Ange says, cutting her off. Bonnie, and a few other people turn to look at her. “Including me, there are thirty two people here.” Ange scans the room one more time, paying too much attention. “We’re missing Madison, Clover, and Peter.” 

 

“Oh,” Bonnie says, thinking. Tara, also their friend, looks up. “I think they went for a walk by the lake.”

 

Ange nods, zipping up her jacket. “Say what you need to say. We can fill them in after I go get them.” Ange opens the front door, just in time for a crash to echo through the forest. People in the room go tense, Ange’s jaw drops open as she stares out the entrance.

 

“What the fuck was that?” someone says.

 

Ange, still watching outside, speaks, and it’s not to reprimand them. “Does your cousin have a chainsaw on the premises, Max?” 

 

“What?” Max looks startled. He shrugs. “I mean, I think so? Why, though?”

 

Ange looks at the group. What she says makes every person that went on the hike go grey.

 

“A tree just fell onto the road.”

 

Far in the distance, where the gravel driveway nears the paved main road, a tree as thick as two rulers are long, lays across the ground. It stretches from one end to the other, blocking the only path in and out.

 

“We’re going to have to cut our way out.” 

 

---

 

Far across the lake, wind makes its surface shimmer. Sun shines on the houses that line that side, bright specks that can barely be made out. On this side, the air is still and the mountain is just starting to cast its shadow. Their shoes crunch along the pebbles at the shore, pace lazy and meandering. Occasionally, one of them will reach down and pick one up, prompting them all to stop and watch them attempt to skip a rock along the water. Usually, it splashes once and sinks down below the water. 

 

“That was a good one,” Madison says with a laugh. Clover puffs up, fists on her hips. She’d just skipped a rock twice. 

 

“I’m the rock queen,” Clover says. “Bow at my feet, bitches.” 

 

“All hail,” Madison says. Peter, Madison’s boyfriend, knows better than to bow at another woman’s feet. It’s one of the many reasons Madison loves him so. “What’s your first order, rock queen.”

 

“Ohh,” Clover taps her chin. Being rock queen really had its perks. “Find me something cool! I’ll reward the best offering with my next joint.” 

 

“Rock queen is generous and benevolent.” Madison grins at the promise of drugs. Peter has already scampered off to scour the pebble beach for something cool. Clover falls in line with Madison, happy to stroll while Madison does her bidding. The world falls into nature quiet. Wind rustles the trees, some birdcalls cry in the distance. The almost silence is loud and beautiful. 

 

“Hey, Madison,” Clover says after a comfortable moment. She’s looking up at the lush mountain peak with a smile. “Do you think we’ll still be friends after high school?” Besides her, Madison pauses. 

 

“You good, girl?” 

 

“The scenery made me introspective,” Clover says and shrugs. “Sue me.” Madison snorts out amusement. 

 

“Duh, we’ll be friends.” She leans down and picks something up. She presents it to Clover. In her palm is a fragment of a jaw bone, sunbleach white. A deer, probably. It’s long and weathered, with knuckle thick teeth still attached. “Even if we move across the country, we can call each other.” Clover takes the bone with a morbid grin. “I’ll kick your ass if you don’t answer, though.”

 

“That’s no way to talk to your queen,” Clover scolds, holding up the mandible. It’s a perfect Halloween decoration. “What are you even going to study?”

 

“Forensic science,” Madison says without hesitation. “Like my mom.” 

 

“Cool.” The jaw goes into Clover’s pocket. Madison goes back to scanning the ground. “When I get into college, I want to study archeology and anthropology. I wanna be like, uh, what’s her name.. Lana Broft?” 

 

“Treasure hunting?” Madison looks up with a grin. “That’s wicked. Maybe you should ask Kim for some tips?” 

 

“Oh, that’s a good idea. She’s been to, like, every temple ever.” 

 

“Ladies, come on over please,” Peter calls out from a distance. He’s a speck on the horizon. “I think I just won.” The girls look at each other. Madison scoffs skeptically. There’s no way he’s beating her jaw bone find.

 

Or maybe he is. When the girls finally make their way across the expanse of rocks, they see what he’s staring at. 

 

“Jesus,” Clover says, a mix of glee and horror. “I.. guess you did win.” Peter smirks, shoving his hands into his pockets. The knife he keeps on his belt clinks a little. Apparently, he wears it whenever he ventures into nature. It’s probably another reason Madison loves him so.

 

“Ew,” Madison says. She stares at it, then starts to slowly circle the little boulder it’s on top of. “Wow, it’s really fresh.” 

 

“How can you tell?” Peter asks, following her path to try and see what she does. 

 

“Well.” Madison stops to let him catch up. “There’s a path leading from the forest.” She points at the ground. The other two peer over to see what she sees. Indeed, there is a path leading right into the expanse of endless trees. The forest is dark, impenetrable to their gaze. “And it’s still wet.”

 

Everyone goes quiet as the implications of that sink in. Madison frowns, eyeing Peter’s find. Peter places a hand on the hilt of his knife, a move so casual he must have done it a thousand times. Clover stares into the forest, shifting from foot to foot.

 

“...Let's head back to the house,” Clover says. “Queen’s orders.” The other two grunt in approval. The three of them turn around to walk back from where they came, no longer meandering. Clover keeps watching the tree line, so Madison reaches over to hold her hand. She gives Madison a quick smile, then goes back to watching. It calms Clover’s nerves a little bit, but only a little bit. 

 

At their steady pace, the boulder, and the severed head of the skinned deer laying on top of it, fade into the horizon behind them.

 

Chapter 79: Chapter 78

From the lake to the giant mansion, is a manicured gravel path carved out of the forest. It’s enough for three people to stand shoulder to shoulder, with a slight incline as it winds around the property. That’s what the trio do. Peter takes one side, Madison takes the other. Instinctually, they’d let Clover, the smallest of them, take the middle. 

 

“That was so weird,” Clover finally says. The silent walking had just made her more nervous. 

 

Madison nods besides her. “You love your horror movies, right?” Clover smiles, and it’s real. Madison does too, somewhat ironically. “Think we just stepped into one.”

 

Peter grimaces. “Please don’t say that. The men never survive those.” 

 

“Aw, Petey,” Madison coos. “I’d protect you from the big bad.”

 

He sniffs, then shrugs, then reaches around Clover to squeeze Madison’s shoulder. “I’d be dead without you.”

 

“Darn tootin’,” Madison says, grinning as the other two let out little groans. “My final girl energy is too powerful. Monsters hate me for my vicious swag.”

 

“No way,” Clover side eyes her with a smirk. “You have second to last girl energy at best.”

 

“Ah!” The look of offense on Madison’s face makes Clover laugh. “Fuck you! I’m totally a final girl.” A shake of the head. Madison shoves her fists to her hips. “Fine, then. If I can’t hit your standards, who does?”

 

“Good question.” Clover looks up at the tree canopy as she thinks. “Mmm… you know, I think it’s Bonnie.” Two sets of eyes blink at her, then meet over the top of Clover’s head. They turn back to look ahead of them.

 

“That actually makes sense,” Madison mutters. “Bonnie’d make a horror movie monster cry.”

 

“She’d eviscerate them,” Peter says blankly, imagining the scenario in his head. Clover lifts her chin into the air, smug as a bug in a rug. Being right is simply delicious. 

 

“Kim has final girl energy,” Madison says. Then she purses her lips. “But, like, does she count? She’s a fucking monster, too. Wouldn’t she make a better horror movie villain?” 

 

“I don’t want to think about Kim as a horror movie villain.” The entire group shudders in fear. No one would survive that movie. 

 

Then, as if the world is playing some kind of sick joke on the three, it decides to build on their anxieties. Somewhere behind them is the snap of a twig. Everyone in the group immediately freezes in place, but the sound of crunching gravel under feet doesn’t stop for another half beat.  

 

Silence, except for wind brushing through the trees and bird song. 

 

The path to the mansion is long and winding. Beauty over function, with a slight incline as it takes someone from mansion to lake to mansion again. The forest on either side is shade dark and dense. Peter whirls around to look behind them, hand on his knife. The only thing he can see is trees and an empty gravel trail. The girls chance a peak. Clover swallows hard. 

 

“I was just joking about being in a horror movie,” she mumbles, grabbing onto Madison’s arm. “I don’t actually wanna be in one.” 

 

“Maybe it was an animal?” Madison says. The other two believe it as much as she does. 

 

“Maybe we should hurry back faster,” Peter says, glaring into the shadows. He waits for his companions to start walking, then steps backwards in paces, watching but seeing nothing. Peter turns around to follow the girls back to the mansion. It’s not far now. The next bend will open them up to the gravel driveway.

 

---

 

The heavy bump of the chainsaw on the tile floor brings a bit of calm to the room. By now, everyone knows what happened on the trail. Combined with their newest obstacle - two foot thick tree - more than one person is hunched over with fear. Max stands back up, a sawed off shotgun in his other hand. 

 

“Just in case,” he says when he sees others looking at him. “Like, it’s probably just an old tree saying hi to the reaper, but safety first, right?” Nods of approval all around. “Cool,” Max glances at the room. “So, uh, who’s joining me?”

 

“I will,” Ange says, drawing everyone’s eyes. She glances calmly around the room. “I can cut the tree or carry the shotgun, your pick.” 

 

“Oh.” Max coughs awkwardly into his hand. “I appreciate the offer, but, like…” He glances around, grimacing. “You’re a girl.” He cringes into his shoulders, and it’s the right thing to do. The other girls in the room let out scoffs and boos.

 

“What the hell does that mean?” Crystal says from her seat on the couch. “Girls can’t cut trees or shoot?” 

 

“I didn’t say that!” Max waves a hand. “It’s a- if-if any of you ladies got hurt ‘cause of a weirdo in the woods, I’d kick myself for the rest of my life.” Some of the girls back down. Only some of them. Max scrunches up his face in discomfort. “Listen, just, we know someone is out there skinning deer and chopping off their heads.” Max points out the window. “And they’re probably armed, and strong, and there might be more than one of them. Do you really want to mess with that?” 

 

“I don’t mind,” Ange says, frowning. “Sexual dimorphism doesn’t apply to me.”

 

“I- what?” Max doesn’t seem to know what Ange is talking about. Ange opens her mouth to explain.

 

“I’ll go,” Brick says, standing up. He’s the biggest person there, even stronger than Carson. “I can chain the saw, man. Let’s just get this over with.”

 

Max, relieved the subject is being pushed along, picks the chainsaw up and presses it into Brick’s giant chest. For once, Brick’s face is set with serious gravity. The only time he manages a smile is when Bonnie reaches over and touches his shoulder.

 

“Be careful out there,” she says with quiet worry and wide eyes. Brick places his giant hand over hers and gives it a light squeeze.

 

“It’s no big,” Brick says. “Me n’ Max make a great team. We’ll be back in ten.” 

 

Some of the others make little ‘aw’ noises. Ange crosses her arms and leans against the wall. She can’t bring herself to look at them. The two boys walk up to the front door and share a glance. They truly do make a good team. As one, they give each other a reassuring nod. Max twists the knob to the front door and pulls it open. Brick is already stepping outside, gripping the chainsaw in one hand. 

 

“Oh, holy fuck.” Normally, Brick is a loud boy. He’s huge. Naturally, his diaphragm is too. But now, he’s almost deathly quiet, because from the open door is the sound of footsteps. When Max looks out, he almost drops his shotgun. 

 

Clover, Madison, and Peter are walking up the driveway. They seem to relax when they catch sight of everyone by the doorway.

 

“Hey guys!” Clover says, waving over her head. 

 

“Get the fuck in the house!” Max says, waving them to come closer. “Hurry up!” His voice cracks half way through, and it hasn’t done that since the end of Freshman year. Clover’s face falls in confusion. Max waves his arms faster. “For the love of god! Listen to me!” 

 

Wondering what could cause such a reaction, the trio look around. One by one, they see it. At the trailhead they had just vacated stands something tall and brown. It almost looks like a tree, at first, if a tree could walk. Its fur blends in with the bark disturbingly well. The thing takes one step out onto the gravel driveway, beady round eyes trained right on them. Fear makes them freeze, and the thing doesn’t make another move. 

 

It just watches. 

 

Its head is twelve feet above the ground, with a flat face, and arms as thick as tree trunks. They hang down past its knees with powerful fingers that are almost scraping the ground. Its lips stretch long across its flat face, and there’s the tiniest curve of a smile on them. In horror, everyone stares as it tilts its head to the side. It’s quick and bird-like and it just watches .

 

“What the hell,” Peter breathes. He blindly reaches his arm out to his side and presses it on both of the girls. He can feel them shaking, and it almost makes him angry that something can do that to them. It would have, if he thought he could take whatever it was that he was staring at. “Go, we need to go.” 

 

Madison takes a shaky step backwards towards the mansion, and the moment her foot touches the ground, the thing peels its lips back from its teeth to smile and starts running.

 

It heaves its torso low to the ground, letting its knuckles touch gravel. On four legs, it gallops forwards with the strength and speed of a locomotive, each pace accompanied by thunderous crunching of the driveway. Rocks spray behind it like mist showers. The trio turn around and sprint for their lives, knowing it’s a fool's errand. The creature has already eaten up half the distance between them with ease. 

 

After only a few desperate steps, Peter can feel its foul, hot breath on his neck. Rabbit fear and a previously undiscovered drive to live keep him heading towards the mansion. Hands as big as his chest fall in front and to the side of them, digging into the ground. 

 

A shot cracks through space, echoing off the mountain sides. The thing staggers backwards for a single pace. The trio pass right by Max on the porch, then throw themselves into the house with sobbing babbles. Max cocks his shotgun with a glare, letting the cartridge of his slug clatter onto the wood.

 

“Fucker,” he spits out. But the scowl drops off his face when the creature stands back up, brushing the bullet off of its chest like a picked blade of grass. It grins again, meeting Max eye to eye. There’s a horrifying, infinite moment of nothing. Then it jerks its body forward and Max yelps and falls backwards on his ass. He starts scrambling desperately backwards until he’s inside of the house. Brick slams the door shut, hiding the horror from Max’s vision.

 

The trio are huddled inside the room, farthest from the entrance. Max shakes on the cold tile floor, shotgun clacking against it with each tremor. A most horrifying noise sounds right outside the door. 

 

”Ooh! Ooh! Ooh! ”

 

Laughter booms through the doorway. Low, guttural, ape like laughter. From her viewpoint, Bonnie can see the thing through the window. It’s on all fours, spine arched upwards like a threatened cat. It sways forwards and backwards on its limbs, letting each laugh rack its frame. Then the creature sits on its haunches to throw its arms up and down in the air. Clouds of dust hang at its feet. 

 

”Ooh! Ooh! Ooh! ”

 

“What do we do?” someone asks in the room, high pitched in freight. It can just barely be heard over the hellish sound from outside. “What the hell do we do?” 

 

For once, Bonnie doesn’t have an answer. She clutches Tara tighter, staring out the window. The creature is still shaking with laughter, but it’s calming down. Bonnie almost jumps out of her skin when it deliberately turns its head to look at her through the glass. She almost screams when it stands up, except all it does is turn around and lumber towards the forest.

 

“It’s going away,” Bonnie says waveringly. Everyone in the room calms down a fraction. Everyone but Ange, who snaps her head up.

 

“It’s going away!?” She pushes past Brick to grip the door handle. Before she can fully open it, Brick slams it shut. “Brick-”

 

“We can’t open this! What if it comes in?!” There’s genuine panic in his eyes. 

 

“I can’t let it reach the tree line!” Ange yells. “Once it reaches the tree line we’ll-” She jerks the door back open (Brick gapes at her with an open mouth), only to stare at the empty driveway. An expanse of gravel with cars parked on one side, framed by a dense forest. “We won’t know where it's gone…” Ange mumbles under her breath. 

 

“What are you going to do about it?” A voice from the crowd scoffs. “I don’t know if you were paying attention, but bigfoot just brushed off a gunshot!” It’s Amelia. Her beautiful face is pale and drawn in fear. Two of her friends are clutching her each of her hands, white knuckled. Amelia musters a laugh that sounds almost like a sob. “It’ll snap you like a twig. You think you’re actually going to fight that thing?”

 

“Yeah.” Ange doesn’t look at her as she says it. She keeps scanning the driveway. Forest silence, birdsongs and wind. Why are the birds still singing? Don’t they go quiet around a predator. She purses her lips and sets her jaw. That thing had flat teeth, like an herbivore. Deep inside her psyche, Ange searches for courage she doesn’t have. She can’t bring herself to look away from the trees. “If I have to.”

 

 

Chapter 80: Chapter 79

 

“We should all pack up,” Ange says, back to the group. 

 

For some people, that’s all they need to hear. In pairs, trios, or more, people sort out of the room to gather their things. No one wants to be alone right now, and the quicker they can get away, the better things will turn out. Hopefully. 

 

Not everyone goes. When Ange finds the mettle to look away from the forest, the people that matter are still there. Donavan, Riley, Brick (unfortunately. Ange immediately feels bad for thinking that), Tara, and Bonnie. It almost makes her feel human. These are her people.

 

“Angelus,” Donavan says first, looking at her, then the forest, then back. “Do you really think there’s a way out of here?” 

 

“Yes,” Ange says immediately, with so much conviction and composure it’s almost believable. Then she grins, which might be a little out of place in the situation. “Anything’s possible for a Possible-” 

 

“Oh my god,” Bonnie walks over and flicks her on the shoulder. “Angie, I can’t believe you just said that.” 

 

A pout. “What’s wrong with that?” 

 

“We aren’t Possibles, stupid!” With her fists on her hips, Bonnie stomps a foot. “So, like, maybe you’ll figure it out, but we’re shit out of luck.” Ange opens her mouth and Bonnie shoves her palm over it. “And if you tell me to watch my language, I’m throwing you out of the house.”

 

Falling into this familiar pattern makes the line of tension in Ange’s shoulders loosen. She reaches up and peels Bonnie’s hand off of her face with gentle care. “We’re getting out of here,” Ange says, squeezing Bonnie’s hand. She levels a look at everyone in this room. “I’m taking you with me. All of you.”

 

“If you say so,” Riley mutters. He doesn’t believe her words. 

 

That’s fine. Ange goes back to looking out, scanning through the shade of trees. He hasn’t known her long enough to know she always keeps her promises.

 

---

 

It takes ten and a half minutes exactly for it to begin. Ange spends the first six of it leaning against the doorframe, watching, watching, watching. There’s something cold stirring inside of her, something she’s felt more than once. It winds over itself like a serpent raising its head from its coiled body. 

 

After six minutes the first few teenagers start to filter back in. She hears them walking before they even enter the room, dragging their backpacks or duffel bags, and hunched against themselves. Ange tears her eyes away from the driveway to look at them. They resemble timid puppies.

 

She gives them a reassuring smile they don’t return. Max enters next, face drawn and holding his backpack by the top strap. It swings by his legs with each step. Even though it isn’t helpful, the barrel of the shotgun sticks out of it towards the ceiling. One must find comfort where they can. Keon follows him. Then Amelia. Then Donavan and Brick together. They must be sharing a room.

 

“What the fuck are we gonna do, man,” Keon whimpers out, flopping heavily onto the couch. Max gives him a hopeless, miserable look. 

 

“Don’t ask me. I’m out of ideas.”

 

“We can’t give up,” Brick says, joining the two boys. They look at him, but shake their heads. Unlike a football game, this is real life. The consequences are worse if they mess up. “Seriously, bro, once we give in, we lose.”

 

“I appreciate it. I really do,” Max says, rubbing his temples. “But that thing ate a fucking shotgun blast like grape jelly, Brick. We’re S.O.O.L. Shit out of luck.”

 

“I really wish you wouldn’t cuss,” Ange mumbles under her breath. Unfortunately, the gravity in the room has made it especially silent. Multiple heads swivel towards her. Irritation paints wrinkles onto Max’s forehead.

 

“Shut up, Possible.” 

 

Ange purses her lips. That’s just not very nice. For the sake of preventing an argument, she doesn’t respond. Anything she’d say would just be awful. 

 

“Don’t talk to her like that,” Donavan says instead. His hands are curled in fists, his mouth is curved into a huge frown. Despite herself, and the fight that is obviously just about to begin, Ange smiles. Donavan is her favorite boy for a reason.

 

“Or what, Donny,” Max jumps to his feet. Donavan is a small boy. If Ange’s calculations are correct (and they are) he’s one inch shorter than Bonnie and twelve point zero eight pounds lighter. Max isn’t the tallest boy there, but he still looms over Donavan’s head. “What’re you gonna do to stop me?” A dark smile. “Calculate at me until I kill myself?”

 

“Don’t speak to Donavan like that,” Ange says. Max whirls on her, which is better. She can actually take him, not that Max seems like the type to hit a girl. 

 

“Oh shove off, lady,” Max scoffs, stepping away from the couch to approach her at the door. “We’re tired of your holier than thou’ bullshit.” 

 

Ange steadily tracks his action as he gets closer and closer. Despite her genome editing, her height hasn’t changed all that much. Max is still taller than her by a few inches. She meets his blue eyes with her own. Her open and calm observation must really piss him off, because he sneers out a smile.

 

“Look, your little make over thing is cute. Covering up the outside doesn’t change the fact that you’re a fucking autistic, psycho freak.” That actually makes her frown.

 

“We don’t talk to people like that,” Ange says quietly. Max rolls his eyes. 

 

“What the fuck is going on in Bonnie’s head?” he asks rhetorically (probably, but Ange isn’t going to take the question literally right now). “I bet she just felt sorry for you or something. You’re a complete loser.”

 

“Hey!” That’s Brick, shifting uncomfortably in his seat on the couch. “Max, that’s really mean.” 

 

“Shove off, Brick. I’m dishing out some truth here!” Max waves a hand at him. He doesn’t look away from Ange, though. Unamused, lidded ocean eyes meet his glare. “Listen, Ange, you really gotta lay off Bonnie’s coattails. One, she’s way out of your league.” That makes her twitch. Max can tell he got under her skin because he smirks. “And two, you bring down the vibe of the entire room. No one likes you.” 

 

“Max!” Two boys speak at the same time. Brick has stood up from his seat. The uncharacteristic frown on his face is actually kind of sweet. Ange would have been annoyed by that if she wasn’t trying to calm down other emotions already. Riley, who has finally come back from his room, stands in the doorway. He’s got a snarl on his face that would make a wolf proud. 

 

“That’s going too far, man,” Brick says. 

 

Riley just stomps over to Max. For once, Max actually looks like he’s reevaluating his decisions. Riley is bigger than him, and he makes it look easy when he grabs Max by his collar.

 

“Say that again, buddy,” Riley grits out. Max stares into his eyes, angrily trying not to become cowed. “I dare you too.” 

 

“I said, Ange is an autistic, fucking loser. Pathetic, too,” Max says, staring defiantly up at Riley’s handsome face. The muscles in Riley’s forearms ripple and flex as he tenses his fists further. Ange places a hand on one of them, letting it rest there until Riley looks at her. She gives him her sweetest, warmest smile. Warm enough for Riley to loosen his grip and widen his eyes at her.

“Thanks, Riles,” Ange mumbles. His cheeks go a little red. She hopes she didn’t just reignite his crush on her. Without looking at Max, Riley lets him go and shoves him away by the chest. 

 

“Yeah, Ange. Anytime.” He scratches at his cheek, suddenly adorably shy. Max recovers from his stumbling by hitting the other end of the doorframe. 

 

“Wha-” Max sputters out, a picture of disbelief, anger, and frustration. Ange puts an open palm in his face before he can regain any steam.

 

“Let’s put this on hold until our bigfoot ‘sitch is taken care of,” Ange says. 

 

Just like that, they’re back in reality. All of the aggression in the room leaves, replaced by helpless fear. Max goes back to leaning on the doorway. Riley hugs his arms around himself. Ange looks around at all the people. 

 

Just a second ago, they had been watching the drama unfold with various levels of amusement, glee, annoyance, or offense. Now, they’re hopeless. 

 

“We’re dead,” someone moans. “We’re so dead.” 

 

It just won’t do. The first thing to do isn’t battle the creature. It’s to improve morale. Ange straightens her back.

 

“We are not dead,” she says, folding her arms behind her back the way she’s seen her mama do when she’s briefing her people. “And we aren’t going to die.” Her face is set in steady determination as she makes eye contact with each and every one of the people in the room. She says what she means, and what she says is this: “I am going to get you out of here, alive and unharmed. I swear it.” 

 

Ten and a half minutes finish their passing. It begins.

 

The large pane window overlooking the driveway explodes inwards in a shower of glass. Everyone in the room flinches with pure terror. Everyone but Ange, who has gone on too many missions with Kim to be phased by much. Max falls to his knees, covering his head for protection. A few students sprint backwards to hide behind the couch. Some even completely abscond from the room and back down the hallway. Those lucky few are spared the sight of a skinned, headless deer sailing through the air, only to land in a heap of gore and shards on the coffee table. The beautiful tinkle of glass landing on tile accompanies it as a song.

 

Screams fill the air. Donavan looks like he’s about to puke as he scrambles backwards. Outside, the Ooh, ooh, ooh! of the sasquatch’s laughter echoes through the forest. Ange turns on her heel to snarl on it, and stops short. 

 

“Oh god,” Ange whispers. Only Max and Riley are close enough to hear it. The yells drown everything else out. 

 

At the tree line, the creature leans a hand against a tree and hunches over. Its huge back shakes with guttural laughter, lips pulled back over its herbivorous teeth. In the middle of the driveway, as if placed with great care, sits a little boy. The screams from the room mask his crying. Big wet tears slide down his tiny face. He’s wearing pajamas, as if he’s just been plucked out of bed.

This little boy is a speck on the white gravel driveway. Small. He’s so small. 

 

That cold thing in Ange’s chest hisses. 

 

---

 

Max Falcon has always been fast. Always. 

 

He’s been outrunning adults since he was six years old, and has only gotten faster with age. Sports, physicality, it’s a breeze. He’d dominated his middle school's track and field so completely, it bored him. When he’d entered high school, he’d hungered for an actual challenge. Joining the Middleton Maddogs had been a no brainer.

 

It makes him happy. Truly happy. Football itself is fun. No opposing team is the same. There is always something new to learn. There is always something else to practice. The conditioning and dedication required to be good is grueling. The conviction it took to be great is another animal entirely. An animal he’s chasing the haunches of, slowly gaining on it with each step of his feet. Dad says he’s destined for the NFL. Max believed him with sharp teeth. 

 

Max spent his entire Freshman year dedicated to getting there. This year, he’d been working even harder. Staying behind after practice to run drills on repeat every time. Brick, the future quarterback, was the only guy who did the same. That kind of conviction isn’t something he can ignore. Max is convinced Brick is headed for the NFL too.

 

Now Max knows his dad is wrong about him. The stadium isn’t his destiny, it’s a fucking side quest. He was made for this moment. 

 

His legs are moving before he even thinks about it. Powerful kicks that punch into the tile, then the wood of the porch, then the gravel of the driveway. Someone cries out behind him. He pays them no thought because movement requires no thought. Max runs like lightning, like fire in the middle of a windstorm. The distance between him and this little boy closes in seconds. Max keeps him in his crosshairs the entire time.

 

The child is crying hard, he doesn’t even notice the approach. Max runs so fast, when he jams his shoe into the ground, the gravel gives out beneath him. His conditioning pays off. Automatically, he stutter steps to keep his footing, almost overshooting the boy by a few feet. 

 

Anger rages as Max gets a good look at him. He can’t be older than two! 

 

Max scoops him up in his arms, pressing the boy's face against his chest. He reverses direction only an instant later - a fraction slower than that thing. Before he’s fully turned to face the mansion, he gets the shortest glimpse of it lowering itself onto all fours and winding up. 

 

The sound of its first galloping lopes send horror through Max’s spine. They’re heavy, clumsy things, but they’re fast, and the weight of a child is solid and unfamiliar. Max leans forward and pumps his legs faster. Less than half way back, he knows he’s not going to make it. 

 

ThumpthumpthumpthUMPTHUMP THUMPTHUMP 

 

Max has always been fast. Always. But he is just a man. 

 

It doesn’t matter how desperately he urges his legs to move, or how much conditioning he puts himself through. It took Max seconds to reach the boy. It takes the creature one to be on him, eating the distance between them easily. A hand as big as his chest slams into the ground in front and to the right of him. White pebbles fly into the air. A hand as big as his chest bashes the dirt in front and to the left of him. More gravel takes flight. 

 

Right behind his neck is a puff of hot, foul breathing. The giant hand on his right lifts off the ground. The creature's long arm swivels it right in front of Max’s face. He can see the details of its palm and five fingers. There’s soil caking the crevices of the wrinkles in leather thick skin. The hand hovers in place, letting him run into it. He can’t stop this quickly, not at this speed, with gravel instead of turf under his feet. Tears fill his eyes.

 

He is just a man, and he’s going to die. 

 

“MAX!” someone screams. It might be the last thing he ever hears- “HIT THE DECK!”

 

He doesn’t try to stop. It would take too long. Without thinking, because the instinct to live doesn’t require thought, his legs give out from underneath him. His knees hit the ground, then his forearms as he cradles the boy in the cage of his limbs. He slides an entire foot like this, rocks dig into his skin with pin sharp pain. The creature’s huge hand grazes his hair, but it doesn’t connect. 

 

There is the shortest glimpse of something that sails over his head, bullet straight and rocket quick. An awful, blaring CRUNCH cracks out loud right behind him. An animal that he’s never heard before bellows out a roar that makes his eardrums ring. For an eternal moment, he just stares at the white gravel right in front of his face. Then he looks forward.

 

Ange is standing there on the porch, slightly bent like a Bengal staring down unassuming prey. Her eyes are as blue as the ocean, and just as cold. Max feels himself shaking. The thing behind him lets out grunts.

 

“Get back here, Max,” Ange says.

 

Max climbs back onto his feet and starts running. He makes it back to the porch in seconds. Ange straightens out as he approaches, not taking her eyes off a spot behind him, not even when he passes beside her.

 

“Good boy,” she says as he does. 

 

Numb fear simmers away into something soft and vulnerable. He barely registers the other students crowding the doorway, gaping. Max turns around to look at Ange one more time.

 

A head of copper brown hair gently catches the wind. Her spine is a line pointing towards the heavens. She doesn’t look back at him, not once. 

 

In front of her, in the white gravel driveway, is the creature and the remains of the couch that had called the living room its home. The thing heaves itself up onto its hind legs, towering twelve feet in the air. The look it gives her is deadly and amused. Ange rolls her shoulder, takes a step forward. Her foot doesn’t make a single sound as it makes contact with the wooden porch.

 

Max clutches the little boy to his chest. He’s not shaking anymore. Ange takes another step, and maybe - just maybe - everything will actually be okay.

 

Notes:

Woohoo!! himpalo vs Ange next chappy lets goooooo

Chapter 81: Interlude - the various drawings of bongelus 2 electric boogaloo

Notes:

I've been doodling more as my carpal tunnel has improved. have some art.

 

 

 

 

 

Notes:

the himpalo scares me D8

Chapter 82: Chapter 80

Notes:

lots of violence in this one.

 

Bonnie and Tara walk up to the third floor together. Ange had asked them to pack for her, refusing to leave her post at the door like she thought she was some kind of sentinel. Idiot. 

 

The door closes behind Bonnie. It’s just the two of them now. There’s a silence between them that hasn’t ever existed before. Bonnie tells herself it’s because an honest to god sasquatch decided to torment them to make herself feel better. It doesn’t really work. Drawers open, clothes are placed into their bags. They work back to back, and it’s Bonnie who breaks first.

 

“Tara,” she says. She hears Tara still behind her, and Bonnie turns around. Platinum blonde hair that falls in waves all the way down to Tara’s slender waist. Bonnie makes sure not to stare at that. Her cheeks flush. Damnit, this is definitely another point in Brick’s (less ridiculous sounding) theory that she enjoys women. “I need you to help me out with something.”

 

Tara turns, hooking the palm of her hands on the dresser and pulling herself up to sit. The smile she gives Bonnie is both warm and cautious. Which is, like, fair. This is the first time they’ve been alone since…

 

“What’s up, Bonnie?” Tara asks, bringing Bonnie out of her reverie. Tara’s smile doesn’t falter when Bonnie narrows her eyes, but Tara’s known her long enough to know she’s not mad. Not really. 

 

She’s weighing her decisions. 

 

On one hand, there’s fucking bigfoot outside. He’s twelve feet tall, fast as fuck, and gets off on toying with them. Despite what Angie had said downstairs, Bonnie doesn’t really believe they’ll all make it out of here alive. So, not really the time to experiment. 

 

On the other, this is the first time she’s been alone with Tara since they’d kissed, and Bonnie hasn’t been able to think about much else since. Her heart is already dancing to the tune of a rabbit beat. Bonnie steps towards her. Satisfyingly, Tara’s eyes widen the closer she gets. They could die today. It’s not something Bonnie is trying to conceptualize too deeply, but she knows it’s a very real possibility. So, maybe it’s the best time to experiment. 

 

The dresser has given Tara height. Face to face, Bonnie has to tilt her head up a little to look at her. They’re so close, she feels Tara’s nose brush against hers. “Tell me to stop,” Bonnie whispers out a plea that she hopes Tara won’t grant. “Tell me to stop so I’ll be able to forget about this.” 

 

Bright blue eyes, sunny cloudless skies, meet her own. The warm press of a forehead against hers makes Bonnie’s eyelids flutter. Tara smiles like summer.

 

“I don’t want to,” Tara murmurs in the space between them. Their lips are close enough that they whisper against each other. Bonnie feels her hands twitch, so she balls them at her sides. Tara’s eyes squint with gentle amusement. Brat. “I don’t think you do either.” 

 

Her voice makes the back of Bonnie’s mind buzz. It makes her twitch like a startled animal. Bonnie’s never been, like, the bravest person in the world. Up until now, she hadn’t had much of a reason to fight for herself. Heaven knows she doesn’t deserve it. She knew she didn’t deserve it (let alone deserve Tara, who is gentle and kind and good in every way she isn’t).

 

(More than once, she’s asked herself why Tara might stay beside her. There’s never a satisfying answer. Her first instinct has always been to rend. Bonnie has razor thorns and sharp claws. Her offerings are the edges of a knife. It’s easier to cut than to mend. It’s harder to give than to take.)

 

(It’s safer to bare her teeth. The impulse to hurt is right there under her like a second skin.) 

 

Bonnie stares at sunny skies. Just this once, she’ll show someone her throat. It could be the last chance she gets. (That’s not why she’s doing it. How many lies can she tell herself? Why can’t she ever believe them?)

 

Hesitantly, Bonnie brings her head forward. She watches Tara’s eyes drift shut. Soft lips meet her own. The coil of tension deep in her guts goes slack. Tara wears strawberry lip gloss. It’s the last coherent thought Bonnie is able to form before she closes her eyes and gives into sensation. 

 

Never has something felt so right. Tara is slight, with delicate movements that make Bonnie’s knees turn to jelly. Hands wrap around her waist, steadying her. Entirely different from a man, because it makes her feel protected. Bonnie whimpers, clutching at Tara’s short sleeved shirt. The little hum Tara responds with gets swallowed into her mouth.

 

The sound of kissing, the scent of citrus, the taste of Tara’s sweet tongue, everything, makes Bonnie breathless. She clings tighter, kisses deeper, breathing from her nose to make this last longer. Tara, her Tara, is perfect. This moment is perfect. She wishes with her entire being for this to never end. 

 

The universe isn’t so kind. 

 

Shattering glass is what pulls them apart. Two sets of eyes snap back open into reality. Bliss drains into fear. Screaming from two stories down sends tremors through their bodies, and Tara holds onto her tighter. They hold a silent conversation through interlocked gazes.

 

What’s worse, staying up here in the unknown, or joining the danger of the first floor?

 

Ange is downstairs 

 

Not only that, the cheer squad could get hurt. Not only that, so could everyone else. Bonnie and Tara share equally their acceptance and despair. Tara reaches over to take her hand. They clutch onto each other like lifelines. 

 

“We’ll be okay,” Bonnie lies. Tara manages a smile, even though Bonnie knows Tara knows that she’s lying. 

 

“Let’s go then,” Tara says, voice shaking at the end. Hatred simmers underneath Bonnie’s breast. She never wants to hear Tara speak like that again. Bonnie takes a prepping breath, and freezes it half way through her lungs when something catches her eye. 

 

“Let’s go then,” Bonnie echoes with slow dawning. Her lips turn in a dark and cruel smile. White teeth flash. Bonnie reaches her arm to the side. “Tara,” she almost purrs, but it’s too sadistic to be that. “We’ll be okay.” 

 

Tara’s pretty eyes are wide open with surprise. She follows Bonnie’s arm down to her hand. What she sees makes her smile. A real, albeit slightly nervous, one. Maybe Ange’s promise isn’t entirely fantasy.

 

Manicured fingers with long nails painted ocean blue wrap around a metal hilt. With a tug, the cable plugged into the wall unhooks from it. All it would take is a flick of the switch at the bottom for Ange’s lightsaber to generate a green, powerful laser, but Bonnie holds off. This isn’t a toy.

 

It can cut through anything. 

 

---

 

As large as a mountain and just as solid, the creature looms tall enough to block the sun. Every step Ange takes closer grows the violent amusement in its beady round eyes. She can see the thoughts forming inside its mind. Her foot touches gravel. The thing hops up and down, shaking its arms out like a boxer warming up. Staring at it is like staring at a person. Intelligent, capable, potential cruelty in bipedal form.

 

Ange is a person too. She pushes off, starting at a jog that quickens with each pace. Bared teeth flash at her. Blood pumps through her veins. The creature swings its powerful arm back, then shoots it forward like an arrow. Its hand is bigger than her torso, dwarfing her. Ange curls hers into a fist and throws the first punch of her life. 

 

Booming thunder cracks along the mountain face, echoing for miles. It’s like meeting a meteor head on. Her entire arm vibrates. Ange’s feet leave the ground and she flies backwards through the air at speed. Not taking her eyes off of it, she flips her body over herself and hits the ground with two feet and a skid of gravel. She digs her other hand a half foot into the packed dirt, forcibly clawing away her momentum. Ange shows it her incisors.

 

The thing rolls its wrist experimentally. It stares at the bruise starting to form on the one finger Ange made contact with, then back at her. 

 

Ooh! Ooh! it laughs out loud. 

She pushes backwards, coiling like a spring, then throws herself forward with her arm and legs. Ten feet pass underneath her before she touches the gravel again. Her foot smashes the ground, sending her sailing up and into the air. That thing tracks her with its head, winding its arm back once more as she starts to descend on it. Skull sized knuckles fire up to meet her.

 

It makes contact with her open palms. Ange digs her fingers around the bone, leveraging herself into a flip that lands her feet on the top of its hand. It doesn’t even get a moment to process before she bolts a foot into the flesh between its metacarpals. The fist jerks down like a hammer. Ange propels forwards like the stone from a sling, connecting the first two knuckles of her hand right into its chin and pushing through with all the strength programmed into her genome.

 

Finally, the creature learns what it means to fly. For an entire second, it doesn’t touch ground. When it does, it sends a spray of gravel and dust high into the air. It impacts the ground with a snarl, rolling over itself again and again until it finally stills. 

 

By the time it’s pulled itself upright, Ange has already touched ground. It catches sight of her mid sprint, advancing towards it with the speed and strength of a locomotive. The creature has enough time to let out one annoyed huff. Ange smirks at it. 

 

An arm as thick as a log sweeps into her side like a concussion. 

 

Fighting something so large and strong is entirely alien, not that Ange has much experience. It’s nothing like Shifu, who is all agility and technique. Maybe more similar to Shego, who can punch just as hard, but not really. Shego isn’t a twelve foot tall mass of muscle, just a five nine foot tall mass of muscle. 

 

Ange whizzes parallel to the ground so quickly, she has no time to prepare. Her back slams into the trunk of a two foot wide tree. The entire forest feels it. Blankly, Ange stares at the canopy, only to realize it’s moving. The baritone crunch of roots and displaced soil catches her ears. Slowly, then quickly, the tree Ange has been smashed against falls into the earth. In the distance is the sound of people yelling and screaming. 

 

It’s hard to hear against the ringing in her ears. She needs to recover. 

 

A grunt of pain is the only indulgence she gives herself as she rolls to the side. She lets her feet hit the ground and carry her weight, hand resting on the splintered impact crater left on the trunk. Her head swivels side to side as she locates the creature again. Fear when she realizes it's moving towards the mansion . Fury when she catches sight of Bonnie, her Bonnie, standing at the doorway. 

 

With glacier cold deliberation, Ange looks at the fallen giant her hand rests upon.

 

---

 

Hell has broken loose when Bonnie makes it back to the living room. She expected it, of course. But not this brand of it.

 

There’s a dead, skinned, headless (ew) deer on the coffee table, laying there like decoration. Her peers are giving it a wide berth. They’d probably be hiding behind the couch, except the couch is completely gone. The thought of someone redecorating in this situation almost brings hysterical laughter bubbling up her throat. The sound of artillery impacts keeps her from it. It sounds like artillery, at least. What she imagines artillery sounds like- she’s running away with this metaphor.

 

Bonnie is about to glance outside when she hears the sound of a child crying. She looks towards the kitchen and sees Donavan and Max - has she gone crazy? Maybe she’s actually dead right now and this is some weird purgatory? - doting over a small, small boy covered in a warm blanket. Max has him in his arms, bouncing him gently up and down. Donavan is mixing up a bowl of steaming apple cinnamon oatmeal. The scent fills up the house. It’s comforting and entirely out of place. Tara and Bonnie exchange a glance, and Tara finally shrugs. The most reasonable response. 

 

Loud creaking, then a crash is what draws her attention back outside. Bonnie slides her hand into Tara’s and picks her way to the front of the crowd. She makes it just in time to see Sasquatch himself lumbering towards them.

 

It’s like staring up at an elephant. Bonnie knew it was tall, she’d seen it just earlier. They’d locked eyes through a pane of glass. They lock eyes once more, now with nothing between them. Despite the weapon in her hand, fear makes ice in her veins. 

 

Tara gives her other hand a squeeze and Bonnie remembers to breathe. She glances at Tara, nods once. Tara reluctantly lets her go, and she misses the warmth of Tara’s hand immediately.

 

“Get back, boys,” Bonnie says, pushing at Riley’s solid chest. Maybe he is worthy of Angie. He’s fit as hell. “I’m going to kick its ass.”

 

Brick, besides her turns to gape. “Do you have super powers too?”

 

Bonnie isn’t like Kim or Ange. She’s never had combat experience before. Discipline, she has in droves, but not the training required to survive a lethal encounter. She forgets herself to give Brick a befuddled, opened mouth stare. 

 

“What-”

 

The turn of her head means she misses it when a giant tree swivels around the length of the driveway and slams into the creature's side. She hears it, of course. It’s a noise, sudden and loud enough to make her jump into the air. She looks back outside to see the tree and bigfoot himself flying several yards away. Her brain just doesn’t comprehend it, and, whose would? Trees don’t throw themselves at things.

 

“-The fuck?”

 

A figure blurs past her vision, following the path the creature has been forcibly guided into. A familiar figure. One that chases it down and leaps onto its torso. Bonnie feels her mouth drop open. The sound of a fist pounding into fur covered flesh fills the empty driveway.

 

“Is that Angie?”

 

“You don’t get to touch her!” Angie roars, emphasizing every word with another thunderous punch. Bonnie’s face goes a little red. 

 

“Yeah,” Brick says, staring at the sight and oblivious to Bonnie’s feelings. “What the hell does she eat?” he asks. Then, “do you think she’ll share?”

 

The giant hand of the giant creature snaps into motion. Ange lets out a pained yelp when it wraps around her. Dread fills Bonnie when the arm makes a long semi-circle through the air and smashes her, back first, into the driveway. The creature swings itself onto its feet and starts sprinting . Awful, continuous crackling fills the air as it drags Ange along the ground, putting all of its weight on her. 

 

Before the molten fury inside of Bonnie can erupt, it lets out a surprised, strangled roar and jerks its hand away. So large is this creature that, even from across the driveway, everyone watching can see the mangled, crushed thumb hanging off its hand. 

 

On the ground, movement. Ange flips onto her feet and beelines for it. Bonnie is trying to figure out how to get this lightsaber into Ange’s hands when the creature turns its back to all of them and flings itself into the tree line. 

 

Ange - smart, intelligent, incredibly stupid, moronic Ange - lets out a frustrated scream and sprints after it. “Get back here!” Ange roars. The sound of crashing underbrush and heavy footsteps fade as they head deeper into the forest. Bonnie gapes at the spot they’d disappeared in. 

 

“Ange!” Bonnie cries out into the forest. Far away, there’s a boom. The canopy of a tall tree shakes. A flock of birds take to the air. Bonnie stares out at the trees, cursing Ange in her head. If she died out in that forest, Bonnie would never know. She cups a hand to her mouth and puts her entire body into her next yell. “Ange, you idiot! You better come back!”

 

Her only answer is a distant crash. Her only hope is that Ange isn’t the one hurting.

 

---

 

The forest is like an animal of its own. Branches whip at her face, roots try to claw her to the ground. Sometimes, the forest floor will drop out from underneath her into a creak or other natural crevice. But she can’t stop, because that thing is still alive. Ange can hear it sprinting across the land. Ange grins, even through her aching back and throbbing hand. 

 

She’s getting closer.

 

It’s only a little faster than a deer. Ange is only a little faster than that. It will do. 

 

Its footsteps stop short. It’s her only warning before a long branch sails towards her, point first. Ange leaps up towards the canopy and the branch spears deep into soil underneath her. She grips the trunk of a tree with one hand and squeezes. Bark cracks into splinters underneath her fingers. Propping her feet against the log, Ange scans her eyes around her and sees the creature staring at her, dumbfounded.

 

When their eyes meet, it shifts into something calculating and dangerous. Ange gives it the kind of smile it gave her friends earlier, and it moves backwards a step. Then it leans forward and slaps its knee in a gesture that is so human a shiver runs down Ange’s spine. “ Ooh! Ooh! Ooh!” it laughs. At least one of them is having fun.

 

Ange flexes the muscles in her legs and kicks off the tree so hard it snaps in half. The top of it shifts, then falls over itself onto the forest floor. The creature shifts quickly enough to avoid Ange when she launches right at it. Instead of hitting its chest, her fist touches nothing. The palm of the creature’s hand smacks her back, batting her right into the ground. Face first, she makes a crater in the soil. It deepens when that same hand smashes across her shoulder blades and stays there.

 

It wants to smother me, Ange realizes as it grinds her down. She grits her teeth, braces her hands and legs and starts pushing. The weight on her shoulders intensifies, but it’s not enough. Her muscles flex and shake. Painfully slow, she lifts herself off the ground. When she’s high enough, she turns her head and looks up at it through a gap in its massive fingers.

 

“-’m stronger than you,” She grits out. Its eyes go wide. Ange’s do too. “You can understand-AH!” 

 

The full weight of the creature lurches downwards. Not expecting it, Ange strikes the ground. Dirt and rock uproot as it swipes her sideways into the earth, gathering momentum. Then she’s airborne (and getting quite tired of being thrown around). She wipes the soil out of her eyes to see a wall of grey looming towards her. There’s just enough time for her to wrap her arms around her head before-

 

BOOM

 

Agony. Hot, stabbing pain, starting at the forearm and traveling to her shoulder draws out a strangled cry. One long fissure forms vertically throughout the entire boulder. With a crack, it clefts in two. Ange falls to the ground, landing on her broken arm with a whimper. She rolls onto her side, staring blearily at the monster. There’s a smile on its face again. It holds up its hand, crushed thumb forward. 

 

Broken bone for broken bone. Ange huffs out through her nose. 

 

Unnaturally tall, bipedal, and covered in fur, it starts a slow and lumbering forward walk. Its form gets bigger and bigger in her eyes, until she can’t even see its head anymore. Until the only thing she can see are its giant legs and feet. Ange presses her good hand into the ground and tries to push herself up, but it doesn’t give her the chance. It lifts a knee and slams the bottom of its foot down onto her torso. 

 

Pressure. Pressure, and the bone deep radiating pain of a shattered arm, are the only thing that matters. It rolls her onto her back specifically so she can see its grinning face as it grinds down. The more pressure, the less breath she has to fill her lungs. Her vision starts going dark at the edges.

 

Think, Angie. Weakly, she looks around her environment. Grasses, soil, a shattered rock. Ange flexes her good arm, lifts the creature a fraction of a millimeter, and the pressure increases. All of the air in Ange’s lungs escapes her.

 

Once, when she was a younger child, her mama had taken a rare leave of absence from work and returned home. Mama had used the opportunity to teach her a bit more about her Kostraman lineage. We’re born with luck in our blood, she’d said to Ange. How well you use it, I leave to you.

 

When Ange had asked her if the luck was good or bad, Dolores hadn’t clarified. She’d just pressed the palm of her warm hand to the top of Ange’s head and ruined her hairdo. 

 

In the direction of the mansion, far in the distance, the roar of a chainsaw comes to life. The pressure abates just enough for Ange to take a half breath. Ange forces it to be enough.

 

She sinks her elbow into the earth. It gives her the room to unbend it, and she grabs the bottom of a giant toe so fiercely, her fingers sink deep into the flesh. Using all of her strength, all of it , Ange rips her arm upwards. 

 

The bone snaps in half like a popsicle stick. Ange feels the way it rifts into two pieces. She pushes harder, wrenches faster, ripping the entire toe over itself onto the top of the foot. The monster lets out an ear rattling howl that echoes across the entire mountain. It spasms backwards. Angelus takes a holy breath and rolls onto her knees.

 

Movement, and it must be swift. They make vicious eye contact. It snarls like the animal it is. Her working hand reaches up to her collar and rips her shirt from her body like tissue paper. The thing narrows its round eyes at her. She folds her bad arm against her stomach and wraps the fabric around it. The bigfoot bends its knees, lowering its center of gravity. Ange stills and tenses. An eternity passes within a half second. Then, like lightning falling from the sky, the monster turns on its heel and starts to stampede towards the mansion. 

 

“NO!” 

 

Desperately, Ange finishes off her makeshift sling. She can’t take her eyes off the monster, tracking its back through the forest. Fingers and teeth tie the knot. Ange gets onto her feet. With glacier cold deliberation, Ange rests her hand on the cold, solid surface of the shattered boulder that almost killed her.

Chapter 83: Chapter 81

Notes:

Blood is briefly mentioned a few times in this chappy

 

“Get the chainsaw,” Bonnie says as she finally turns away from the forest. The many eyes of her peers stare back at her, and no one does anything for a moment too long. She places a hand on her hip, cocks it, and gives them an unamused stare. “Come on, guys.” Bonnie says, adopting her haughtiest and most scathing tone. “I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to fucking die yet. I’m too pretty for that.” To emphasize her point, she flips her hair over her shoulder. “Angie just gave us an opening to leave. Are we gonna take it or not?” 

 

Being the queen of Middleton High has its perks. The biggest is that people listen to her. Carson, still clutching his pack, picks up the chainsaw. “I’m with you, Bonnie!” He pushes past everyone to hustle onto the driveway. “I’m getting the hell out of here.” 

 

One of the perks of being the (vice) cheer captain is that she has plenty of experience organizing. Bonnie looks at the others. “Put your shit in the car. You should all be ready to go as quick as possible.” She snaps her fingers twice. “Chop chop.” That spurs action in everyone. 

 

Teens pile out of the doorway, some more apprehensive than others. The occasional boom or crack is heard in the distance. Every one of them makes the group flinch. Only a few people stay back in the house, and Bonnie almost starts yelling at them before she realizes who they are. 

 

Riley is frowning at her. She can see the fear behind it. Donavan and Max have wandered back from the kitchen. Donavan is dabbing at the little boy’s mouth with a wet paper towel. It’s a little surprising to think it, but Bonnie is pretty sure they will both be amazing fathers someday. There’s Tara, clutching the doorway as she nervously looks around outside. Bonnie walks over to hold her hand, for herself as much as for Tara. 

 

She’s scared too. A leader can’t let that show. 

 

“We can’t leave her,” Riley says, staring in the general direction of distant crashing. “I mean- I’m not- I’m not going to.” For one second, Bonnie hates him. She hates him for being so kind and loyal. She hates him for having Ange. Immediately, it’s replaced with hatred for herself. To hate someone for being a good man is incomprehensible. Ange deserves him. He deserves her, if this is how he’ll treat her. And Bonnie deserves to hate herself- 

 

Tara squeezes her hand. Bonnie looks at her beautiful face, studies the anxiety behind her smile. A part of Bonnie hates herself even more, and she’s not sure why, only that she should.

 

I’m a bad person, Bonnie thinks. It’s not a new realization, just one with a new flavor. A selfish, bad person . She almost bursts into tears, except too many people are counting on her.  

 

“I’m not going either,” Tara says. “Angie’s my friend. I’m waiting.” Donavan nods. Bonnie wonders if anyone would do the same for her. Probably not. 

 

In the driveway, the sound of a chainsaw revving drowns out the distant fighting. Max, still holding the child, grimaces. “I can’t- this kid needs to be okay,” he says, and maybe he’s trying to justify it to himself, because he hunches his shoulders and curls inwards. 

 

When the hell did he start caring about Angie? Bonnie puzzles. It turns into shock when Donavan reaches over and pats him on the back. 

 

“It’s the right choice,” Donavan says. Max looks at Donavan, really looks at him. Donavan gives him a nod that loosens the tension in Max’s back. With one hand, he picks up his pack and hikes it over his shoulder. The other cradles the boy, who is now staring at the group with giant, wet eyes. The ones who stay watch Max walk out towards the cars, hoping that they made the right choice too.

 

---

 

She jams her good hand underneath half of the boulder. Ange’s bicep bulges and strains as she lifts the rock up to deltoid level. A single, huge step, a single, powerful heave sends her projectile shooting forward like a bullet. By inches, it slings past the creature’s head. 

 

A laugh cuts off before it can even begin when the boulder smashes into an old growth tree, edge first. It splinters. High pitched screeching fills the air as the weight of two centuries shifts under itself. Then it starts to fall.

 

An impact. The ground shakes like a stomp of a giant’s foot. The monster skids to a halt. The trunk brushes the fur of its chest on the way down and that thing turns around just in time to see the cleaved second half of the boulder streaking towards it. It lands true, dead center on its chest with such force, its back hits the trunk. Like the sound of granite sliding on granite, the creature lets out a long wheeze from its giant lungs. The boulder falls to the soil floor.

 

It's dazed long enough for her to reach it. With the momentum of a full sprint, Ange jumps, crushes her foot on top of the half boulder, and drives her fist upwards into its chin. The snap of the back of its head smacking wood - and something else. 

 

Mid air, Ange grins madly, opens her fist and snatches it before it can drop. She comes to a steady landing on top of the fallen trunk. With the beast’s head still laying against the log, they make eye contact. Ange extends her arm above it and lets go. A huge, flat, bloody tooth falls straight down and bounces off its forehead. 

 

Returning items to their owners. Ange mentally pats herself on the back for completing her good deed for the day. Then she lifts her foot and slams it downwards. 

 

It doesn't make contact. The beast pushes with its legs, jolting the felled tree, and her, from their resting place. 

 

“Oh crud,” Ange yelps, pinwheeling only one arm so she doesn't fall over. It’s not fast enough. Almost instantly, there’s massive, crushing gripping on her leg, and absolutely no time for the gravity of her situation to sink in. The creature jumps high. It twists midair like as a fulcrum, swinging its arm like the lever. 

 

Ange flies, then smashes into a tree, then another, and a third, and keeps going. One of her ribs fractures at her back. Ange has enough time to grit her teeth and prepare for the hurt as she collides into a white gravel driveway. Her body slides half the length, spraying pebbles and dirt everywhere. 

 

Pain. Her broken arm goes red hot, her back throbs, her entire body feels like one giant bruise. It’s only the startled shouts of her peers that keeps her mobile. They haven’t left yet, so she needs to keep going. She promised to protect them. 

 

Ange presses her hand into the dirt and flips back onto her feet. Blue eyes stare at the forest. She uses her peripherals to examine everything else. The cars are idling, exhaust clouding behind them. The tree blocking the driveway is steadily being chopped at. A group of boys have turned to stare at her. Ange waves her good hand at them. 

 

“Don't stop!” she yells, crouching. The sound of rhythmic crashing gets closer. “It's coming back!” Brick revs the chainsaw back on. The noise means she can’t hear when the footsteps stop. She does see the canopy of a tree shake, then the unnatural silhouette of the monster arcing through space directly at her. Her eyes widen. She kicks her legs, flipping backwards just in time. 

 

With two fists, the beast smashes the ground. A crater the size of a car gapes into existence. Ange holds her arm out straight at it as she lands on her feet. They share bared teeth. There’s a dark gap in its mouth, and the ooze of blood down the creature’s mouth and chin purrs ruthless satisfaction through her chest. 

 

A furred arm twitches, blue eyes narrow. The thing and Ange rush towards one another at the exact same time.

 

---

 

Brutality. The dictionary defines it as savage physical violence done with great cruelty. It’s one thing to read it, and another to see it. A dark purple and black bruise paints Ange’s entire back. The only reason Bonnie can see that is because her arm is in a sling made from her own t-shirt. Scratches draw red lines all over beautiful skin. Despite the pain, Ange keeps moving.

 

The boys are almost done with the tree. It’s not as simple as cutting two vertical lines on either end, something they learned the hard way. The length and weight of the wood can pinch on the flat of the blade, jamming it. They had to experiment a bit before finding the right technique, which is sawing off little sections, half way through the log as control joints. The process slowed them down far longer than anyone liked. 

 

By the time they finish making the final cut, but before they can remove the log from the road, Ange loses.

 

The two opponents clash like a thunderclap. Fists blur in Bonnie’s vision. She’s never seen motion like this. It’s uncanny movement from inhuman strength. Ange rotates a leg, smashing her shin into the space where its neck and shoulder meet. The thing jerks to the ground at lightspeed. Gravel jumps upwards. It gets up with barely a pained grunt and barrels at her with such speed, Bonnie’s eyes can barely keep up. An arm sweeps at her feet. Ange jumps over it. The thing keeps moving forwards. Ange jams her arm out, palming its giant face, and the second, long arm punches her into the ground hard enough to make her bounce. 

 

Dread fills every single part of Bonnie’s body. Tara gasps beside her. From the mansion, Bonnie wills Angie to get back onto her feet. It works, it actually works. Ange presses her good hand into the ground, gets her feet underneath her. She makes it half way before the monster takes its hand to her back and smashes her down. 

 

“No,” Bonnie whispers. The thing reaches its arm towards the sky. It’s so elongated, it’s taller than any human could be. Ange manages to roll onto her back. The hand descends, and Ange raises her arm to meet it. It sends a small shockwave through her body, but she stops it with gritted teeth. Just as hope starts to spark, the monster grips Ange’s entire arm and squeezes down hard. It takes only one second, but they can see the solid grip jolt suddenly tighter. Ange lets out a smothered keen, as if trying to keep silent. When it lets go of her, her arm falls uselessly to the ground. 

 

Tara flinches. Riley lets out a yell. The creature raises its arm, smiling, and Bonnie’s body makes a decision for her. She’s not fast like that thing. She’s not even fast like Max. She’s only made it off the porch when the arm swings down. Ange - moronic, clever Angie - lifts her legs towards the sky and absorbs the blow with her feet. 

 

It bats them to the side like a stack of cards and bashes its other fist into her exposed torso. The whine that crawls out from Ange’s throat is that of a dying animal. Half way now. The creature pulls its fist back. Bonnie forces her legs to move faster. 

 

Boom

 

It feels like running through a dream. Not fast enough, she’s not fast enough. The creature raises its arms. She’s not fast enough.

 

Boom

 

Bonnie leaves a path of tears on the gravel. Ange, that thing, everything, goes blurry. She blinks them back. It doesn’t work.

 

The creature raises its arms. Rage, fear, sorrow, all of it bubbles up through her throat. Bonnie screams. 

 

A huge head, beady eyes, smiling lips, swivels towards her. She braces her feet into the ground, the gravel crumbles around her white shoes, staining them with dust. She almost skids right into it, which is kind of perfect. Bonnie presses the hilt of the lightsaber up underneath its stupid, ugly chin. The beast’s torso starts to shake with laughter. It gets one stupid, awful ”Ooh,” before Bonnie toggles the switch.

 

Ange was right. It cuts through anything with no resistance. Like a hot knife sliding through warm butter, an electric green, powerful laser spears straight up the top of its head. Cooked blood sprays into the air. Bonnie can see a glowing green from behind those horrible eyes. She watches it start to realize what she just did, and she refuses to give it anything else. Rage, fear, sorrow. Bonnie screams.

 

She rips her arms to the side. Half of its face severs from the back part of its skull. The saber lets out a beautiful, song-like hum. The scent of death fills the air and it smells like burning meat. The beast heaps to the ground, landing on Ange’s chest hard enough that she lets out a, “woof!” 

 

Numb, Bonnie falls to her knees beside her Angie. She turns the saber off. Green fades to nothing. 

 

“Angie?” Bonnie says, voice shaking. Blue eyes blink weakly at the sky. Bonnie sniffles. Ange looks a mess. Her free arm is mangled. The other has a bend half way through the forearm that Bonnie can see through the sling. 

 

“-ll be fine,” Ange coughs out. Bonnie doesn’t believe her for a second. “Don’ worry.” 

 

There’s the sound of footsteps approaching. Many of them. People coming to help. Ange’s head lolls around until she can see Bonnie. 

 

“Bon-ngh-nie?” Somehow, through all of the pain, through the violence and sadistic cruelty, Ange manages to smile. “Tha’ w-s… owiiie- was sup’r hot.”

 

It’s a whiplash. Misery clashes against flustered heat. The survivor that marches out the other side is surreal confusion. Bonnie’s mouth drops wide open. Her cheeks go red like a cherry. Bonnie stares at Ange. She watches Ange’s eyebrows draw together with concentration.

 

“Wai’... meant ‘o say..” Ange grimaces, “Thanks.. Go’ ‘em mix’d ‘n my head.” Then, like it’s the most normal thing in the world, Ange lets her head rest back against the gravel, closes her eyes, and starts snoring, leaving Bonnie with only one thought in her head as the others finally make it to them.

 

“She’s not dead, is she?!” Someone yells. It sounds like Riley’s voice.

 

“Holy shit, her arms are fucked up,” Keon’s voice says. 

 

Bonnie sees the Maddog purple of Brick’s tennis shoes. “I could use a nap too…” he mumbles.

 

What the hell does that mean?! Bonnie thinks, ignoring all of them. A hand rests on her shoulder. Numbly, Bonnie looks up into Tara’s worried eyes. Ange snores some more, which seems to make Tara blink in confusion. Bonnie can relate. 

 

“Is she okay?” Tara asks tentatively. 

 

“She said I was hot?” Bonnie replies. Tara’s face morphs into a relieved smile, which is even more confusing.

 

“Oh, good.” Tara gets down onto her knees and pulls Bonnie into a warm hug. Automatically, Bonnie’s shaking arms encircle her. “She’s totally fine,” Tara reassures her. Ange keeps snoring. A beat of silence. “Probably.”

 

Chapter 84: Chapter 82

Notes:

Im preparing for a friends wedding so chappys might come out a lil late

It takes six of them to lift the monster off of Angie. With the danger no longer present, some of the people get out of their cars to watch. Its giant body gets pushed with strained huffing. When they manage to eventually roll it, it flops over with a heavy thud that can be heard from the other end of the driveway. Ange’s exposed body is awful, but the only thing Bonnie can do is stare at her face until Tara tugs her to her feet. 

 

“Hospital, please,” Tara says, wiping tears off of Bonnie’s face. She’s always had the best ideas. 

 

“I got her,” Riley says. He picks Ange up like a princess, letting out a big grunt. With a determined expression on his face, he carries her all the way to his truck. Half the football team finish off the task of clearing the road. Finally. Bonnie slides into one side, cradling Ange’s head on her lap. She indulges herself enough to let her fingers slide through Ange’s sweat slick hair. Tara slides into the other, letting Ange’s legs rest on hers. It makes the girl frown.

 

“She weighs a million pounds,” Tara says. Her hands reach out and trace some of the exposed skin on Ange’s leg. Her pants are torn and dirty. There’s a gash on her knee that is thankfully no longer oozing. 

 

“That’s what I thought!” Riley says from the front seat. Brick and Donavan pile in. The truck rumbles on and it is one of the most relieving, comforting feelings in the world. 

 

“Don’t talk about her like that,” Bonnie snaps. Tara nods along. 

 

“Riley, that’s really mean,” Tara says, scolding the boy as he peels out of the driveway. He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but he does let out little sputtering noises.

 

“You just said it-” Donavan reaches over and touches Riley’s arm. 

 

“Best not to comment on a woman's physical form,” Donavan says, as wise as a mountain sage. “Unless it’s to compliment.”

 

“Damn, Donavan,” Brick says, whooping. “I didn’t know you had game!” From the backseat, Bonnie can see the back of Donavan’s neck go red.

 

Maybe they shouldn’t be laughing and joking at a time like this. Ange is snoring on her lap, but there’s a worrying wheeze that’s obligato with each breath. Bonnie gently brushes some of the bangs away from Ange’s forehead. There’s a giant bruise forming on one side of her face. Her lip is split and swollen. Bonnie thinks about how she almost died. They almost died. Like, all of them - and the only reason they didn’t is because Ange broke herself for them (Thank god the only death was an actual, honest to god, bigfoot. Then Bonnie thinks about that little boy Max had carried to Carson’s car and corrects herself. No one she knew died.). 

 

“I- ah, I didn’t know I had game either,” Donavan says with a mumble. There’s a long moment of silence. Riley, driving twenty over the speed limit, but a cautious twenty, snorts. 

 

The floodgates open. Riley’s snort turns into a chuckle. Bonnie bites her lip. Tara smothers a laugh with her hand. Brick lets his boom out, which dissolves the others into cackles. Even Donavan’s lip twitches, then his head drops forward and his shoulders shake. The entire car peals.

 

Maybe they shouldn’t be laughing or joking right now. But they just killed an honest to god Bigfoot. 

 

They fucking deserve it.

 

---

 

Kim arrives with way too much drama and super late. Which is super typical of her. She bursts through the door, wild eyed and panting. Only so many people are allowed to visit Ange at once, so it’s only Bonnie who has the privilege of jumping out of her seat. 

 

“Fuck!” Bonnie yelps, clutching at her racing heart. “K, take a chill pill, OMG.” It took three hours for Kim to get there. Bonnie definitely judges, even if this hospital isn’t the closest to the Possible residence. Riley had ferried them to the closest one they could find as fast as he could.

 

“Language,” Kim says automatically. Then she shakes her head in offense. “My sister is in the hospital, B. You do not get to tell me to chill.” 

 

“It’s for some broken bones, she’s not going to die.” Thank god she’s not going to die. 

 

Curiously, Kim also seems to have a cast on her arm. She’s not going to get any sympathy from Bonnie. Not when her favorite Possible is still laying asleep on the hospital bed, both arms in casts and an IV drip attached to a vein in her foot. Bonnie sees Kim look at her sister. The expression that forms on Kim’s face actually makes her throat go dry with fear.

 

“Who did this?” Kim hisses out. There is so much venom and danger laced into it Bonnie is tempted to grab the hilt of the lightsaber at her hip and toggle the switch. 

 

“A giant furby,” Bonnie says as dryly as she can. Kim whirls at her, snarling. Bonnie disguises her flinch by holding her hands up. “A huge sasquatch decided to crash our party.” It was a really good party.

 

“Don’t play games with me, Bonnie,” Kim says. The way she steps farther into the room reminds Bonnie of a tiger stalking up on its unsuspecting prey. All graceful, fluid movement. It’s beautiful. Bonnie remembers the way that beast towered over her, meeting its eyes with her own. Somehow, with a broken arm, Kim is still scarier. That really pisses her off.

 

“I wish I was playing a game,” Bonnie says, sniffing haughtily. She folds one leg over the other, sitting the way she saw Amelia do that one time. “Bigfoot literally came out of the woods and tried to kill us!” She looks over at Ange, eyes closed and bruised everywhere. Both arms are in a cast. One of them has bloody bandages underneath that will need changing soon. Apparently they had to open her entire arm up and screw her bones back together. If Kim wasn’t right in front of her, Bonnie would let herself cry about it. Instead, she reaches over and touches the tips of Ange’s fingers. 

 

“Angie saved our lives.” Her voice cracks, and she hates herself for it. She doesn’t see how Kim’s eyes widen, trained on their touching hands. “She saved us..” 

 

“You did too, Bonnie,” A voice says from the doorway. She looks up to see Tara walking in with a plastic bag with the Quickly Panda’s logo on it. It’s absolutely bursting with takeout. She gives Kim a smile that makes Bonnie want to throw a punch at Kim’s pretty mouth. Maybe it’ll land now that Kim has a broken arm? Bonnie narrows her eyes at Kim. Probably not. “So don’t sell yourself short.” 

 

“It was nothing,” Bonnie mutters. Tara walks over to her, sits down and nuzzles their shoulders together. “Ange did the work.”

 

“Bigfoot is real?” Kim asks. Instead of answering, Tara asks another question.

 

“Are you alright, Kim?” Carefully, she starts to unpack the food. Bonnie’s stomach grumbles. She hasn’t eaten for more than half a day. “Who managed to do that to you?”

 

“A himpalo.”

 

“I-what?” 

 

Kim smiles wryly, circling around to Ange’s other side, “Some awful thing DNAmy made. You don’t want to know.” With tender care, she brushes the back of her fingernails through Ange’s scalp. Bonnie doesn’t like it, but Tara places a box of grilled teriyaki chicken in one hand and some chopsticks in another. Kim is spared from being bitten. Still, Bonnie can’t help throwing one barb out. 

 

“I guess you’ll have to take a leave of absence from cheer,” Bonnie says, smirking only because it’s a habit. Poking at Kim has always been relaxing. It succeeds one more time. “No offense, but I don’t trust you with my girls when you’ve got that going on.” She’s rewarded with a dirty look from Kim. Bonnie places a piece of chicken on her tongue and it tastes divine.

 

“Whatever, Bonnie. Can we focus on what’s important here? Like, what the heck happened to bigfoot?”

 

Bonnie stops mid chew. Suddenly, she’s not so hungry anymore. She sets her takeout down on the standing table next to Ange’s bed. Tara stops unpacking the next box to slide her arm around Bonnie’s waist. It makes her feel a little better.

 

“It’s dead,” Tara says lightly. The look she gives Kim is enough to stay Kim’s questions (for now, probably. Kim’s such a nosy person, it makes Bonnie sick). Tara gestures towards the takeout box. “Can you help me open that? My hand is occupied.” 

 

Green eyes go from Tara, to Bonnie, then to the arm around Bonnie’s waist. Kim lifts a single, assessing eyebrow. Bonnie narrows her own eyes at Kim, willing down the blush that threatens to tinge her cheeks. Let her come to her own conclusions. Bonnie isn’t about to confirm or deny them. Without a word, Kim reaches over and unpacks a giant box of Quickly Panda orange chicken. 

 

“Can I have some?” Kim asks. Her stomach grumbles too. 

 

“Maybe?” Tara holds her hand out. Kim places it on her palm. “It depends on if this works.”

 

“If what works?” Kim tilts her head. Bonnie looks at her curiously. To answer the question, Tara hovers the box of orange chicken underneath Ange’s nose. 

 

“.... I don’t think that’s how it works,” Kim says after a long moment. It takes Bonnie just as long to process it too. Her lip twitches, but she makes sure to hide anything further. To be fair, it does look like Ange’s eyelids flicker a bit. That’s the only movement they get from her. 

 

“At least she’s trying, K.”

 

Tara just smiles sheepishly. “Dang, I was hoping I was onto something.” She passes the meal back to Kim, who takes it with a wiggle. “Can I sign your cast?” 

 

“Oh.” Kim’s expression is pleased. “I’ll bring a sharpie to school on Monday for you.”

 

“Spankin’.” Tara says with an adorable giggle. Bonnie manages to narrow her eyes. Traitor. Unfortunately, Tara seems to be immune to the daggers Bonnie can spontaneously materialize with her eyes. 

 

The three of them sit for a long while. Kim doesn’t ask them any more questions about the weekend party. It’s the one good thing she’s done, ever. Maybe. If Bonnie has to think about backlit green, beady eyes one more time, she might be sick on them. Better to focus on simpler things, like school, and gossip, and clothes.

 

They work through their meals slowly. Not feeling talkative, Bonnie is content to let Tara carry the conversation. Her arm never leaves Bonnie’s waist. 

 

Why does it make her feel so safe?

 

Empty cartons are just tossed into the trash can when Ange finally stirs. Elation, pity, fondness are all things Bonnie feels when Ange lets out a most pitiful groan. “Ouchie. Oof. Owie,” is the first thing she says, which means she’s okay, right? 

 

Blinding relief makes Bonnie lean back into her chair. Tara snorts out her amusement. Bonnie watches big, wet puppy eyes scan the room. A dopey grin splits across Ange’s face.

 

“Hi, girls,” Angie says, lolling her head from Bonnie and Tara to Kim. Her smile falls off her face like an anchor through water. She tries to sit up, and it’s a struggle, especially when Kim reaches over and pushes down on her shoulder. “Who hurt you?” Ange growls like an animal. “Who did it?”

 

“A himpalo.” Kim says. She starts frowning. Bonnie watches her arm tense, then start to give as Ange continues her journey of sitting up. Impulsively, Bonnie holds her hand out and places it on Ange’s other shoulder. Immediately, Ange stills underneath her touch. Something pleasant takes Bonnie’s breath away. 

 

“A wha?” Ange says intelligently. Kim’s eyes linger on Bonnie’s hand.

 

“Something DNAmy made. I’ll tell you about it later, but I’m fine.”

 

“Oh,” Ange says intelligently. She lets her head fall back onto the pillow. The dangerous predator melts away into an adorable puppy. “Good.” Slow, sleepy blinks. “-m so hungry.” 

 

“Kim ate your orange chicken,” Bonnie says. Kim gasps in offense. Ange also gasps in offense, but it has an entirely different flavor, and it’s definitely not an orange chicken flavor. The betrayal in Ange’s watery eyes as she stares accusingly at Kim would have made a lesser man cry. 

 

“You were knocked out!” Kim says, raising a defensive hand. “It would have gotten cold!” 

 

Ange opens her mouth and makes her point. “Orange chicken!” Then she juts her head away from Kim, refusing to look at her. Very compelling. Kim starts to splutter out her defense, but it’s just mouth noises. Tara presses her face against Bonnie’s shoulder and starts laughing.

 

There’s a warm and slender arm wrapped around her waist. It belongs to one of her favorite people. Ange is awake, giving Kim the coldest shoulder she can probably manage. Bonnie presses her face to the top of Tara’s head and starts laughing too. 

 

She finally feels human again.

Chapter 85: Chapter 83

Sergeant Rourke watches as his people wheel the unconscious creature into its new home. A twenty by twenty, solid steel box. Cameras on every corner, only exit in or out, capable of carrying an electric current strong enough to kill a blue whale. They wouldn’t make the same mistake as last time. It would never escape again, he was personally going to ensure it. 

 

The reports called it a himpalo. Kim Possible was the one who captured it. He can’t figure out how the hell she’d managed to survive it, but if anyone could do anything it would be her.

 

“Sergeant,” Reyes says from beside him. “The other one has been located.”

 

“Thank the lord almighty.” Rourke turns to her, fists clenched. “Send in every soldier on that thing. We need to bring it in-”

 

“It’s dead.”

 

Shock makes him pause. She sees the question in his eyes, because she elaborates. It’s one of the many reasons he appreciates her so. “Police found it at the Falcon residence on the citizen side of the mountain. Our people are performing an autopsy for the cause of death as we speak, but it was an obvious cranial injury.” 

 

“Alright…” Rourke purses his lips. It makes sense. The head is its only weak spot, if they could even call it a weak spot. He’s pretty sure a himpalo could take a boltgun to the face and survive. 

 

“But, there’s something else.” 

 

“Isn’t there always with these things?” That gets a wry grin out of his second. It’s serious only a moment later.

 

“It had broken bones, Rourke.” 

 

Rourke is a level-headed man. Open expressions of surprise are unheard of. He’s been through so many fire fights, death doesn’t scare him. A bullet once grazed his cheek and he didn’t so much as flinch. This gets his jaw to drop open.

 

“A finger, toe, and it’s missing a tooth.” Reyes continues to skim the report. “The.. There appears to be evidence of a fight, Rourke.” 

 

“That’s impossible.” 

 

Reyes shakes her head, then pulls a picture from the back of the report. A crater the size of a small car, disturbed gravel, in the corner is the edge of a huge dragging mark. There’s a tree snapped at the bottom of the trunk. Another has clearly been worked on with a chainsaw.

 

“What the hell could go toe to toe with that?”

 

“We’re not sure. The police told us the house was hosting a party for a group of teenagers that go to Middleton High. Apparently, their football team is on a winning streak.” Not bad. As a hot blooded American, Rourke loved a good football game. 

 

“How many casualties?” 

 

“Three from the surrounding area, and many people seem to be missing. Whatever fought that thing must have killed it before it could continue, because there’s none from the party.”

 

“Huh,” Sergeant Rourke lets out a grunt, then falls deep into thought. “Keep it under wraps. Find me what’s responsible for killing that… Sasquatch.” He’s not calling a killing machine a Himpalo. He turns towards the heavy steel door just in time to watch it close with a bang that echoes through the base. “I want to know everything about it. Everything.”

 

---

 

“Hi Ange!” someone says. Ange gives them a smile and awkwardly waves with her cast. 

 

“Hi there.” She doesn’t know who the person is, but they seem friendly. That’s probably a good sign. It’s Tuesday and Ange is (finally, finally ) cleared to go to school. 

 

It’s great news. Not only is school the best place in the world maybe, but she really wants to see Riley’s game after. With both arms broken, she has to walk there, which is inconvenient. Not as inconvenient as figuring out how to get dressed, or how to- Let’s not dwell right before class.

 

Her cutest and bestest sister in the world opens the door for her. Ange drops a smooch right on her adorable cheek and skips all the way to her locker. Three of her favorite people are there, and Brick. He’s leaning on the metal wall, talking to Donavan about something. Bonnie is letting Tara lean on her shoulder, and it’s kind of nice to look at, except it makes Ange want to chew glass. 

 

“Hi guys,” Ange says, adopting her cheeriest tone. She doesn’t have a right to be jealous. 

 

“Angie!” the entire group choruses. Ange blinks, then shares a glance with Bonnie, who smirks at her. Welcome to the club, Bonnie’s turquoise eyes say. Ange lets herself be amused.

 

“Are you all ready to learn?” Her arms are bent at ninety degree angles. It’s a little silly thrusting one of them into the air, but it’s best to keep things a little silly.

 

“That sounds awful,” Bonnie says. 

 

“I don’t want to,” Tara pouts.

 

“Awe man, I have a quiz in history,” Brick hangs his head.

 

“I love to learn,” Donavan says. That’s why he’s her favorite boy. 

 

“Hi Ange!” Someone says. Ange blinks in surprise. She manages to give them a smile before they walk by her, but she can’t remember when they met. 

 

“Thank you, Donavan,” Ange says, forcing her train back on track. “Learning is important, and a thorough education is an excellent set up for future success.”

 

“Okay, nerd,” Bonnie says, rolling her eyes. “Wanna know what else is better than education?” 

 

“Nothing is better than education-”

“Networking,” Bonnie says as she places a hand onto Ange’s mouth. It does shut her up. Bonnie always smells nice, today is no different. Floral perfume, with the slightest undertone of spice. “I can get into any room I want because I know peopl- EW!” Ange gives her a smirk, tongue poking out of her mouth. Bonnie flinches her arm away, then reaches back over and starts wiping her palm on Ange’s shirt. “You’re an animal, Angie. Feral.”

 

“Woof.”

 

Tara starts snickering. 

 

“Hey Ange,” someone says. Ange swivels her head around and catches sight of one of the people from the party. 

 

“Hi!” They exchange smiles as the person continues walking. Ange watches them go.

 

“Wow, does anyone else think that something weird’s going on?”

 

Donavan adjusts his glasses. “They’re th-”

 

“Nothing’s weird,” Bonnie says quickly. She walks over and starts nudging Ange into motion. It kind of hurts on her broken ribs (apparently, she has two of them). She can’t bring herself to mind it, and allows one of her favorite girls to move her. “Come on, let’s go to class.”

 

Ange looks at a clock on the wall in confusion. Never has Bonnie wanted to get to class so early. There’s an entire nine minutes left! 

 

“What about your things?” Ange says. Bonnie clicks her tongue.

 

“Already have ‘em. Stop worrying about me for once.”

 

“I don’t think I can.” Because Bonnie is pushing Ange from the back (her hands are adorably small. They feel nice there), Ange doesn’t see the way Bonnie’s cheeks go red, or the way her eyes go wide. All she sees is a bunch of students parting around her like Moses through the Red Sea. Many of them give her smiles or waves, and Ange starts nodding her head at them. This must be what being the Queen of England feels like. If she had her hands, she’d do that fancy wave for them.

 

Behind her, the smirk Tara gives Bonnie makes Bonnie narrow her eyes. “Just get to English,” Bonnie says, tone venomous. Ange gets to English. 

 

The room erupts into chaos the moment she walks in the door. Streamers hang from the ceiling, the snap of confetti poppers sends glitter all over the air, cheers are loud enough to rattle the walls. There’s a cake, juice, and bags of chips everywhere. “Ange!” the entire school yells, at least it feels that way. Ange jumps so high, the top of her head hits the ceiling. 

 

“Owie,” Ange mumbles as she lands with a slight bend of the knee. 

 

“Fuck yeah!” someone yells. It's Keon. “Power jump!”

 

“What's going on?” Ange asks, glancing behind her. Bonnie grins the smug grin of an organizer. 

 

“You saved our asses, Angie.” Reaching up, Bonnie brushes some confetti off her bangs. “So, like, let us celebrate you for a bit.” Warmth. Beautiful and lovely warmth. Like an opened bottle of soda, it bubbles up all around her. Ange knows her eyes go soft. She knows they do because Bonnie's smile becomes warm and real.

 

“Thank me later,” Bonnie says. Something both magical and heartbreaking happens. Bonnie steps onto her tip toes and presses her lips to Ange's cheek. Ange feels her entire face go red. Eyes pop out of her head and roll onto the floor. Bonnie steps past her like she didn't just rip Ange's heart out from her ribcage and stomp all over it. Her only solace is when Tara steps up to her other side and kisses her other cheek.

 

“I'll thank you now,” Tara whispers warmly. Ange swallows down her dry throat. “You're my hero, Angie.” 

 

“Cool,” Angie croaks. “Coolcoolcoolcool.” She hears Tara's amused snort. Ange purses her lips, ears red. Tara follows Bonnie into the classroom. Donavan, a man of few words, pats her on the shoulder. 

 

“I owe you my life, Angelus.” It's all he needs to say. Tears start forming in the corner of her eyes. Ange blinks quickly, then sniffles.

 

“Anytime, Donavan. It’s no big.” Donavan smiles a real smile.

 

“Thanks for being a super powered badass, Ange,” Brick says, ushering them all farther inside. “It would have sucked if I couldn't play football anymore. Or if that bigfoot killed us.” Shouldn’t that be in the other order? 

 

“Yeah, I get it.” Fortunately, Ange sounds normal. She gives him a smile, making sure it isn't fake. “I'm glad you're okay too.” Brick’s grin could light up the sky. He meanders away towards the football boys, content to skip his own class.

 

Max Falcon takes his place in front of her. He’s the only one with a serious expression on his face. Ange eyes him cautiously.

 

“I’m sorry,” he says. Maybe it’s the first time he’s said those words, because they sound foreign on his tongue. “I-I’m really sorry about how I treated you. I’ve been a huge dickbag.” 

 

“Yeah,” Ange replies, sounding amused. Max’s lip twitches once. He scratches at the back of his head. 

 

“I won’t do it again.” That finally makes her nod. She offers him a smile. Handsome, taller than her, with blonde hair that falls over his eyes just so, Max starts to smile back. “I think you’re pretty cool, Ange. Uh, I hope you can forgive me sometime. If you want, I mean.”

 

“Promise not to talk to other people like that?”

 

“Huh?” His blue eyes blink owlishly at her. “Oh, no- yeah, I mean- I wasn’t… I won’t.” 

 

“Good boy.” The tips of his ears go red. Ange eyes them, biting the inside of her cheek. Oops. Hopefully he didn’t get a crush on her. “I forgive you.” Max nods - it’s a shy movement. Definitely oops. He wanders back to his seat with his hands shoved in his pockets. Some of the girls surrounding his desk eye her carefully.

 

Ange gives them a pleasant, unreadable smile before Bonnie finally returns with a plate full of treats. “Eat up, dork.”

 

“Oh, thanks Bonnie!” Ange grips the plate with her fingertips, then stares down at it. Bonnie looks at Ange, then down at her casted arms, then back up at Ange’s face. Amusement makes Bonnie grin.

 

“How’d you even get dressed today?”

 

“Kim helped. But, uhm, I’m trying to figure out how to build a third arm with my feet.”

 

“...Ange, you’re such a weirdo.”

 

Ange’s eyes squint with affection. “Quack.” Bonnie rolls hers, but Ange knows she’s amused. She’s smiling, and it’s very pretty.

 

The entire classroom is chattering with each other. Even the teacher seems to have abandoned restoring order and is currently reading a book in the corner. Ange sees more than one student who doesn't belong to the class here. Almost everyone from the party is crammed inside. More than one person walks up to thank her personally. Bonnie and Tara take turns feeding her bites of cake (after a staring session. Ange has no idea how they came to this consensus, but she can't bring herself to complain about it.) 

 

Ange looks around at all the people around her. They’re happy, smiling, laughing. It fills the entire room. She thinks about the words her mama told her when she was a child. The ones about luck and Kostrama blood. 

 

She got good luck, Ange decides. She chomps down on another forkful of cake. It's sweet and dense and melts in her mouth. People start asking to sign her casts. Lots of them, which is fortunate. She has a lot of cast to sign. She has really lucky blood.

 

She must be the luckiest Kostrama to have ever been born. 

 

---

 

“Oh no!” Ange says half way through the party. The girls startle.

 

“What? What is it?” Tara says, worried. Ange looks at them, feeling like she’s about to cry. 

 

“I can’t go dancing with you this weekend!” She was really looking forward to that. Bonnie blinks up at her, then frowns.

 

“Fuck,” Bonnie says. Ange opens her mouth. Bonnie jabs her fingernail into Ange’s side over and over until Ange starts giggling. It tickles! “I was going to make you wear something so slutty.” 

 

“Wha- hey- hehe! Bonnie! Have mercy on me.” Bonnie stops poking her, head tilted to regard Ange. Ange gives her a goofy grin. “I guess it’s kind of a good thing we can’t go dancing this weekend then.”

 

Bonnie reaches over and starts poking her again.

Chapter 86: Chapter 84

The door smashes completely off its hinges, then skids inwards with hollow metal clangs, to ultimately end up crumpling along the opposite wall.

 

“Shifu!” Ange runs into the warehouse. Navigating the world is awful. It was awful, until Ange remembered she could kick the ass off the donkey. Now, the biggest obstacle she’d faced since getting two casts, besides getting two casts (and dressing, and showering, and eating, and hygiene necessities, and, uhm… carnal des- let’s stop thinking about this!), the dreaded door to her Shifu’s home, is defeated and broken. Her Shifu can fix it. Probably. “Shifu! Are you here?”

 

“Quiet down!” Shifu says from the top floor. She’s speaking in the rasp of waking up, and Ange can see some messy hair at the top of her head. Fascinating! Ange didn’t think she even slept. Curiously, there also seems to be a rat on the top of Shifu’s head as well. It perks up when they make eye contact, then waves?

 

“Shifu, are you ratatouille?” Ange says.

 

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

 

“Is the rat controlling you like a giant mecha? Oh, I should build a giant mecha. I can’t do a lot right now so I’ve been getting into this thing called ‘anime’ and they often use giant robots to kick the snot out of other giant robots, or giant monsters, or helpless regular people-”

 

“Quiet down,” Shifu says, reaching up and plucking the rat from her head. She places it on the inside of her hat (which strengthens her ratatouille theory) and her hat on the floor where it promptly curls up and starts to snore. “What the hell is ratatouille?” Shifu hops to her feet, then steps forward and falls off the second floor balcony. She lands on the warehouse proper without a sound, or even a bend of the knee. 

 

“Oh! It’s a french dish full of vegetables. It’s also a movie about a chef that can’t actually cook, so he gets a rat to control him because the rat can cook, and together, they become the best chefs in a restaurant in france-”

 

“What the hell movies do you watch, disciple?”

 

“It’s a good movie, Shifu.” Ange purses her lips at the judgment. “Also, you should watch your language- Heek!” A knife buries itself against the warehouse wall with a satisfying (scary) thunk. Ange gets up from her crouch and pouts. “That’s really not nice!”

 

“Uh huh,” Shifu says. It doesn’t sound like she cares, but she does eye Ange up and down carefully. A boney finger on a boney hand finally lifts and gestures to all of her. “Did you break both of your arms?”

 

Ange nods. “That’s why I came here. To tell you that-” Shifu raises a hand to silence her. Ange silences. They stare at each other for a long, long minute. They stare at each other for so long that Ange starts to kick at the ground with her toe. Then-

 

“Pff…” Shifu bites her lip. It doesn’t work. “Pfffhaha..” Ange feels her eyelids fall half way down her eyes. “Hahahahahah!” Her Shifu places both hands onto both knees, then removes one to point at Ange. “HAHAHAHAHAAHAHA!” 

 

“It’s not that funny!” Ange says. 

 

“HAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA!” Shifu says.

 

“Shifu, I came to tell you that I can’t practice until I’m healed!” 

 

“WAHAHAHAHAHAHAHEHEEHEHEHHOHOHOHOO!” Shifu says. Then she inhales too quickly, and starts letting out a series of wet, pathetic coughs that hunch her over at the hip. Any other day and Ange would have gone over to pat Shifu on the back. Today, she just watches as her Shifu cough, cough, coughs, tears streaming down her face. Even if she wanted to, she couldn’t comfort her Shifu. Both of her arms are broken.

 

“Ough, owie.” Shifu says. She wipes her eyes, which have tears streaming down them. Then she wipes her mouth. “Oh, wow,” Shifu pants out, looking more satisfied than Ange has ever seen her before. “Thanks, kid, I needed that.”

 

“Happy to be of service,” Ange grinds out. They regard each other. Shifu’s lips start to twitch. Unbelievable. 

 

“Pff…” 

 

“I should go,” Ange says.

 

“Pffahahah,” Shifu says. Ange turns around and walks out of the dusty old warehouse using a doorless doorway. “Hahahahaha!” The sound of her shifu’s laughter echoes against the walls, following her outside. Ange turns around to stick her tongue out the building, and her only reply is, “HAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAH!”

 

At least someone was having fun with this.

 

---

 

“What are we?”

 

Bonnie goes tense. She turns around in her rolling chair to look at Tara, laying comfortably on her bed. The remnants of their homework lay scattered around her. The house is quiet - a luxury she relishes while she can. Tara is looking at her with unreadable eyes. 

 

No, there’s something behind them. Anxiety? Readiness? Bonnie bites her lip and stares back at her desk. She hadn’t prepared herself for this question, which is silly because she’s had all fucking day to figure it out. 

 

“What do you want us to be?” Bonnie ends up asking. She hates herself for stalling like a coward. 

 

Behind her, she hears the sound of Tara sitting up, then standing up, then walking towards her. Every step tenses Bonnie’s shoulders. Her eyes bore holes into her homework when Tara sits in the seat beside her. 

 

“Bonnie?” Out of the corner of her eyes, Bonnie sees Tara’s face. Fair skin, a nose that curved outwards at the tip, just enough to be cute, furrowed together eyebrows, and a pair of lips bent with worry. “Do you like me?” 

 

Red like an apple, Bonnie twitches, cheeks warm. Her tongue is lead in her mouth. Both of her hands are clutching her armrests like they’re the only thing keeping her anchored to earth. How the hell does she answer that?

 

When she doesn’t answer, Tara’s head drops. “It’s okay if this is an experiment.”

 

Bonnie jerks her head towards Tara, mouth open. “Don’t say that!” This is better. She can work with indignation. “Don’t ever let anyone use you like that. I will actually murder them.” 

 

“...Oh,” Tara says, smiling now. Embarrassment - or is it shyness? - floods into Bonnie. She grits her teeth through it. Keep up the momentum. An object in motion stays moving or however the phrasing goes. Angie would know.

 

“I’m not-” The armrests of her chair creak a little. “You’re more important than that.” Bonnie says it through gritted teeth. She’s pretty sure if someone put a pot of water on top of her head, she could boil it. “I just- I mean- I definitely-”

 

Tara leans over and pecks her on the cheek. Somehow, it’s the most amazing feeling of her life. Bonnie goes back to staring at her homework. Better to try and light it on fire than spontaneously combust herself. 

 

“It’s okay if you don’t know yet.” The line of Bonnie’s shoulders goes slack like someone cut a wire. “Do you want help figuring it out?” A beautiful, manicured eyebrow raises in Bonnie’s forehead. “Go on a date with me?”

 

Bonnie squeaks. She squeaks.  Tara breaks into a smile that is really just a smirk. Bonnie reaches over and pokes her for the audacity. “Yes,” Bonnie says with a haughty and raised chin. This is actually happening - a thought occurs to her. She’s going to be going on a date. With a girl. With Tara. Another thought occurs to her. 

 

“Wait,” Bonnie says, “who’s going to be the guy?”

 

Tara pauses in thought. “I don’t know. Do we switch?”

 

“Maybe?” Bonnie puts her homework away to get out a piece of paper. “Should we, like, make a schedule or something? Who should pay first?”

 

“I will!” Tara says. “I asked you out.”

 

The feeling of blood in Bonnie’s cheeks returns with a vengeance. “Okay,” Bonnie says with a wavering voice. “Cool.” She’s not about to chant it like Ange does, but she can understand now why Angie does it. “So, like… We’re dating now?”

 

Slender arms slide around both sides of her waist. Tara’s face is suddenly very close. The citrus of her perfume just brushes past Bonnie’s nose. Soft lips press against her, like the wings of a butterfly. 

 

“Yeah,” Tara says, nuzzling her nose into Bonnie’s cheek. She sounds delighted. “We’re dating now.”

 

---

 

On Friday, Kim enters the cheerleaders’ locker room, sans cast. Bonnie is the first one to notice, Then, one by one, as they catch sight of her, the other girls start to stare. Kim notices when the room starts going quiet and stops in place.

 

“What?” Kim says, shifting from foot to self conscious foot. “What is it?”

 

“K,” Bonnie says, and Kim tenses, visibly readying herself for some verbal sparring. Not what Bonnie’s after right now, but maybe later. “What the hell happened to your arm?”

 

Kim looks at her arm, then the other. There’s nothing on them, which is kind of the problem. Not that Kim is picking up on it “I don’t know? Is something wrong?”

 

“How come you aren’t screaming on the floor right now?” When Kim gives her a confused look, Bonnie walks over and pokes her arm. “Where’d your cast go?” Dawning on Kim’s face. Then she glares and cradles her arm with her other hand. Bonnie rolls her eyes at the dramatics. Clearly, it didn’t hurt.

 

“I’m healed,” Kim says with accusing eyes. Bonnie looks unimpressed (she is impressed) as she switches her sight from Kim’s arms to her forest green eyes. They’re pretty, and Bonnie hates that. 

 

(How did Brick figure out she was gay before she knew herself?)

 

“Was it even broken?”

 

“Wha- of course it was! And it really hurt, so like, thanks for the sympathy.” 

 

“Right,” Bonnie places her hands on the swell of her hips. “Kim, it’s only been a week. Broken bones don’t heal in a week.”

 

“Yeah they do,” Kim sniffs. “Or else a doctor wouldn’t take my cast off!”

 

Bonnie feels her jaw drop. Slowly, she turns to look around at her girls. They’re all staring at Kim with various expressions of shock, awe (annoying), and even a bit of fear. Kim must notice too, because Bonnie hears her make a strange noise from her throat.

 

“They do, right?” Kim says. She doesn’t sound so sure anymore. The girls share glances.

 

“Then why is Angie still in her casts?” Bonnie points out. She saw her just earlier today, heading home from school. It was a shame she wasn’t coming to the game, or afterparty (more than one person asked about her) but she’d give Angie a pass this one time. This last week, Ange had only grown more and more frustrated with her predicament. Apparently, trying to build a third arm with her feet isn’t an easy task. Who could have guessed?

 

“She’s a slow healer.”

 

Bonnie turns around to give Kim a disbelieving, open mouthed, lidded eyed shake of her head. “No, Kim. I don’t think she is. I think you’re just,” Bonnie remembers she’s not allowed to be mean to Kim anymore, even if she really wants to. “Weird,” she finishes lamely. “Like, really, really, really-”

 

“I get it,” Kim deadpans.

 

“Don’t interrupt me!” Bonnie holds her palm up to Kim’s face. “You’re super weird, though.”

 

“I am not!” Kim motions to the girls. “Back me up here, ladies. I’m a totally normal, average, teenage girl! Right?”

 

The girls exchange more glances. Kim stares at them. Hard. 

 

“I can’t dodge bullets,” Crystal says, kicking at the floor. 

 

“I’m pretty sure I’ve seen you lift a car once,” Jessica says. Kim doesn’t look betrayed, exactly. She does blink out at the crowd of girls, dumbfounded.

 

“When I broke my arm in middle school, it took me three months to heal,” Tara says. That had been an interesting time. Bonnie had had to copy down class notes for both of them. And hand feed her, and helped her dress. Did Tara technically need all that help? Well…

 

How did Brick clock her before she clocked herself? So not the point right now!

 

“Kim, you’re insanely, augh, athletic.” Bonnie can’t believe she has to say it, because it’s a compliment, but whatever. She needs the point to really stick. Maybe she’s oblivious about some things about herself, but it’s nothing compared to Kim’s relationship with herself. “Like, superhero athletic.”

 

“Oh,” Kim says stupidly.

 

Tara, always one to smooth things over, walks over and grasps Kim around the shoulders. “I think it’s really cool!” she says with a bright smile. Jealousy curls around Bonnie’s heart and squeezes down on her. “You make everything look effortless. I’d be jellin’ if it wasn’t so fun to watch.”

 

“Oh,” Kim says again, stupider (in Bonnie’s opinion. Maybe that’s just because she feels like throwing her fist right into Kim’s beautiful, stupidest mouth). “Uhm, thanks Tara.”

 

“Anytime!” Tara says, bright enough to light up the universe. Thankfully, she lets go of Kim to skip over to Bonnie. “Now, c’mon. The game’s about to start!” She slides her hand into Bonnie’s, and it makes Bonnie feel a bit better.

 

“You heard her, girls.” Bonnie says with a few snaps of her fingers. “Double time, please. I for one, can’t wait to see the boys kick the shit out of Eastside.” 

 

“Oooh, they better win!” Hope says, hurriedly stuffing her clothes into her locker. “I’m still pissed at Aubrey--” a cheerleader for the team, Bonnie recalls “--for saying we were too scared to show up at Regionals.”

 

A crowd of boos echo in the locker room. Bonnie bristles until Tara squeezes her hand. 

 

“Fuck that fish freak,” Jessica mutters. “We should have roasted and eaten him.” 

 

“Next time, we’ll cannibalize the monster,” Bonnie quips. She thinks about the bigfoot Ange broke herself on - then backlit green eyes and the smell of cooked blood. Bonnie goes a little grey. To distract herself, she looks at Tara and her bright blue eyes. Worry, warmth, affection, Bonnie can see all of it as they observe her. If they weren’t surrounded by the girls, Bonnie might have kissed her. “I’ll bring the soy sauce.” 

 

“Sounds yummy,” Tara says with a light smile. The girls start to filter out of the room. Bonnie and Tara are amongst the last to go, and Tara doesn’t let go of her hand the entire time. 

 

She cares about me, Bonnie realizes as they walk through the hall towards the stadium. A smile starts to spread across her face. She really cares about me. It’s been a while since she felt so complete. A really long while. She takes this feeling and greedily clutches it against herself. Bonnie turns her head to stare at Tara’s profile, not realizing how soft her eyes have become. 

 

She’s never going to let Tara go. A quick look around reveals no one looking at them. Bonnie brings the back of Tara’s hand to her face and drops a quick kiss onto it. Nothing could make Bonnie let her go.

 

---

 

Kim gets out her Kimmunicator and sends a message to Wade.

 

Do I heal weird? Kim says.

 

It only takes three seconds to get a reply.

 

Kim, your genome is a huge anomaly. I don’t think there’s anyone in the world that heals as fast as you do. A beat. Why?

 

Just figuring that out, apparently. 

 

You’re just figuring that out? Kim can imagine the incredulous expression on Wade’s face. She rolls her eyes and tosses her Kimmunicator in her locker. She grabs her pom-poms and marches out towards the stadium. Apparently, Aubrey talked smack about them. She might as well use her anomalous genome to put them back in their place. She is Kim Possible, after all, and everyone knows that she can do anything.

Chapter 87: Chapter 85

Long after classes, by the stadium, while carrying an extra plastic bag in her grip, Bonnie finds Donavan already waiting for her. Without a word, she walks over and places the bag in front of him. Donavan looks at it.

 

Bonnie looks at him.

 

Donavan looks at her.

 

Bonnie raises an eyebrow.

 

Then, Donavan nods and takes the bag. “I’ll be right back,” he says, heading towards the bathroom.

 

Bonnie leans up against a wall and takes out her flip phone to wait. More talk about Monique’s upcoming rager. A picture from Clover’s finished sexy toothpaste tube. What an adorable dork. A text from Tara. Bonnie opens it and feels her heart skip a beat. Plans for their first actual date. It’s mysterious. Just a text saying she wants to steal Bonnie away after cheer on Wednesday. 

 

Donavan comes back to Bonnie staring at her phone, cheeks flushed and smiling.

 

“Do you have plans?”

 

“Oh.” Bonnie looks up. When did he get back? A while ago, she would have told Donavan to fuck off. It's not his business. But… they kind of, sort of, survived a sasquatch together, so maybe he earned a little bit of grace. 

 

“Yeah,” Bonnie says, smiling. “A date this Wednesday. But that's not important right now.” 

 

Donavan is finally wearing his costume. Bonnie isn’t one to brag, but she’s outdone herself. The measurements are perfect, the color scheme divine. A high, high collar, accompanies a spoofed lab jacket, all in white with purple lining. A pair of goggles (in Donavan’s prescription too! She really deserved to brag, okay?) are strapped around his eyes. Purple pants, black, chunky, knee high laced boots, and a utility belt to tie it all together. The mad scientist vibes are immaculate. It’s perfect.

 

Bonnie stares, smirking. It’s almost perfect.

 

“What do you think?” Donavan says. 

 

“It’s baller,” Bonnie says.

 

“So we can finally start?”

 

“No,” Bonnie brings a hand to her face, tapping her chin. “It’s missing something.” She looks Donavan up and down. He’s hunched at the neck. His mop of blonde hair covers up half his goggles, and the perpetual stoic frown on his face continues to stoically frown at her. 

 

“Give me a smile, Donavan.” Donavan gives her a thin smile. Bonnie stares at him, unimpressed. “I know what it’s missing.”

 

“Please, inform the class.” Donavan says, dripping sarcasm off each word.

 

“You don’t have the je ne sais quoi of a villain.”

 

“...What does that even mean?” he asks, crossing his arms.

 

Bonnie clicks her tongue. It’ll be faster to show him. 

 

Bonnie sets down her backpack, then takes a few steps away from the boy. She runs her hands through her brown hair, tussling it back and forth to add volume. She makes sure her back is so straight, her ballet instructor would be proud. Her face draws into a smirk that could make a child burst into tears. Her presence rises all the way to the top of her chest. Finally, she lifts her straight arms at her sides.

 

”Hahahahahaha!” Bonnie laughs towards the sky. It makes Donavan jump in surprise. Good. She palms her waist, then takes slow, deliberate steps towards Donavan. Like a panther cornering a rabbit, she circles the boy. “Donavan,” Bonnie purrs. “You think you can stop me?” 

 

At his back, she leans in to whisper near his ear. “Fool.” She watches a shiver travel from the tips of his toes, to the top of his head. “Nobody can stop me! For I am Bonnibel Rockwaller! Queen of Middleton!” She drags out another laugh, strong and loud enough to echo against the walls of the school and stadium. Donavan takes a step away from her. Good.

 

Bonnie lets her weight rest on one leg, cocks a hip to the side, and smiles an actual smile.

 

“Do that!” Bonnie says, cheery and amused. Donavan’s hands are shaking a little. “You need to be, uh, what do you call yourself?” She waves her hand before Donavan can speak. It doesn’t matter. “Right now, you’re Donavan. We don’t need Donavan.” She points at the costume. “We need an evil villain.”

 

“Maybe you should do it,” Donavan mutters. He takes another deliberate step away from her, and Bonnie rolls her eyes. 

 

“Look, I know I’m amazing, but I spent way too long on that costume.” She learned valuable lessons about needles and thread and thimbles. Another valuable lesson is the convenience of a sewing machine. “If you don’t commit, I’ll turn into an actual villain, kill you, and hide the body.” Donavan takes several more steps away from her. “So, like, buck up and work on it.”

 

“Who can argue with that?” Donavan asks, dry as a desert. He looks down at the costume, running his hands over the fabric. “...Thank you, Bonnibel-”

 

“Bonnie,” Bonnie corrects. Only the people she loves the most get to call her Bonnibel. She doesn’t dwell on the fact that that number is a big fat zero (maybe Tara? She’s still thinking about it).

 

(Maybe Ange? The thought comes suddenly, and it makes no sense. Bonnie has to fight to keep her expression under control.)

 

“Thank you, Bonnie,” Donavan continues. “I will, ah, ‘buck up on it.’”

 

“Great!” Bonnie watches him pick his backpack back up. The boy gives her a stoic nod before he heads back to the restroom to change. Bonnie turns around and leaves, happy to be done with it. 

 

It’s only after Bonnie is half way home that she realizes Donavan called her by her name. It shouldn’t be such a big deal. Donavan is even nerdier than Ange, and ten times less charismatic. He doesn’t even have a rung on the social ladder. He’s not even an important person. 

 

She’s still smiling by the time she makes her through her front door. Maybe, just this once, she’ll make an exception for the loser and be his friend. It’ll be like charity or something. 

 

---

 

Having someone else put in contact lenses on her behalf is so ferociously weird. But, if anyone could do it, it would be a Possible. Especially Kim Possible.

 

“Hey- Ow!” Ange says, wiggling around underneath her adorable sister. Kim grits her teeth, trying and failing to keep Ange still by clamping her thighs around Ange’s lap.

 

“Stop being a baby! I almost had it that time.”

 

“But it hurts,” Ange whines, bracing herself. She stands up, taking Kim - who instinctually koala’d onto Ange - with her. Kim squeaks. Very cute.

 

“I thought you liked pain!” Kim says, lining up the contact lens.

 

Ange’s mouth falls open. She blushes a little, then bites her lip as she figures out the correct phrasing to approach this delicate subject.

 

“Kim… if you want to be the one inflicting pain on me that way, I think we need to have a deeper discussion about thi-mpphpph!”

 

Kim slaps her hand over Ange’s mouth and blushes a red so vibrant it outshines her hair. “Don’t be gross or I won’t help you!”  

 

It’s kind of the outcome Ange wants? Then she thinks about all the experiments she hasn’t been able to progress on and pouts. “Mmrmry.”

 

Thankfully, Kim realizes it’s the apology she deserves, so she lets Ange’s mouth go. “You’re going to be good?” Kim says.

 

Ange decides not to comment on that, even if it would be so easy to.

 

“I’ll hold still,” Ange says, widening her eyes. Satisfied, Kim finally pops in one of the contact lenses. Immediately, an overlay flickers online. A menu only she can see blinks to life in front of her face. A little box that says “calibrating, please standby…” hovers at the bottom left corner of her vision. Kim pops the other smart overlay contact lens, and the world becomes complete. 

 

Ange closes her eyes for three seconds. When she opens them, the lenses scan surrounding items and give her their chemical composition. She closes her eyes again, and gets a heat map of the entire visible room when she opens them. Another iteration gives her a wave spectrum. She looks around in awe, then stops short.

 

“Woah,” Kim says. “Your eyes are glowing.”

“Does it look cool?”

 

“Very.” 

 

Ange grins at her sister. Already, she’s thinking about how to integrate this into Kim’s stealth suit. 

 

“You should tell dad the Tweebs are making a nuclear bomb,” Ange says, pointing at a containment cube haphazardly covered by blankets. (It’s silly to do with her casts, because she has to choose between gesturing with her entire arm, or her finger - and then choose if the forearm is doing the pointing, or the upper arm.) Gamma radiation bounces around the walls of the cube. Ange gives them points for not dosing the entire lab with it. 

 

Kim follows her gaze, jaw on the floor. It’s kind of relatable. When the two sisters share a glance, Ange can only shrug.

 

“I am SO going to kill them!” Kim says, breaking for the stairs.

 

Ange watches her go with a fond grin. Once the door slams shut, she turns around to her end of the laboratory. It only takes a minute to start interfacing her lenses with her pre-made software. The equipment that can activate underneath her gaze. The analog ones will, unfortunately, have to wait until her robotic arm is finally complete.

 

This purchase is so worth it.

“Open portal to Mike Delta base,” Ange says. The Temporal Wormhole Transponder clicks on with a gentle hum. A tear through space forms in front of Angelus. The cold, but not the smell of the deep ocean starts wafting into the room. After quadruple checking her quintuple redundant fail safes are in working order (the last one in an S.O.S to Kim), Ange steps through the human sized circle and it closes behind her, leaving her in a completely new world.

 

A giant computer takes up most of this module. There are cameras of the ocean outside the base. Some of them show dark murky water, flecked by particles floating by. Most are the view from her now many Marine Dive mining machines - nicknamed Mike Delta, alpha version one point zero zero - laser light cutting cubes into solid rock. 

 

It’s going swimmingly. Ange giggles at the pun, watching as her machines take matter from the sea floor and ferry it to her storage module. There are three more modules, all attached to each other by a series of hallways. The most important is the convert module, where the raw material turns into something useful. The second is the safe house, equipped with a fully functioning (if rather small) hospital and a year's worth of nutritional paste for the entire family.

 

Ange thinks about her recent group of friends. Her heart quivers, raw and exposed. She makes a mental note to expand the living quarters. Just in case.

 

The last room… she’d conceptualized more dangerous builds, but only dared to create a select few. Ange looks at the doorway. If she opened it and took a left, she’d arrive there. It would only take a button press to activate her most dangerous construction. A doomsday machine so effective it could destroy the world in less than a second. No one would even know what happened. It would be as painless a death as could be.

 

Ange looks around the base one more time. Her ocular overlay connects with the computer, and using sight alone she cycles through the files safely stored on deck. A few new species have been discovered. Ange prints out that data with a series of blinks, and tucks it underneath her elbow. A camera on the monitor shows that the laboratory is clear. 

 

“Open portal to Home Laboratory.”

 

Something tears through space. A human shaped circle appears in front of her. On the other side, white fluorescent light leaks through. Ange steps through it, leaving her deep sea base, and her most dangerous weapons behind. She won’t press that button. She’s not a villain.

 

---

 

Amelia doesn’t share the same lunch period as her, or else they’d see each other every day at the cool kids table. So, it’s a bit of a surprise when she comes upon Amelia loitering outside the heavy double doors to the cafeteria, leaning against a wall. Cool as a cucumber, that one. 

 

Ange grins. Bonnie would murder her for that phrase. She needs to find a way to sneak it into conversation. 

 

“Hi Amelia,” Ange says, about to head inside. She has a huge portion of steak with freshly made chimichurri, and she’s going to absolutely go ham on it. 

 

“Hi Angie,” Amelia says, placing her hand on Ange’s cast, right where the bicep would be. Ange stops short, staring at it. “How’s it going?” Amelia has small and delicate hands. They’re quite pretty, actually.

 

Ange looks up before it gets weird.

 

“I’m doing fine, thanks for asking,” Ange says. It’s a little hard to figure out what’s going on behind Amelia’s eyes. They’re squinted with affection. There’s also some kind of calculation layered underneath it. Ange tilts her head. “How about you?”

 

“Well...” Amelia nibbles on her lower lip. They’re beautiful lips. Even her teeth look nice. A few straggling students pass them by. One of them reaches over and pats Ange on the back. A student from the sasquatch party. It’s enough to get Ange to stop fixating on Amelia’s pretty mouth.

 

When Ange looks up, she sees amused, dark blue-green eyes staring back at her. 

 

“I just wanted to make sure you were holding up okay.” Amelia finally removes her hand from Ange’s cast. She tucks both of them behind her back. They’re almost the exact same height, Ange notices. Amelia is maybe a half inch shorter than her. “I thought it was super brave what you did that weekend.”  

 

“Oh,” Ange looks down, fidgeting. “It was no big. I’m glad everyone there ended up okay.” If only she’d fought it sooner. Maybe that little boy would still have parents. Maybe that grandfather would still be alive for his children.

 

“You saved my life,” Amelia says. Those words aren’t alien anymore. Ange has heard it more than once these several days. After the first few, she’d been thoroughly desensitized. it was hard to feel proud of them anymore. At least, she thought so. Ange looks back up to see Amelia’s warm smile and feels it start sending little sparks in her belly. “That’s a pretty big deal to me.”

 

“Well- uhm...” Ange can feel her face get warm. “I guess it is.” She shrugs, then wonders if that’s an inappropriate response. “I’m, er... really happy you’re alive?” 

 

For some reason, Amelia bursts into laughter. It’s cadenced and light. It’s something Ange would like to hear again. 

 

“Thanks, Angie.” 

 

Her being short circuits when a pair of lips press against her cheek. Ange gets a front row seat to the flowing brown hair cascading down Amelia’s neck. She smells like peach perfume. It’s only the briefest taste before Amelia pulls back. 

 

Ange gapes at her, which makes her cover her mouth with a hand and giggle some more. “See you around, Possible.”

 

“Huh?” Ange says, very smartly. Amelia doesn’t give her the chance to recover. With a little wave, she saunters down the hallway with swaying hips. Ange watches her go, mouth wide open. It takes her an embarrassingly long amount of time for her to close it.

 

Wowie.

 

She pushes the heavy double doors to the cafeteria open using only her back. Bonnie and Tara are easy to find, sitting in their usual spot. Tara’s head is resting on Bonnie’s shoulder. Bonnie is holding Tara’s hand underneath the table. They’ve been closer since the sasquatch incident. It’s kind of nice.

 

It’s kind of lonely too. 

 

Let’s not dwell on sad thoughts, Ange thinks. The cheek that Amelia kissed is still tingling. A big, stupid smile spreads across her face. Ange floats across the cafeteria floor and sits down at her spot. 

 

So what if she can’t have Bonnie’s affections. She still gets to cherish Bonnie as her close friend - and she certainly plans to do that for a long while.

 

As for romance? Ange inhales, and maybe it’s her mind playing a trick on her, but she smells peaches. There’s plenty of fish in the sea, and Ange has a literal, automated deep sea base. She’ll be fine.

 

She just needs to catch the right one.

Chapter 88: Chapter 86

Notes:

phew, sorry i wasn't able to update yesterday. I went to a museum of illusions and got so tuckered out i slept for ten hours.

Shego grabs the back of the guard’s head and smashes him face-first into the concrete prison wall. He crumples into an unconscious heap. She steps over his limp body to bury the first three knuckles of her fist into the kevlar armored core of another guard. She watches his eyes go wide and unfocused behind his black visor. When she pushes through, he flies backwards with such force his body smashes against a few of his squad mates, knocking them off their feet and onto their backs.

 

The barrels of seven guns aim in her direction. Shego jumps, letting gunfire rocket uselessly underneath her. Each bullet kicks up shards of concrete into the floor and wall. If they’re bringing projectiles into this…

 

Her hands come to life. Bursts of glowing plasma lick up her forearms. Mid air, Shego aims her fingers and fires off five quick blasts. Some start screaming, collapsing to the floor as their rifles melt into their hands. The quick ones drop their rifles. 

 

Shego touches down without a sound, right in front of the unluckiest guard. They have just enough time to realize just how unlucky they are before Shego swings her torso down and shoots her foot up. The satisfying give of a human body losing to the inertia of the bottom of her boot almost makes her purr. The poor soul goes flying, knocking down three more men. 

 

Shego stands back up, staring the last two down. One of them has enough mettle to pull out a knife. It’s actually kind of impressive. The flash of steel catching light flies by her head as they swing at her. It does nothing. She steps back once, then twice when they flick their wrist and catch it in a reverse grip. Another slice that cuts air alone. Shego raises her fist above her head. The third swing is their last. Electric green eyes track the swift movement of their arm. She brings hers down as quickly as her mutated body allows. 

 

Her fist slams into the top of their forearm, shattering the bone into pieces beneath her knuckles. They scream. Their knife clatters against the floor. Shego smirks, picking them up with the hand that broke them and tosses them to the side.

 

Shego eyes the last man standing. He eyes her back. Without a word, the man turns around and takes off running towards the exit. It's the smartest thing Shego's seen a grunt do. She turns and walks through her own doorway. 

 

“Shego?” Dr. Drakken's familiar voice.

 

“Doc,” Shego says, leaning against the doorframe. She takes a good, long look at him.

 

Drakken sits in the corner of his cell, sulking. He’s skinnier than she’s used to. His black, beady eyes are sunken a little more in his head than normal.

 

Prison looks good on him.

 

“It’s been a month!” Drakken says, whining. It’s nice to know he still has his spirit. Shego rolls electric green eyes. “You’ve never let me stay for more than a week!”

 

“Oh, is that so?” Shego looks down at her nails, then takes out a ceramic file and starts sharpening her metal claws. “Can you maybe guess why I took so long?” She hears Drakken scoff.

 

“Shego, please! I don’t want to deal with another of your guessing games!” He flails his arms like the mad man he is. “Just get me out of here!”

 

“I don’t think I want to.” 

 

From a place far away, the distant sound of stomping boots approaching echoes against the walls. Shego blows on her nails, and little metallic shavings fall onto the floor. Dr. Drakken pauses, hearing it too.

 

“I’m your employer! You must do what I say!” 

 

“You haven’t paid me in three weeks,” Shego points out. “Technically, our contract is void.”

 

A blue mouth opens in surprise. The stomping boots get closer. Dr. Drakken starts to look nervous. “Mmmmn, I’m not sure what I did! But I’m sorry!”

 

That actually makes Shego raise an eyebrow. “An apology? Wow, Dr. D. I’m impressed.” 

 

“Thank you, Shego.” Drakken lets his chest puff out. “Now get me out of here.”

 

“Tell me why you’re sorry,” Shego says, lazily peeking down the hallway. Rhythmic, metallic clangs ring out. She can see the thump of a door ram visibly shake the melted-closed prison doors. She hears Dr. Drakken squeak in fear and she has to suppress her wicked grin. She kind of missed the guy. A fact she’ll never, ever admit in a million years.

 

“I just told you I don’t know, Shego!” Drakken says, flailing mad-manily once more. With her same lazy energy, Shego fixes her gaze back onto her technically-not-employer-at-the-moment employer. “Can’t we discuss this later?! They’re almost here.”

 

“Drakken,” Shego says, narrowing her eyes. She lets them glow for good measure. “What were you in the middle of doing before the cops took you in?”

 

“Running from you because you were trying to kill me! Which just isn’t very nice, if I may say so.”

 

“Uh huh, uh huh,” Shego lifts her arm and sends a plasma blast at the door. It’s perfectly timed. The guards finally smash their door ram hard enough against the twisted metal to break through. Her plasma smashes into them hard enough to knock them down like bowling pins. Shego lets herself smirk a little. She got a strike. “And why was I trying to kill you?”

 

“Because I made a device that took away your impulse control and you had sexual intercourse with Kim Possible,” Drakken says. Then he frowns. “That’s not very appropriate, by the way. We should talk to HR about it.”

 

“We don’t have an HR,” Shego says dryly. 

 

“Oh,” Drakken looks like he isn’t sure what to say now. He scratches underneath the scar on his eye. “Should we get one?”

 

“Yes please,” Shego says, kicking off the doorframe. “So I can report you for making a device that made me fuck Kim Possible!”

 

“Watch your language!” 

 

From his perspective, only one eye is visible on Shego’s face. It’s almost like a cat’s eye catching the light. Glowing electric green, shaded by luscious black hair, it darts right at him so quickly he can’t even see the movement.

 

Drakken huddles a little harder against the wall. “S-so, using the powers of deduction, I can conclude t-that sexual intercourse with Kim Possible is why I’m here.”

 

Shego makes a noise. She’s not sure what kind of noise it is, but it’s full of negative emotion. Her hand meets her face. She points the other at Drakken and lets the tip of a finger glow with plasma. She gives him just enough time to jump out of the way before a searing, powerful beam fires straight and true. In only a second, the thick concrete and metal lined prison wall has a melted, human sized hole in it, still dripping material as it cools.

 

“Dr. D, if you ever make anything that has me sleeping with Ms. Goody goody again, I won’t let the next one miss.”

 

“You didn’t miss. I evaded your attack-” The look Shego gives him peels paint. Literally. Shego is pretty sure she sees some peeling right now. Maybe it’s from the heat of her plasma, but she likes the first option better. “No sexual intercourse with Miss Possible, understood,” Drakken says very quickly, ignoring the heated concrete to dive out of the prison. 

 

“Wait, Doc, we’re on the second fl-” Shego says, holding out a hand. It’s too late. He’s already gone.

 

“AAAAaaaaaahhhhhOW,” Drakken says. 

 

Shego stares out the freedom hole she just created. Making her way towards it, she can’t help but feel her lip twitch. Peering through the cavity is a real treat. Dr. Drakken lays on the ground, face first. Occasionally, his foot twitches. The only reason Shego doesn’t worry is because Drakken has it in him to hold out a hand, thumb pointed upwards.

 

“Mmph Mhhphhh,” Drakken says. Shego steps off into open air and lets gravity take her to the ground. She lands without a noise, reaches down, and picks the man up by the back of his collar. “I’m okay,” Drakken says again. Shego is pretty sure he left a tooth on the concrete. 

 

“I gotta say, Doc,” Shego says, watching Drakken feel around the newest gap in his mouth with his tongue. “It’s nice to be back.” 

 

“That is very nice of you to say, Shego!” Drakken says, spewing blood everywhere. Some of it gets on her catsuit. She’s already regretting saying anything. “I missed you too! But now we’re back together as one villainous, happy family.” 

 

“I’m not calling you dad.”

 

“Wha- but- I’m of fatherly age!” 

 

“Ew,” Shego says, shuddering. Drakken looks genuinely hurt. “You’re a weird uncle at best.” He looks even more hurt. Augh. Shego rolls her eyes. She’s really about to do this. “C’mon, tio,” Shego says, heading towards her getaway plane. “Let’s jet.”

 

“My name is Doctor Drakken,” says Doctor Drakken. Shego points her gaze to the sky and wonders why her life turned out this way.

 

---

 

On Wednesday, after practice, and after the girls have showered and start heading off on their own, Tara takes Bonnie’s hand. She walks them towards the bus stop that will take them to Tara’s home. She doesn’t let go of Bonnie’s hand the entire wait time, or even after they grab some seats back at the very end of the empty bus. Like normal girl friends, Bonnie leans up against Tara’s side, reveling in the warmth of her body. Like normal girl friends, Tara lets her head tilt until it’s resting on the top of her head. She drops a kiss against her scalp, and that’s not so normal, but no one else is around to see.

 

“What have you planned?” Bonnie asks, unable to keep the smile out of her voice. 

 

“That’s a spoiler,” Tara says against her hair. It’d be annoying to hear that from anyone else. Bonnie doesn’t mind surprises that much, but they aren’t her favorite either. Or maybe she just doesn’t trust the people in her life enough to give her good ones. 

 

Except one person, apparently.

 

“Don’t be such a tease,” Bonnie says, relaxing fully against Tara. She closes her eyes. The bus bumps along the road, starting and stopping on the way to their destination. It doesn’t smell very good in the vehicle, but Tara does. 

 

Bonnie buries her face against Tara’s shoulder. She could see herself doing this for a long time. The thought doesn’t even scare her.

 

“Let’s go shopping this weekend,” Bonnie says. She feels Tara shift her head. “No, it wouldn’t be a date. I’ll take you on something better than that.” Tara snorts in amusement. “I just want some new fall clothes.”

 

“I still need to get Angie to buy me that handbag,” Tara says. Is it bad to be jealous of that? Probably. “Stop pouting.”

 

Bonnie pulls back to narrow her eyes at Tara. Tara smirks, rolling her own. “Yeah, yeah, sorry for telling you what to do.” Bonnie sniffs at her. Haughtily. “You could get her to buy you something too.”

 

“I know.” That girl is so easy to manipulate. “But, like, I’m not about to get sloppy seconds.” When Tara raises an eyebrow, Bonnie elaborates. “You’re going to get the nicest bag, right? I can’t get the same one, and Angie will have just spent a lot on you, so how can she spend as much on me-”

 

“Wow, you put a lot of thought into this,” Tara says. Bonnie gives her an obvious and annoyed look. 

 

“Duh, Tara.” She, of all people, should know how important fashion is. 

 

“But wouldn’t it be cute if we had matching bags?” 

 

Oh. Bonnie pauses the rant she was about to go on to consider it. Matching bags would be cute in a subtle way, and far more tasteful than couple outfits. Very tempting.

 

Tara wraps an arm around her waist. “I want to be able to show it off with you.” 

 

The subtext underneath that is easy to read. Bonnie’s not brave enough - she’s not ready to tell anyone. Obviously Tara’s picked up on that. Right now, this is as close as Tara will be able to get to publicly staking a claim on her.

 

Guilt starts weighing down Bonnie’s shoulders. 

 

“Okay, let's do that,” Bonnie says after a long moment of silence. Tara squeezes her, smiling patiently.

 

“We don’t ever have to tell anyone if you don’t want to.”

 

Why does Tara know her so well? Bonnie looks away. She doesn’t want Tara to see the expression on her face. Being seen is such an… no, it’s not awful right now. 

 

“Just let me get used to it,” Bonnie mumbles. “You’re more important than a secret.”

 

“No big. I’ve waited years already. What’s a few more?”

 

“I don’t think it’ll take years.” Bonnie can start prepping the girls for her big gay reveal tomorrow.

 

Then turquoise eyes blink, catching a very important detail. “You’ve waited for years?” Bonnie pulls away from Tara’s shoulder just in time to see Tara’s face go pink. She’s paler than Bonnie. Her blushes are way obvious. “How long?”

 

“Oh, check it out,” Tara says, gripping a metal pole and standing up before the bus has even stopped. “We’re here.” Bonnie, not an animal, waits for the bus to stop before she gets up. Her arm hangs in the air, still holding onto Tara’s soft hand.

 

“Tara!” Bonnie says, smirking. “How long?” Tara has about an inch of height on her. It’s kind of infuriating that the only person Bonnie is taller than is Donavan. That doesn’t mean she can’t see the tips of Tara’s ears start to flush. Bonnie bites down on her smiling lower lip. “Tara-ah,” she says, drawing out the last syllable. 

 

“Sorry, I can’t hear you. I’m walking,” Tara says, walking out of the bus very quickly. Bonnie follows at her heels, smothering a laugh. 

 

Years? She’s liked me for years? Butterflies make a home inside her chest, landing to rest upon each rib bone, wings flapping open and closed.

 

Bonnie speeds up so they’re walking side by side. The grin on her face makes Tara stare off and to the side, unable to meet her gaze. How cute. They turn a corner together, and the familiar siding to Tara’s house is finally in view. Tara’s hand is just slightly bigger than her own. Bonnie gives it a teasing squeeze, eliciting a little twitch from her Tara. The closed mouth laugh that Bonnie gives her only makes the flush on her face go a lovely shade of dark red. If they weren’t in public, Bonnie might kiss her. 

 

She’ll drop it for now. Apparently, Bonnie has years to figure it out.

Chapter 89: Chapter 87

Notes:

Sorry for the accidental duplicate chapter. I was tired when I uploaded ;-; Have the real one

Before the sun sets, Tara walks Bonnie home. It’s nice. It’s really nice. They don’t live far from each other, less than ten minutes, really. The two girls walk slow enough to make it twenty. The flower tucked behind Bonnie’s ear makes her entire world smell sweet. 

 

“Hey,” Bonnie says, staring up at the pink sky. Sunlight is painting clouds with vibrant fire. She turns to Tara who’s silhouetted against the vibrant sky and a possessive satisfaction snaps its teeth underneath her skin. Hers. 

 

“I have this thing in December.” Tara raises a questioning eyebrow. “I’m going to be the lead for Swan Lake. I was wondering if you’d like to come watch?” Bonnie shrugs, looking away first. “But, like, I get it if you don’t. Ballet can get boring.”

 

“Girl,” Tara says, fondly rolling her eyes. “You couldn’t pay me to not be there.” 

 

A pleasant little thrill zips up her spine. Bonnie hooks her arm around Tara’s elbow, reveling in the presence of her girlfriend (probably - she should really ask for some clarification on if they’re dating or dating).

 

Lonnie and Connie are rolling their bags back into the house when they finally arrive, and Bonnie’s good mood comes crashing down over her shoulders to crumble at her feet.

 

Her three weeks are up.

 

“Shit,” Bonnie breathes out. Tara follows her gaze and frowns. 

 

“Do you want to stay at mine?” 

 

Bonnie shakes her head. She’s pretty sure Tara’s parents will suspect something if she comes back. The backyard is still filled with flowers and fairy lights. She’s not ready to face that music yet. Better to face the music she already knows. What an awful tune it is.

 

“Oh look, Bonnie’s back!” Connie says, always the more observant of the two. Bonnie is already scoffing. “We thought you’d be home from school by now, but I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. You are kind of slow.”

 

Lonnie starts snickering from behind her hand. Bonnie fights down her instinctual bristling. If she shows that it gets to her, they’ll only double down on it.

 

The slam of a car door catches their attention. They all turn just in time to see the window roll down. Diya, Bonnie’s mother, waves at the three girls from the passenger seat as their father drives away. She should be used to it by now, but leaving without even a word stings every time.

 

“Hi girls, it looks like you’re home from vacation,” Tara says lightly. Bonnie can feel how tense she is through their entwined arms. 

 

“Thailand,” Lonnie says, happy to brag. “It was absolutely gorg. The culture is just so beautiful. It’s really a shame you couldn’t make it, Bon-bon.”

 

“I doubt she’d appreciate it,” Connie titters, holding the door open for her fraternal twin

 

“It must be heaven over there,” Tara says, looking them up and down. Agreeing nods from the two. “Especially now that you’re here.”

 

Bonnie catches on way before the other two. It doesn’t matter how hard she bites her lip, she can’t keep the grin away. She gives up and lets it bloom into a cruel line on her mouth. 

 

“I’ll see you at school, Bonnie.” Tara leaves just as dawning forms inside her sisters’ stupid heads.

 

“Bye,” Bonnie murmurs. She turns to her glaring sisters with an unamused look on her face. “Can you two get out of the way?” Bonnie makes a shooing gesture with her hands. “It’s cold out here. Couldn’t you two have at least brought a little fire when you crawled up from the depths of hell?”

 

“Fuck off, Bonnie,” Lonnie growls, rolling her luggage through the door. 

 

“At least that’s not where we’re headed when we die,” Connie spits out with a sneer. She stares Bonnie down as she starts following her sister inside.

 

Bonnie gives her the same grin the sasquatch gave her right before she killed it, and Connie’s eyes go wide. “They’re making something worse just for you two,” Bonnie says, following them in and beelining for her bedroom. Thank goodness she’s a tidy person. There’s nothing to clean up or put back in place. The more time she spends outside of her room, the more opportunities her sisters have to throw barbs at her. 

 

Bonnie shuts the door behind her, then she leans on it. Habitually, she locks it, staring out at the last gasp of sunset from her window. The world starts going dark. Bonnie shuts her eyes and lets her head fall back against her door, clunking on the hard, dark wood.

 

Back to the status quo. 

 

Her phone vibrates. A text from Tara. Bonnie fishes her phone out to check.

 

Got hme ok <3

 

Good. See you tomorrow. <3

 

Her sisters are back, her parents don't speak to her, she almost watched her best friend die, and she killed something. The saber that did it is right there, charging on her bookshelf. Ange let her keep it. Bonnie stares at it, conflicted.

 

That... thing, wasn’t a human, so why does she feel like a murderer? That lightsaber made her one, so why doesn’t she feel safe unless it’s nearby?

 

Her phone vibrates again. Another message from Tara.

 

Mss u :c 

 

It’s followed by a selfie of Tara in her bedroom. Her soft, bright blue eyes stare out at Bonnie through the screen. She has an adorable pout on her lips. Bonnie holds the phone against her chest, keeping Tara near her heart. Bonnie wants to kiss her, and that compulsion is almost alien, except Bonnie is realizing she’s always wanted to kiss Tara. 

 

It’s not exactly the status quo anymore, is it? She’s finally being honest with herself.

 

---

 

“Angie! Over here.” 

 

Angie turns to the noise and lets out a pleased little hum. At the entrance of Club Banana, two of her favorite girls are leaning against the wall, waiting for her. Not in that way, but it’s still nice. 

 

“About time, Possible,” Bonnie says, kicking off the wall with a smile. Tara hops over and throws her arms around Ange’s shoulders. Carefully, Ange wraps her casts around the girl’s slender waist. Maybe she takes a subtle sniff.

 

Girls smell good, sue her. 

 

“Sorry,” Ange says against Tara’s shoulder. “I can’t take my bike, so I’m a slave to the whims of our metropolitan transit system.” She feels Tara giggle against her. 

 

“The horror,” Bonnie quips. She tilts her head into Club Banana. “Now come on, the fall collection just dropped. I want to look fabulous this year.”

 

“But Bonnie, you always look fabulous,” Ange says.

 

“You’re hot as hell already,” Tara says at the same time. Ange shares a glance of mutual agreement with her. 

 

“Hmm, I could get used to this. Keep complimenting me.”

 

Tara raises an eyebrow. “Do you want to go first, or should I?” she asks.

 

Ange smirks. They follow Bonnie into the depths of Club Banana. It’s busier than normal because of the fall launch, but at least people aren’t committing felonies. This time. “Ladies first.”

 

“Okie dokie,” Tara says. “You’re smart, hard working, really cool, good with people, really funny, hot--”

 

Bonnie stops in her tracks to stare at Tara with wide eyes.

 

“--super athletic, talented, skilled, nice-” 

 

“Wait, wait,” Bonnie holds a hand up. Curiously, her face starts turning bright red. “That’s enough, okay!” 

 

“But I wasn’t done,” Tara pouts.

 

Bonnie glares at her. It’s lost all venom by the flush creeping towards the tips of her ears.

 

“I didn’t even get to start,” Ange says, also pouting. “That’s not fair.”

 

Bonnie turns her gaze to Ange. There’s a layer of curiosity underneath flustered anger. It’s very cute, but Bonnie isn’t hers, so Ange doesn’t let herself revel in it. “And what would you even say?!”

 

“You’re clever, mean in a fun way,--” Ange ignores the wide eyes of Tara “--you smell nice, you’re gorgeous, tenacious, ambitious,--” apparently, it’s possible to glow like heated iron. Bonnie is doing that right now “--oyal, vicious, protective-”

 

Bonnie stomps her foot. “I get it!” she whisper-yells, looking around.

 

Ange does too.

 

Some of the other customers are staring. Monique, who always takes Saturday morning, is also staring. When Ange’s gaze meets hers, she smirks, then flicks her wrist in a whipping motion. Now it’s Ange’s turn to feel her cheeks warm up.

 

“I don’t understand this game,” Ange says, looking away quickly. Maybe if she teases Bonnie some more, she’ll be able to get over herself. “We’re just doing what you asked, and now you want to stop us?”

 

“Yeah, Bonnie.” Tara walks over and wraps her arms around Bonnie’s waist. Casual intimacy between girls that Ange wouldn’t feel right encroaching upon. “We just wanna tell you how wonderful you are.”

 

Bonnie seems to be speechless for once in her life. To pass the time while Bonnie reboots, Ange starts looking at the new clothes on display. 

 

It’s a very nice collection! Warm dark colors, like plum, umber, something called naval blue (apparently, blue could be warm? The more you learn. She should do some experimenting with color theory sometime) being paired with bright pinks and reds, or classy pastels. All that, and Ange can’t help but focus on a simple and long black jacket that looks extra cozy. 

 

“Why is vicious a compliment to you?” Bonnie says, knocking Ange out of her musings.

 

When she looks at Bonnie, she’s met with a dangerous, curious, and calculating gaze. Best to tread carefully. The wrong answer could mean a fingernail to an eye. Or both of them.

 

“You have more than a backbone,” Ange replies, grinning in amusement. Vicious is a bit odd of a taste, now that she thinks about it. “Both proactive and result oriented. And--” the smile falls off her face. Ange speaks, and when she does, she looks Bonnie right in the eyes “--you killed for me.”

 

Bonnie visibly stiffens. Some kind of conflict starts warring behind turquoise eyes. While Tara squeezes Bonnie tighter (lucky), she can only walk over and touch her fingertips to Bonnie’s hand. 

 

“You saved my life, Bonnie.” If only she wasn’t in casts, if only Bonnie wasn’t spoken for, Ange would kiss the back of her hand. She’s half tempted to figure out how to do it anyway. “I wish I knew how to thank you for it.”

 

“Oh,” Bonnie says, smartly. Ange’s lip twitches, letting Bonnie recover again. “Well, it was no big. You kind of did most of the work.”

 

Ange raises an eyebrow, waiting.

 

“I guess I did have to finish the job, though. Don’t be so lazy next time.”

 

There we go. Ange lets herself laugh, and it curls like smoke around them all. “I’ll do better then.”

 

And she will.

 

She has to.

 

“Good.” Bonnie looks her up and down, then turns to Tara. They have a conversation with their eyes that Ange can’t parse. “If you really want to thank me, get me the same bag you promised to get Tara. That’ll be a start.”

 

How curious. Matching bags should be a faux pas. Maybe it’s different for close friends.

 

Ange smiles, and it’s as wry as the bread. “Matching bags for the ladies,” she says. “Can I get you two anything else?”

 

Immediately, she realizes it’s the wrong thing to say. The girls blink once at her, then go back to their silent conversation. The smile on Tara’s face is sly, but the one on Bonnie’s is downright hungry. 

 

“That top over there looks super cute,” Tara says, gesturing with her head at a row of blouses. “And, like, I need some warmer pants. It’s going to get colder soon.”

 

“Shoes,” Bonnie says. The two girls squeal in delight at the simple mention of shoes. Ange looks down at her chunky blue sneakers and shivers. “We need like, three new pairs each. Omg, what should we get first?” 

 

“Clothes, then accessories, then shoes,” Tara says with little, excited hops. She’s not spoken for, so Ange lets herself revel in that. “Easier to carry.”

 

“You’re so smart, T.” Bonnie purrs. “I could kiss you.”

 

“Maybe later,” Tara says with a fox-grin. “Clothes now.”

 

Hand in hand, the two take off down the aisles, looking for the best of the best from the new fall collection. Ange doesn’t even realize they’re gone. 

 

Tara and Bonnie kissing, she thinks. The mental image won’t leave her mind, not even when she thinks about baseball really, really hard. Tara and Bonnie kissing. “Hehe.”

 

“Girl, you good?” Monique says, somehow materializing out of thin air. 

 

“AH!” Ange says, jumping high enough to smack the top of her head against the ceiling. She lands with a bend of her knees, face scrunched up in pain. “Owie.” Monique stares at her like she’s grown a second head. 

 

“Actually, never mind.” Monique looks towards Bonnie and Tara, then back at Ange. Her gaze is evaluating. Ange hopes the floor is sentient so it can choose to open up and swallow her. “I don’t think I want to know.”

 

“No,” Ange mutters. Her casts mean she can’t even rub the top of her head. “You probably don’t.”

 

---

 

“Sorry Monique,” Ron says, kicking back at the booth of Bueno Nacho. “But we just can’t make it. It’s a Ron and KP tradition to do our T and T connection.” He pops a tortilla chip heaping with salsa and guacamole into his mouth. Then he does something super gross. He starts talking. 

 

“Middleton, Upperton, then Lowerton, trick or treating all night long.” Littler chips from the chip fly out of his mouth, a piece of guac almost falls onto his shirt. He catches it with another chip, and then starts eating that too.

 

Ange makes sure to look away so she can re-capture her appetite.

 

Rufus, sitting in a bowl of melted cheese the way one might sit in a jacuzzi, nods. “Mhm, mhm, all night.”

 

“Booyah!”

 

Monique looks at Kim. Ange looks at Kim. Ron looks at his nachos. Kim just looks miserable.

 

“Kim, are you sure you wanna do T and T?” Monique says as sympathetically as one can. “The party is going to be OTH. Off the hook. Heck, Josh’s band is playing for us.”

 

“You got Josh to play for you?” Kim gives Monique such a forlorn gaze, Monique winces. Ange doesn’t blame her. Josh has an amazing band. He could probably make a career out of it. “Ron, don’t you think we might be a little too old to go trick or treating?”

 

“Too old for T and T?” The thought must not have ever occurred to Ron, because he stares at Kim blankly. “Why on earth would you think that?”

 

“I got ma’amed last year,” Kim deadpans, stabbing her fork into her chicken fajita salad. “It was ferociously ick.”

 

Ange finally chases her hunger down like a lioness in the savannah and leans over to steal Kim’s morsel midway to Kim’s mouth. 

 

“Hey!” Kim says, jerking her fork away. It comes out empty. Ange chews happily, wiggling mightily from side to side. Not even the little glare Kim gives her can stop these wiggles.

 

“That’s alright, KP. The costume I picked out is gonna hide all that.” Ron reaches under the table to rustle around in his backpack. The ominous sentence makes her adorable sister shift nervously beside her.

 

Ange decides to throw her a bone because Kim looks like she could really, really use one right now.

 

“It’s a horsie outfit,” Ange says before Ron can make the big reveal. Ron startles, then hits the bottom of the table using the top of his head.

 

“Ow!” 

 

“There’s a head and a butt. Take your pick.” The look of horror that Kim gives her is almost funny. Except it’s her sister giving her that look. Oh, who is she kidding? It’s hilarious. Ange bites the inside of her cheek in order to keep a straight face. It would work on anyone that didn’t know her as well as Kim. Green eyes narrow dangerously at her.

 

“What she said. A horsie. Thanks for spoiling, by the way.” Ron finally makes it out from under the table, rubbing his head and glaring at Ange. Because she knows it freaks him out, Ange gives him an unreadable smile and a steady stare. Ron swallows, then holds up his drawing of a two piece costume of a horse. “Totally incognito, KP. There’s nothing to worry about.”

 

Kim Possible is a very nice girl. Sometimes, she’s too nice. It might even be one of her greatest weaknesses. Not wanting to say no, she gives Ron a smile that tries not to be uncomfortable, and Ron is oblivious enough to not see it.

 

One day, Ange is going to have to sit that boy down and have a nice long talk with him.

 

For now, she leans over and nudges her shoulder against Kim’s. Do you really want to go to the party? Ange asks with her eyes. Kim gives her an imperceptible nod. Ange pulls out a card she’s been milking ever since she broke both her arms and starts her needy little sister act.

 

“Sorry, Ron. I need her tonight,” Ange whines. In front of her is an untouched bean and rice combo with a grande side of steak slices. She raises both of her immobilized arms. “I need someone to take care of me.” Then she opens her mouth, giving Kim an expectant look. After a beat, Kim scoops up some food and feeds her. Ange wiggles mightily. 

 

“Awww,” Ron looks between the two. “But, what about T and T? Is it because you weren’t invited? ‘Cause I’ll totally let you tag along.”

 

“That’s so sweet,” Ange says after she’s finished chewing. No matter what Bonnie says, she isn’t an animal and she wasn’t raised in a barn. She just likes pretending to be one. “But I really want to go to Monique’s party. All my friends are going to be there.” 

 

Bonnie, Tara, Riley, Donavan, even Max of all people. Not to mention, everyone else seems to be on a first name basis with her now. Going toe to toe with a bigfoot makes a gal pretty famous, apparently.

 

“Can’t you get one of them to help you out?” Ron asks hopefully.

 

“No,” Ange answers, not elaborating. Another pleasantly unreadable smile and stare at Ron makes him shift around. 

 

“Why not come with?” Monique says when it looks like Ron might legitimately be starting to sadden. “There’s already going to be plenty of snacks, but I can go buy an extra bag of candy just for you.”

 

“Well, when you put it that way.” Ron brightens instantly. “But you should buy three if you’re intending on feeding me.”

 

Monique’s jaw drops open. Kim is already nodding by the time she looks over for confirmation. “That’s the standard T and T haul.”

 

“Dang, okay, greedy.” Ron doesn’t even have the sense to look ashamed. He opens his mouth to say something and four notes grind everything to a speedy halt. Kim drops the forkful of beans and rice headed Ange’s way to reach into her pocket. Ange, heartbroken, can only watch it fall back onto her tray.

 

“Go, Wade,” Kim says, immediately shifting into mission mode.

 

“Hi Kim, happy Halloween.” That gets Kim to smile. Ange leans over to peek at him. He’s wearing a fruit-bat-man costume, which is a good choice. That cartoon is baller. “Something’s going down between Drakken and Killigan. An exchange of some sort of weapon that’s called The Centurion Project.”

 

“Sounds like we should go crash another kind of party,” Kim says, looking at Ron. He’s already shoving the rest of his nachos into his mouth. The Ron way of preparing to leave.

 

Ange stares at him, and realizes she just isn’t that hungry right now. 

 

“You bet. Ride is in fifteen. I’ll send you the coordinates when you’re in the air. I’m trying to find out more about this thing.” He falls silent. Ange realizes everyone has fallen silent. Kim and Ron are looking at her. Monique is too, but not with that expectant glint in her eyes. 

 

“I don’t know anything about The Centurion project,” Ange says, holding up two casted arms in surrender. “But if I haven’t heard about it, that means it’s probably really dangerous and really top secret. Maybe governmental.” She shrugs. “That’s all I can say.”

 

“It’ll have to do,” Kim leans over and smushes a kiss onto Ange’s cheek. Ange wiggles mightily. With an impressive flip, Kim bypasses Monique to land on the open floor of Bueno Nacho. “C’mon, Ron. Let’s gear up.” 

 

“You got it KP!” Ron scoops Rufus out of his cheese bath and licks some of it off his back. Ange shudders. She doesn’t even get the chance to speak before Kim runs off, Ron fast on her heels. Two girls stare at their receding figures. Monique turns to Ange, Ange turns to Monique. They share equal looks of disgust.

 

“Did that boy just lick his naked mole rat?” Monique asks.

 

“Remember yesterday, and how you didn’t want to know what I was thinking?” Monique nods. “I don’t want to think about that anymore, either.”

 

Beautiful and elegant, Monique sits back in her booth. She stares at her meal. “You know, Ange,” Monique says after a moment of silence. Ange waits patiently for Monique to continue. “I think that’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.”

Chapter 90: Chapter 88

In the middle of a decent restaurant, Shego picks up the suitcase and slams it between two of the world's most dangerous super villains. One of them is a mind capable of creating some of the most unhinged, violent machines she’s ever seen in her life. 

 

The other one is really good at golf. 

 

“Let’s just make the trade and get out of here,” Shego says, glaring at the two men sitting on the floor. “We’ve got places to be.”

 

“Shego!” Drakken says with an unhappy gruff. “We were just about to haggle.”

 

“And I do love to haggle!” Duff Killigan says, rubbing his hands together. 

 

Putting two of her own hands together, Shego makes a helpless, tired motion. “Let’s grab the Centurion Project and go.” There’s probably a certain someone on the way as she speaks, and Shego would rather not speak to her ever again.

 

“Ahh, you’re a harsh one, lassie.” Duff reaches into his carry bag and pulls out… a bracelet? Shego stares as he passes it to her employer. When Drakken gets it, he frowns, then bites it like it’s gold. Drakken seems as impressed with it as she is with him.

 

“This trinket is the Centurion Project?” 

 

“Aye,” Duff says, opening up his new suitcase to count the money. “Don’t blame me that it’s a wee thingie. Blame the scientists that built it.” 

 

“And guess what,” says the girl Shego had been really hoping wouldn’t show up, “I think those scientists would really like it back.” Three villains turn in tandem to look over at Kim Possible. Kim Possible’s eyes flicker over them, land on Shego, and she waves. “Hi, Shego.”

 

Shego can’t help it, she flinches. Kim’s hand wilts, and Shego hates herself a bit more. 

 

“Enough pleasantries!” Drakken says, pointing at the redhead. “Shego, Attack!” Shego attacks. 

 

Using Drakken’s head as a spring, Shego jumps clear over him. A graceful landing puts her face first with Kim, who’s already lowered into Mantis style. 

 

“Hey, Princess,” Shego says, only letting velvet through. “Do you have to stick your nose in everything?” Her foot snaps upwards.

 

“It comes with the territory.” With a smooth motion, Kim hooks her forearm underneath Shego’s calf and guides it harmlessly over her head. What a clever girl. Kimmie’s strong, but not as strong as her. The Mantis style really is one of the best options for an opponent like Shego. 

 

Out of everyone Shego’s fought, Kim has always made her work the hardest. Shego wishes she didn’t admire that.

 

A fist sails towards Shego’s face, and Shego jabs her elbow upwards to knock it off course. A blocked knee, a countered kick, a dodged punch, and the two fall back into a familiar pattern, but it doesn’t feel the same. Shego can’t relax. Not when Kim is trying to read her emotions instead of her movements.

 

With gritted teeth, Shego punishes her for it. Her hand screams towards Kimmie’s shoulder, Kim tilts her body to the side, and Shego turns her punch into a jab, burying the tip of her elbow into Kim’s jaw. 

 

The girl’s head jerks backwards. Kim, always quick to recover, turns the momentum into a back handspring and forces distance between them. Landing on her feet, the glare she throws Shego’s way is more familiar. 

 

“You’re in the wrong business, Princess,” Shego says, smirking. “Get out before someone really hurts you.”

 

“...Is that what you want to do, Shego?” Kim asks, and instantaneously, the emotion drains off Shego’s face. Kim’s eyebrows are furrowed upwards, full of dejection, but only for a moment. She takes a breath, then nods. “Okay, fine.” 

 

Kim lunges. Years of training kick in. Instinct makes Shego grip the two hands bearing down on her. Mutant strength lets her throw Kim across the room. On the axis of her hips, Kim twists, landing two feet to the ground with the grace of a feline. 

 

“You’re going to have to up your game if you’re planning on hurting me,” Kim says, flipping her hair back over her shoulders. “That was kind of pathetic.”

 

“Ooohoho,” Shego’s hands burst into flames. “You want to play? Let’s play.” 

 

The come hither motion Kim makes with an open hand only makes her plasma burn brighter. With a powerful kick of her legs, Shego sprints across the room, leaving streaks of green behind her. Her fists sizzle and snap at the air. Kim stares her down, flinching not once. Finally, excitement starts roiling Shego’s blood. This is more like it.

 

Just as she meets her favorite opponent, Kim falls backwards onto her hands. The first punch Shego throws whiffs. Pain blooms against the meat of her bicep from the impact of the bottom of Kim’s boot. Shego ignores it to arc her next punch downwards towards Kim’s torso. Using her legs to counteract Shego’s amazing strength, Kim snakes her second leg around Shego’s arm. 

 

There’s enough time to notice Kim clench her jaw before Kim moves. With the little leverage Kim has, she pulls, forcing Shego to over extend. Bright green eyes go wide. Kim pushes up with her hands, leaving the floor entirely. She flexes her abdominals, curling around Shego’s extended arm. With added weight, Shego tenses every muscle in her body to avoid tipping over.

 

“KP!” Ron shouts, ruining the moment. Out of the corner of her electric eye, Shego watches Ron grab a plate from a nearby waiter. With accuracy she didn’t know he had, Ron hucks it, intercepting a golf ball careening right for them. The ball pings off it, shattering the plate. Somehow, as if within a cartoon, it bounces off the ceiling, off the wall, onto the floor, then back onto the ceiling. 

 

Then it fucking explodes. Shego is going to murder Duff for that. 

 

The ceiling starts to crumble. Then cracks start forming around the entire building. 

 

“Oh shit!” Shego says. Kim, attached to her arm, squeaks. Incredible reflexes let Shego leap backwards and miss the slab of concrete by only a second. She forces her free hand to the sky, blasting the next one into dust. A rush of hot air catches her hair, forcing it out of her eyes. Kim unclamps from her arm. Smart girl.

 

“Time to go, Princess!” Shego says.

 

“Way ahead of you!” Kim says, dodging between falling rubble. Ron is already out of the building. 

 

“EEK!” Drakken says. While the building is falling around them, he’s wiggling mightily. Shego twists her torso, bringing both her hands together to snipe what’s probably a ton of concrete about to collide with his head.

 

“Now is not the time for games-” Shego’s snarl cuts itself off. Rufus, the naked, pink freak that he is, pops his head out from Drakkens collar. Shego stops short to stare as the little guy (actually a little guy, for once) scampers down Drakken’s arm and bites his gloved hand. Drakken, the not little guy, screams like one. 

 

“EEEEEEK!” he says, letting go of the Centurion Project. Rufus grabs it in his weird, mole rat mouth, then flings himself into the air. Like they coordinated it, Kim flips over a hunk of concrete and catches him. 

 

“Good job, Rufus,” Kim says like the goody two shoes she is. She’s already dipping and weaving her way out of the building. For safe keeping, she places the bracelet around her wrist. 

 

If Shego didn’t have an employer to worry about, she would have been outside waiting for her.

 

If Shego didn’t have an employer to worry about she wouldn’t be in this mess in the first place. She’s going to murder Drakken for that.

 

Flexibility, strength, agility, instinct all build upon each other. Shego is beside him a moment later, throwing her arms over the man. Another ton of concrete falls, crushing the pair (and Duff, that asshole) underneath it. It’s like being hit with a train. The wind knocks itself out of her lungs, they all fall to the ground.

 

Shego’s been hit by a train before. The worst thing about it is the pain. That’s the only downside. 

 

She grunts. Mutant strength means she can push the thing off of them, even if it’s a bit on the heavy side. It shifts, then rises, then topples over with a heavy thunk that rattles the ground. The last of the building’s dust settles around them. Shego frowns. The men let out pitiful groans, not nearly as durable as she.

 

Kimmie is gone.

 

“The next time we do a trade,” Shego says, grabbing the back of Drakken’s collar. Easily, she pulls him up into the air. His feet scramble underneath him, finding purchase only on the air, “I do the talking. Kapeesh?”

 

“But Shego!” Drakken says, stopping his flailing to give her a big eyed stare. “I love talking.” 

 

Shego opens her fist, suddenly very tired. Drakken falls to the floor with an ‘oomph! Owie!’ that only makes her feel a little better. She pinches the bridge of her nose, vainly trying to stop an oncoming headache. Adopting her most scathing, bitter tone, she opens her mouth and speaks.

 

“Unfortunately, I know.”

 

---

 

The black leather strap loosens, then unwinds from her neck. For the first time in weeks, Ange doesn’t have a bell on her, threatening to play its song. Cold air hits sensitive skin. It’s an alien feeling, and she can’t even rub her throat to alleviate it. 

 

Kim places the collar on top of the towel lined tray Ange had prepared in advance. Ange stares at it, then at Kim’s newest accessory. The Centurion Project. Apparently, it sealed itself around her sister’s wrist. Their dad already took a look at it, but as soon as Ange had working arms again, she was definitely going to try and take her own crack at the thing.

 

“And what does this do again?” Kim says, picking up a different kind of collar. Ange tilts her chin upwards, letting Kim snap it around her neck. The chassis is white metal, with an inlay that glows blue once it detects the electrical impulses travelling between her brain and spine. 

 

“Well, the short of it is that it’s a consciousness transferring device.” There’s a buzz at the back of her mind. Carefully, Ange stands up. When nothing adverse happens, she smiles. “I could tell you the long of it, but we’d miss the party if I did that.” 

 

Kim rolls her eyes, fond and warm. “Thank you for sparing me. Now, what exactly are you, uh, conscious transferring too.”

 

The smile on Ange’s face becomes mischievous. She walks over and, using her teeth, pulls a giant, white sheet away from an empty vat. She grips the handle to the entrance of it with her mouth and lets it swing open. 

 

“Remember what I said I was going to be for Halloween?” Ange asks, stepping inside of the chamber. When she looks back up, Kim is watching her with a very odd expression on her face. “What- what is it?”

 

“Sorry,” Kim says, grimacing. “Those just remind me of DNAmy’s experiments.”

 

‘Oh,” Ange says. The creator of the himpalo, the creature both she and Kim fought. Despite her edited strength, she still came out of it broken. If not for Bonnie, she wouldn’t have come out of it at all. 

 

Kim’s arm has already healed. Ange doesn’t let any emotion show until she’s sure she won’t give anything away.

 

“I’d love to meet her one day,” Ange finally says. Kim pulls another face.

 

“Absolutely not. If any of my other villains offer you an internship, I’ll go feral.” Ange grins at those words.

 

“That’s my job.”

 

“What does that even mean?”

 

“I’ll show you.” Ange hops up to the top of the tall vat, grabbing the breathing apparatus with her jaw. “Come help me with this?” she says from around the respirator. With a raised eyebrow, Kim steps inside the vat and helps secure it around Ange’s face. 

 

It feels like she’s been muzzled, which is, maybe, fitting for the situation. 

 

“Thanks,” Ange says, because she’s polite. Her voice comes out muffled. “Please press the enter key on my computer.”

 

“Are you sure this is safe?” Kim asks instead. Ange blinks, then flexes the muscles of her jaw and mouth. Sensing no openings for liquid to spill through, she nods.

 

“Entirely. Even if there’s a failure in the system, it will automatically transfer me back to this body.” 

 

Kim raises her other eyebrow. Ange sighs.

 

“It’ll make sense once this is complete.”

 

“Alright,” Kim steps backwards out of the chamber. She closes it, making sure it’s secure. “But if this is another genome editing thing, I’m telling mom,” Kim says from the other side of the glass. Ange rolls her eyes. There’s no way she’s doing that again. She likes having access to her laboratory way too much. 

 

Satisfied with Ange’s reaction, Kim turns around and presses the enter button.

 

Immediately, thick and viscous fluid falls from a pipe at the top of the vat chamber. It oozes up around her toes, then legs, then waist. Since it’s the exact temperature of her body, it feels pleasantly warm. When it reaches the upper side of her respirator, Ange closes her eyes, but the transfer doesn’t happen until her software detects the entire vat is filled. It means she feels her feet leave the floor. Her body floats in the fluid meant to keep her warm, hydrated, fed, and safe. The glowing blue inlay on her collar flashes thrice, and her mind goes somewhere else.

 

When her eyes open again, the world is so clear and vivid she flinches. Fluid splashes against the top of her vat. The software, sensing movement, begins draining it out of a grate in the bottom. Ange waits for it to ebb down to her chest before she rips the respirator off her new face. 

 

She flinches again. Her new hands are huge, lined with thick padding along the inner side, tipped with sharp claws and covered in copper brown fur. Scent fills her nose. The fluid smells metallic, her fur smells like musk, over-toned with some kind of chocolate and spice. Is that her own natural scent? 

 

Noise is suddenly deafening. Even the dripping of the remnants of vat fluid into the pipe below her sounds clear in the giant ears on top of her head. Ange reaches forwards and opens up the secondary vat. Something foreign at the bottom of her spine starts moving. She can use her arms again!

 

She uses her hands - too much like a paw to be a hand, too much like a hand to be a paw - to pull the white sheet off the vat she’s currently in and steps out into open air. 

 

“Oh,” Ange growls, then flinches at the tone of her voice. “This is ferociously weird.” It’s throaty and guttural. It’s the voice of the animal.

 

“Angie!?” Kim says. Ange twists her head to look at her. She’s on two feet, crouched and tensed like a startled kitten. Ange purposefully made herself nine feet tall, with a natural hunch that shortened her to seven. From this height, calling Kim a kitten is a very apt descriptor. “What the heck?!”

 

“You’re so cute!” Ange says. That foreign feeling at her spine gets much stronger. Somehow, Ange manages to look away from her adorable, eensy-weensy, cutie patootie, literally-a-little sister to observe the source of this feeling.

 

A tail! A wagging tail! Ange laughs in wonder. A working, wagging tail! 

 

“I’m a werewolf!” Ange says, spreading her long arms to either side of her. “Happy Halloween!” 

 

“Wha-” Kim says intelligently, craning her neck up and up for a better look. It must be a sight. Ange had tried to go as classic as she could, though the genome editing of this body was a bit harder to do. Making a new species (could she even classify this as that? Technically, she could, ah… reproduce, but she’s not sure if it would be with a human or a wolf or both - and honestly, she doesn’t want to test out the wolf option at all. Or the human option, now that she’s thinking about it. Whatever spawn would come out would be something monstrous indeed) required some incredibly fine tuning.

 

Her body is mostly humanoid. A huge head is held atop broad shoulders by strong, long neck muscles. Her limbs are both limber and powerful, even compared to her other body. A torso that’s thick at the top and tapered at the bottom is supported by two digitigrade legs. Her mouth is full of long teeth. Her body is covered in fur the color of her hair. Kim gapes for a long while.

 

“Woah,” Kim says as she recovers. Ange grins, accidentally baring fangs. She only notices when Kim reaches over to tug at one. The biggest ones are longer than Kim’s longest fingers. “That is ferociously cool.”

 

“Right?!” Ange says, letting Kim jerk her head a little. “I figured, why not go all out this holiday? I don’t usually celebrate.” 

 

“Can you make me one?” Kim asks, letting go of a fang to scratch underneath Ange’s snout. 

 

Every single thought in Ange’s head stops. As naturally as a human stands on two legs, Ange drops onto all fours, bringing her closer to her sister. Her head goes limp, bringing Kim down with a yelp. 

 

“More,” Ange huffs, rubbing her jaw against Kim’s hand. “Gimme!”

 

“Hey!” Kim says, glaring. She does keep scritching though, which is very, very nice of her. This feels so good. “Angie, you’re getting goop on me. Gross.” 

 

“Huh-oh.” Right. Her fur is still matted by vat fluid. Ange sheepishly sits back onto her haunches - a super weird, comfortable way to sit in this body. “Sorry. That felt lovely.” She gets why dogs like being patted so much now. 

 

Kim gives her an unimpressed stare. Goop covers her entire shirt and lap. Instinctively, Ange’s ears fold back against her head in guilt. Moving muscles she’s never had before is a feeling so odd, she wishes she could start recording the sensation. 

 

If she paused this moment to do that, Kim would probably kick her butt. 

 

“Alright, doggy. Let’s give you a bath,” Kim says, getting back to her feet.

 

“Sounds like a plan.” Ange gets back to her feet, then pauses. She’s too big to fit in the shower, even the one in the master bedroom. “Uhm… How?” Kim smiles at her, baring her fangs. A sudden foreboding makes Ange shrink backwards.  

 

“Kim?” Ange asks, trying to make her voice sound small. It kind of works, if a yip could be considered small. Kim smiles at her. A tail tucks itself between Ange’s legs. “Kimberly?”

 

Kim just smiles at her, and she doesn’t stop.

 

---

 

“Aaawoooooo!” Ange howls into the afternoon air. Kim tilts her hand, adjusting the aim of the hose that’s set cruelly onto blast. “Awoooghghguoughghuoughgl,” Ange garbles into a face full of hose water.

 

The tail between her legs stays there. Water falls in waterfalls off of every inch of fur on her body. For some stupid reason, Ange edited out the undercoat for this werewolf. She’d been worried about being too warm (and she still felt really warm before Kim started hosing her down like a dog in their backyard). Now, she’s too cold! 

 

Big, puppy eyes try to stare at Kim, begging for mercy. Backyard hose water splashes into them. Ange twists like a dying animal, whining. Her ears pin themselves to her head. 

 

“Awoo!” Ange yells out into the sky. Her sister tilts her hand, and the hose sprays directly into her open mouth. “Glglhgghgugh!” 

 

“Hahahahahaha!” Kim laughs into the afternoon air. Green eyes squint shut. Kim’s head falls backwards. “Hahahahaha!” The sound sends shivers down Ange’s spine. It’s probably the water, actually. Whatever, that’s not important. 

 

Kim is a villain, Ange (accurately) concludes. The most evil of all the villains in the entire world. 

 

Chapter 91: Chapter 89

Notes:

I have some super quick sketches of Angie's werewolf form at the bottom of this chappy <3 enjoy

When Kim steps out of their walk-in closet, she looks like a princess. Literally, she’s dressed up as a princess. She has a long, flowing pink dress, a beautiful pink tiara in her hair, and some poofy sleeves that Ange really wants to squish underneath her paws. Kim looks down, smoothing out the fabric of her skirt nervously.

 

“What do you think?” Kim says, doing a little twirl. The dress fans out around her in elegant motion.

 

“Beautiful,” Ange says in her new, growly voice. If she had more time, she would have fine tuned her vocal cords, but she must work with what she is given. Her lips curl into a roguish smirk. “A princess?” Satisfyingly, Kim goes bright red.

 

“Shut it, Ange.” Kim narrows her eyes. “It’s just a coincidence.”

 

“It’s just a coincidence that you’re dressed up as your crush’s favorite pet name for you?”

 

“Yes!” Kim says, neither of them believing it. She bunches up her skirt in her fists, staring down at the floor. One of Ange’s ears tilts to the side. 

 

“You met her today, right?” Kim nods. “...I take it, that didn’t go very well?”

 

“No,” Kim says, walking over to flop her face against Ange’s fur, which Ange can’t blame her for. Since drying off from Kim’s cruel hosing, Ange had puffed up into a ball of fluff. She’s very soft right now. “She didn’t want to talk about it.” Kim’s voice comes out muffled. Ange lets out a little chuffing coo, easily wrapping her sister up with one arm. 

 

“You two did have intercourse under the influence,” Ange says, feeling guilty. She’s at least fifty percent responsible for that. It was also inside a giant potato. She could bring that up another time. “The age gap is, er, what do the teens call it, problematic?” 

 

“You’re a teen too, Ange,” Kim grumps out. Ange shrugs. Maybe she is, but relating with her peers is still a task she hasn’t mastered. “It’s whatever. I’ll deal with it.”

 

Without a single thought, Ange leans her neck down and gives Kim’s forehead a tiny little lick. A wolf kiss. These animal instincts are incredibly potent, much more so than her human instincts. She’ll have to get a handle on that. 

 

“For what it’s worth,” Ange says, snuffling against her hair. Kim smells nice. Like strawberry and kiwi shampoo, and a bit like sweat in a pleasantly human way. “I think whoever you end up dating is going to be one of the luckiest people in the world.” 

 

“Thanks,” Kim says, peeking an eye out from Ange’s fuzzy torso. “You too, Angie. You’re a real catch.” Ange smiles, accidentally flashing teeth again. It’s a nice sentiment that she can’t bring herself to believe.

 

“By the way,” Kim melts against her side. Ange is almost jealous of her. Ange is likely very comfy in this form. “If you’re, like, a werewolf, why are you wearing shorts?”

 

“Oh,” Ange says. It’s a good question. Werewolves in media don’t often wear clothing.  Ange’s body, as powerful as it is, is also covered in a layer of fur that covers her skin. She doesn’t need to wear a shirt (in fairness, this form has no breasts, only pectorals), or even shoes. She’s got on a pair of denim shorts that she had to grow herself out of a denim shorts plant. It’s already fruiting another pair on a shelf in the far side of her laboratory space. “I don’t want anyone to see my testicles.”

 

“What?” Kim goes stiff.

 

“I used the DNA of a boy wolf,” Ange says. Kim’s mouth falls wide open. 

 

“Why?!”

 

“Well…” Ange thinks back to her little adventure at the Middleton zoo so long ago. 

 

---

 

She drops into the enclosure. Her collar chimes. Ange almost lets out a curse, except she’s too polite for that. Several pairs of eyes train on her. 

 

“...Hi puppies.” Ange says, smiling nervously underneath the mask around her face. She locks gazes with the nearest, biggest one. Two intelligent, yellow eyes watch her, entirely impossible to read. Slowly, a few of the canines in front of her pull themselves to their pawed feet. “Nice night, don’t you think?” 

 

It really is a nice night. There is no moon. The only lights are up outside the large enclosure, illuminating the pathways in dim, orange light. The air is cool, but not cold. Night birds sing their songs.

 

The largest one lets out a huff of air through its large snout. Carefully, the other wolves fan out around her, circling her.  It’s horrifying, but also fascinating and beautiful. Excitement leaves Ange breathless. 

 

A plan forms in her mind. Deliberately, Ange looks at the three wolves circling behind her. They’re huge, with heads that level with her shoulders. Social predators of the highest degree.

 

Then she jumps high, letting the first wolf lunge safely underneath her. Snarls rip out from beside her. Her feet touch the ground. Three large jaws hang open, closing in. Ange holds her arms out in front of her with open palmed hands, and lets her Shifu’s teachings take control.

 

Her forearm hooks underneath a jaw, she sweeps it to the side with more effort than anticipated. These creatures are heavy and powerful. A heavy, powerful body pushes into its packmate with a startled bark. Ange steps into the newly opened space, dodging past the third wolf. Intentionally, she kept her back to it, already watching the recovered, largest wolf. The way the creature can land on its front paws, dig its back ones into the ground, and reverse direction with both grace and speed almost makes her forget to move. Almost. 

 

She reaches into her belt, pulling out a knife sharper than any razor. As the large wolf pounces towards her, Ange steals a move from Kim and executes a single-handed sidespring. Upside down, she presses the knife just above the muscle of a beast larger and heavier than she. A tuft of fur puffs out into the air. Her hips continue leading her legs in their arc until her feet touch dirt. 

 

In a single movement, Ange sheathes her knife with one hand, grabs a few strands of fur out of the air with the other, and continues her flips until she reaches the steep walls keeping the wolves in and (supposedly) keeping people out. She jumps as high as she can, then scrambles up the rest of the way as sharp teeth snap below her feet.

 

Maybe this wasn’t her smartest idea in the entire world. At least no one is around to see her-

 

“Hey!” Someone yells as Ange struggles over the railing. She snaps her head to the side, and a security guard points a flashlight at her. “What the hell are you doing?!”

 

“Eek!” Ange yells, then turns to the side and takes off sprinting along winding corridors and disappearing into the night. 

 

---

 

“...I didn’t really get the chance to be picky.”

 

Kim gives her a disbelieving, half lidded, unimpressed stare. It slowly morphs into something thoughtful. “Angie, do you want to be a guy?” That’s certainly a question. Ange tilts her long chin to the sky.

 

“No, I don’t think so.” She should build a beam that turns people into boys. A boy beam. Then she could test it scientifically. “Not menstruating would be incredibly convenient, however.” Maybe she could build a body that doesn’t do that and switch off on those particular days. The boy beam could take care of that, actually.

 

“Okay, fair.” Kim nods in agreement. She extracts herself from Ange’s grasp, eyeing her up and down with great care. Ange observes her for a moment.

 

“Yes, it feels very weird to have testes and a phallus. No, I haven’t urinated yet. Nor have I had time to perform other tasks,” Ange says. Kim goes bright red, and Ange’s amusement is expressed with a tail bonking against the floor. 

 

“Ange, stop being gross.”

 

“It’s okay to be curious.” Daggers materialize out of Kim’s eyes and shoot towards her. Thankfully, Ange’s wolf form lets her dodge every one of them. “They’re just bodily functions-”

 

“Angie!” Kim says, placing her fists on her hips. “If you keep talking about this, I’ll spray you with the hose again.”

 

“Not the hose!” Ange says, hopping onto all fours and tucking her tail between her legs. Her body shivers with fear. “I’ll be good!” A loud, pitiful dog’s whine escapes her throat then strangles itself into silence half way through. Two sisters blink at each other. Kim didn’t know Ange could do that. Ange didn’t know Ange could do that either.

 

“Okay, no hose.” Kim says, holding up her hands. The ears on Ange’s head unpin themselves. “I didn’t think it was that traumatic.”

 

“Let me hose you down naked in our backyard and you can tell me,” Ange snarks. Kim has the decency to wince, so Ange forgives her. 

 

She pads over on all four (such an odd, comfortable feeling. Maybe Bonnie’s right, and she is an animal) and butts her snout against Kim’s cheek. Then she slides a giant, wet tongue out and licks the entire side of Kim’s face.

 

“Ange!” Kim squeals, jumping backwards. “Ew! Oh, gross!” Barking, yipping laughter shakes Ange’s massive frame. 

 

“C’mon,” Ange says, ignoring Kim’s narrowed and dangerous eyes. “Go wash your face, then let's go to the party. I’ll even give you a ride.”

 

“A ride?” Kim says, heading towards their bathroom. “But you can’t ride your bike in that form, can you?”

 

“No,” Ange says. She’s so heavy right now, she’d crush it if she tried. “But I can do something way more fun.” When Kim turns to her, curious, Ange grins a wolfish grin in all senses of the word.

 

---

 

“Okay, Monique,” Bonnie murmurs, staring up at the house, “you go girl.” 

 

It’s amazing. Decorations line the lawn. Skeletons posed to crawl towards the entrance. The grim reaper, holding a plastic scythe, stands at the doorway, poised to bring down death upon all those who enter, or whatever dramatic thing Monique is going for. Music thumps a heavy beat inside. Flashing lights occasionally brighten up the windows through cracks in drawn curtains. 

 

Beside her, Tara lets out noises of delight, hopping up and down. Bonnie turns to watch her. The bunny ears on top of Tara’s head bounce up and down. The bodysuit hugging Tara’s curves only accentuate other assets that also bounce. Bonnie grins, hooking her arm around Tara’s. This one is hers.

 

“OMG, this is going to be so fun,” Tara says, pulling Bonnie towards the doorway. Her hand touches the handle when the sound of rapidly approaching laughter draws Bonnie’s attention away. She knows that laugh, she would recognize that laugh anywhere. That laugh is Kim Possible’s laugh, which means that she is, unfortunately, having a good time. Bonnie turns around to see what the fuss is about and she freezes in place.

 

A giant dog sprints down the street towards them. No, a giant dog is an understatement. On four legs, it’s about as tall as a big car. Sprinting is an understatement too. It moves so quickly, it looks like it’s flying. One moment, it’s on the other side of the block, the next, it’s already at the house.

 

“What the hell?!” Bonnie yelps, voice cracking half way through. Tara turns around and squeaks.

 

The dog lands on its front paws and skids to a stop so quickly, its back end swings around itself. Claws dig into the concrete sidewalk. Kim Possible keeps laughing, riding on top of it like a fucking horsie.

 

“Hi girls!” Kim says. The beast lowers itself onto its stomach, letting Kim slide off of it with a graceful sweep of her legs. She has a cheesy pink dress on, and a cheesier pink tiara in her hair. Of course she’d dress up as a princess. “Happy Halloween.”

 

“Hi Kim,” Tara says. Nervously, she points a dainty finger at the… thing that has gotten up to sit on its haunches. “Is that safe?”

 

“I’m very safe,” the thing growls. No, it’s not a growl, it just comes out as a growl, like velvet on gravel. “I’d never hurt you, Tara.” 

 

Why does it know her name?

 

Tara and Bonnie clearly have the same thought. They exchange a glance, then go back to staring as pieces of the puzzle click into place. Copper brown fur. An extra, familiar swooping  fringe over familiar blue eyes. The fact that Kim rode her in like a steed. 

 

“Angie?” Bonnie says. Angie smiles, lips pull back against long, sharp, deadly teeth. Some kind of electricity jolts up Bonnie’s spine.

 

“Hi!” Ange says. Her tail starts wagging behind her, which is pretty cute, actually. Bonnie bites her lip. “Happy Halloween, ladies.” Blue eyes look up and down her form. Tara’s obviously dressed as the playboy bunny. Sexy is in, and she’s sexy as hell. Bonnie is too. With a black leotard, black garters, a black tail that hangs behind her and cat ears on a headband securing her hair, she’s pulled off sexy cat with ease. “You two look really nice.”

 

It’s hard to read the emotion in Ange’s eyes. Like, really hard. They have the same shape and color of her human form, but an entirely different feeling to them. More animalistic or primal or alien, and yet, Bonnie swears she sees something that’s starving in them, and it makes her mouth go bone dry. 

 

“Thanks,” Bonnie croaks. She must be reading into things, because there’s no way… right?

 

“Thanks, Angie!” Tara says with a giggle. Kim gives Ange a look Bonnie can’t read, then fondly rolls her eyes. 

 

“I’m going to go hang with Monique, girls. Don’t get into too much trouble.”

 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Bonnie says out of habit. Kim rolls her eyes a second time, not fondly. Bonnie lets her step inside.

 

“Whatever, B,” Kim says on her way in. Bonnie ignores it to stare at Ange. The emotion is gone, whatever it was. Instead, a goofy grin and a wagging tail greet her. That is definitely cute. 

 

“You know, most people go out and buy some ears and a tail when they dress up as a werewolf,” Bonnie says. Ange pads towards them on all fours, throwing Bonnie a smirk that makes Bonnie huff through her nose. “Maybe some fangs. You just had to show everyone up, huh.”

 

“I’m not about to wear a bad costume,” Ange says. On all fours, she’s as tall as Tara, so, an inch taller than Bonnie. As she brushes past the two, Bonnie reaches out and buries her hand in the softest, fluffiest fur in the world. A grin spreads across her face without her permission. 

 

“Not a bad choice,” Bonnie says. Tara has the same idea as her, but more. She bends her knees, then hops as high as she can right onto Ange’s back. Ange pauses, ears perked straight up. She turns to Bonnie, unsure what to do. 

 

Her tail wags faster. That’s something to analyze. 

 

“Oh my god!” Tara says, nuzzling her face between massive shoulder blades. “This is heaven. You’re so fluffy!”

 

“Hey!” Is it jealousy at Tara or Ange that makes Bonnie furrow her brows? She doesn’t know, but she does abandon her train of thought to clamber up a giant, powerful body. “Move over, I want a turn.” Tara doesn’t move, which is rude, even if they are dating. Thankfully, Ange’s shoulders are very broad, giving her back enough width to support them both.

 

“Girls?” Ange whimpers, frozen in place. “Uhm, what are you doing?”

 

“Shush,” Bonnie orders, rubbing her face against some of the softest fur she’s ever felt. It smells like chocolate, woodspice, and the musk of a freshly cleaned animal. She runs her hands against Ange’s coat over and over again, reveling in the texture and warmth radiating off of her. 

 

“You’re our couch now,” Bonnie decides. Tara starts shaking beside her, laughing silently. A wide grin curls Bonnie’s mouth upwards.

 

“What does that even mean?” Ange asks, whining like the dog she is.

 

“Couches don’t talk,” Bonne reminds her. She sits up, arranging herself as elegantly as one can on the back of an actual werewolf. “Take us inside. I want snacks.”

 

“Oh,” Ange says. Bonnie pokes her. “Sorry- shoot- sorry- I mean- augh- sorry!” Her jaw snaps shut with an audible click of teeth. Bonnie’s lip twitches. Tara snorts, then lets herself dissolve into giggles that spill out of her like soda bubbles. Bonnie eyes her fondly as their couch starts padding inside. A wonderful, considerate couch that is clearly trying not to jostle them too much. Bonnie reaches over and rubs one of Ange’s ears. They’re as soft as satin. 

 

“Good girl,” Bonnie purrs. She can feel every muscle in Ange’s tense like a piano wire beneath her. A giant head tilts just enough that a single, blue eye stares up at her. The expression in it is undecipherable. What a curious reaction.

 

“Well, don’t stop.” Bonnie gestures with her head for Ange to continue. “I’m hungry.” 

 

Silently, Ange looks straight ahead and starts sniffing her way to the kitchen. Satisfied at another order well executed, Bonnie props herself with a hand and leans back. The crowd falls silent, parting around them and staring. Bonnie gives them big, smug smirks and a little flutter of her fingers. She’ll do some proper rounds later. 

 

Tara is watching her. Bonnie raises a questioning eyebrow. Tara sits up, then rests her forearm atop Bonnie’s shoulder and leans in close so her lips just brush against the shell of Bonnie’s ear. 

 

“You should call me that too, sometime,” Tara whispers. Heat floods Bonnie’s cheeks swiftly. It falls all the way down her neck. Tara is staring at her so intently neither of them notice how Ange’s ears swivel backwards, listening. 

 

“I’ll think about it,” Bonnie mumbles. An adorable, satisfied smile brightens Tara’s beautiful face. If they weren’t in public, Bonnie would kiss her. She looks around. There are eyes on them. Lots of eyes, but-

 

Bonnie cups her hands around the side of Tara’s face, as if about to whisper her a secret. She lets her lips brush against a soft cheek. The quickest, softest kiss she can manage before she pulls away. Bright blue eyes, like the sky on a summer’s day, watch her, wide open. A pink flush paints Tara’s cheeks and nose, and that alone is worth it. The shy, pleased smile that starts forming on Tara’s lips is a bonus.

 

Tara places her hand on the flat of Ange’s back. Bonnie rests hers beside Tara’s. Their smallest fingers brush up against each other. Bonnie’s heart adopts a rabbit beat pulse. Happiness blooms underneath Bonnie’s ribcage and it’s a feeling she’s finally starting to get acquainted with. It’s a feeling she never wants to let go of.

 

---

 

\

Chapter 92: Chapter 90

It turns out, when it comes to the party scene, Ron is really good at it. Kim watches in bemusement as Ron, shirtless, wearing the butt part of the horsie costume, dunks his head all the way up to his shoulders in the apple bobbing tank. It’s not actually full of apples. Kim just pretends it is to make herself feel better. Ron surfaces with a fierce splash, two tiny bottles of alcohol clenched between his teeth. Riley, Clover, Madison, and Peter all let out whoops. Ron uncaps both of them, then tilts his head back and chugs them at the exact same time.

 

Kim sighs. She wishes he wouldn’t drink. She wishes there wasn’t alcohol at the party. When she’d mentioned that to Monique, the girl had placed a hand on her shoulder and given her a sad look. “We have got to get you out more.”

 

Kim likes to think she gets out plenty, if getting out means traveling the world, saving the world, punching bad guys, and punching a really beautiful older woman she can’t stop thinking about. An older woman that doesn’t seem to want to acknowledge that they had, uh, intercourse. 

 

Dejection weighs her shoulders to the ground. She leans back on the couch, trying not to let it show on her face, but she isn’t an expert at hiding her emotions, not like Angie is. 

 

“You good, girl?” Monique says, sitting next to her with a solo cup and a slice of pizza in hand. 

 

“No,” Kim finally admits, flopping to the side against Monique’s shoulder. Monique grunts, making Kim remember she’s like, way heavier than a girl her size should be (and she still wasn’t going to let Ange look at her genome. Yet.). She tries to pull away when Monique wraps an arm around her shoulder and keeps her there. 

 

“The doctor is in,” Monique says, smiling a pretty smile. Kim melts a little, wondering how she stumbled on a friend as kind as her. “Spill, lady. I’m all ears.”

 

“Promise not to freak?” 

 

Monique raises an eyebrow. They have a small staring contest that Kim makes sure to win. With a sigh, Monique nods. “Okay, no freakage. Less moping, more yapping.”

 

“Shego and I... uhm, well,” Kim says, trying and failing to not stutter. Thankfully, thankfully, Monique has something called tact. 

 

“Wow,” Monique says, gaping. “Isn’t she way older than you?”

 

“We were under the influence of a beam.” 

 

Monique nods. That does kind of explain everything. It’s still kind of pathetic, now that Kim says it out loud. The only reason her crush even touched her is because she wasn’t in her right mind. Even if, technically, she was in the most right mind one could be in. “And, and, it was nice. It was really, really nice. But- she doesn’t even-” Kim blinks rapidly, then wipes her eyes. There’s no way she’s about to cry at her first ever house party.

 

“She wants to pretend like it didn’t happen.”

 

“That’s fair.”

 

Kim flinches, then turns her disbelieving eyes onto one of her closest friends.

 

“Girl,” Monique says, side-eying her, but with sympathy, “you just told me you two had sex,” Kim goes very red, “while Shego couldn’t make rational decisions. Do you think she even wants to remember that?”

 

Kim goes very pale. 

 

A sinking feeling in her chest. A shallow breath, because breathing is almost impossible right now. Dread makes Kim’s fingertips go bone cold. The corners of her eyes sting.

 

“Don’t blame yourself. You were out of your mind too.” 

 

She wasn’t. Kim wanted it. She-

 

“Girl,” Monique squeezes an arm around her shoulder, nice and tight. “Just apologize next time you see her. If she’s not an asshole, you can clear everything up.” Kim doesn’t like it when people swear. Her mom and dad would always give her disappointed looks when she tested that boundary in her younger years. That was nothing compared to the dismissiveness encountered in her mama.

 

(Have some class, child. Dolores had told her once. She has brown eyes, one shade away from red. They’re cold, openly calculating, and sometimes, addictively warm and soft. I have expectations for you. )

 

So, Kim doesn’t like it when people swear. Most of the time, Monique is kind enough to not do it in front of her. She gets a pass this time, because Kim is pretty sure she’s starting to get tipsy. 

 

“If she is an asshole, drop her,”

 

“Sure, Mo’,” Kim mumbles against Monique’s shoulder. “It could be forever ‘til I see her next, though. This was the first time I’ve seen her in like, a month.”

 

“Shego’s that, uh, pale green woman, right? With the fabulous hair?”

 

“Yeah,” Kim says, nodding.

 

“She works for that scientist guy, right? Uh…”

 

“Dr. Drakken,” Kim says. Monique snaps her fingers, nodding. 

 

“Yeah, him. Blue, scar under one eye?”

 

“That’s him, yeah.” Kim tilts her head curiously, looking up at Monique. Monique isn’t looking at her, but at the doorway to the household. 

 

“Does she also work for some Scottish dude?”

 

Kim doesn’t say anything else. She gets up to her feet and turns around, fists raised. Forest and electric green eyes find each other in the crowd. A wide, dangerous grin stretches across Shego’s face.

 

“There you are, Princess-” Kim sees the exact moment Shego realizes Kim is dressed up as a literal princess. Her eyes go comically wide. All the bravado Shego has grows wings and flaps away, escaping into the sky.

 

Despite herself, a small blush forms along Kim’s cheeks. She ignores it.

 

“Shego,” Kim says, darting her eyes between Shego, Drakken, and Duff Killigan. If it was just the four of them alone in an evil lair, she wouldn’t have minded this match up. Here, it’s an entirely different story. 

 

Josh Mankey, pirate of the high seas, walks between them, followed by his band mates as they head to the staged area Monique had set up. Brick, dressed up as Frankenstein’s monster, throws his hands into the air as he sinks a ping pong ball into a red cup full of beer. Donavan (dressed as Antoine Lavoisier, not that anyone would know) is watching the game, and claps for him as Carson clicks his tongue. Carson’s wearing a tutu that actually looks kind of nice on him. The pink brings out his eyes. Clover, wearing fishnet tights over her legs, sinfully tall stilettos upon her feet, and a surprisingly realistic giant tube of toothpaste over everything else, laughs at something Peter - the headless horseman’s horse - says. Madison, the headless horseman, has an arm around her headless horseman’s horse boyfriend’s waist. 

 

There are too many people here. She needs to get outside, and she needs to do it now-

 

“Hell no!” Monique gets to her feet, fabulous cowboy hat almost falling over her eyes. “Out, all of you! You are not about to have a fist fight in my living room.” 

 

“Aach, lassie,” Duff, a man more mountainous than Brick, steps past Drakken - a tall, imposing man in his own right - and points right at Kim. “Hand over the Centurion Project and we’ll be out of ye hair.” 

 

Kim looks down at her wrist. A silver sliver of her newest accessory catches the light underneath the hem of her pink, poofy, princess dress. 

 

“You’re welcome to take it from me,” Kim says, pointing out the window. “Out there.” Shego seems content to take it outside. The two other villains share a glance. Slowly, a sinister grin pulls Drakken’s lips up over his white teeth. Kim’s fear becomes a reality as he pulls a ray gun from its holster, painted orange and yellow. Some of the teens at the party start to catch on that these aren’t costumes. Only some of them.

 

“No, I don’t think I will,” Drakken says. Duff, following suit, sets down his carry bag and grabs a golf club. 

 

“The Centurion Project,” he says, thick with accent, “or we start takin’ lives.”

 

“Seriously, guys?” Shego looks behind her, unimpressed. “Are we really using teenagers as hostages now?”

 

“Shego!” Drakken holds up one of his hands, flailing it in a circle in the air. “We’re the bad guys! Of course we’re going to take hostages.”

 

“I don’t have anything against hostages, Doc.” Shego rolls her electric green eyes. “Just, teenagers? Really? Isn’t that kind of below our pay grade.”

 

“My arch nemesis is a teenager,” Drakken points out. “What’s the difference?”

 

“She’s Kim Possible?” Shego points out. “Girl who can do anything, probably.”

 

That gets Drakken to pause. Kim kicks the toe of her shoe into the ground once, a little flattered. The shy smile she gives Shego makes Shego pause, then turn away quickly. Kim ignores the sting of rejection that pricks at her spine. She forcibly pushes herself into mission mode.

 

There are still too many people around. Kim turns to Monique to see if there’s a backdoor she can fall back to and goad them through, only to find her gone. 

 

“Girl who can do anything except wear a decent Halloween costume,” Shego, always one to be snarky, finishes snarking. 

 

Kim’s head snaps back to Shego. “Hey! This costume is spankin’!” 

 

“There will be no spankin’.” Duff says, placing down a golf ball. “Not unless yee don’ give me the project.” 

 

“There’s going to be spankin’?” Brick says from the beer pong table. He has a goofy, if somewhat hungry, grin plastered on his half drunk face. Duff looks at him, bewildered. “Fuck yeah! Who are we spankin’?”

 

“No one is spanking anyone,” Drakken says, starting to get frustrated. “All we want is the Centurion Project and we’ll-”

 

“Hey, don’t bring up school work at parties,” Max says, poking his head out of the kitchen. “That’s a major party foul, man!” 

 

“Yeah!” Riley says. Several other people start agreeing with him. Drakken looks out at the mass of grumpy, slightly drunk teenagers, and seems dumbfounded. Kim and Shego make eye contact, as if to affirm if this is actually happening. It is. It is actually happening.

 

“It’s not school work, lads.” Duff says, glaring at the boy. “It’sa top secret weapon meant to build super soldiers.” 

 

“Can we just take this outside,” Kim says, rubbing her temples. “Please? Pretty please? Does a pretty please work?”

 

“No!” Drakken says.

 

“Nae!” Duff says.

 

“Let's go, Kimmie,” Shego says, heading back out the door. As she does, she presses her palm against Drakken’s shoulder, then shoves him out of the way. 

 

“Owie,” Drakken says, stumbling into a wall. “Shego, that hurt!”

 

“Don’t care,” Shego says. Drakken looks more hurt from her words than from the bruise. Kim gives him a shrug as she starts after her real arch rival. Shego’s dangerous, predatory eyes lock onto Duff Killigan, who sneers and straightens out his back.

 

“Yee want to tussle, lassie? Let’s tussle-” 

 

In tandem, like it had been preplanned, Shego and Kim draw back opposite fists. In tandem, they fly straight forwards. Two impossibly solid punches smash into Duff’s barrel of a chest, burying inwards by several inches before the rest of his body can get the memo. His torso jerks backwards. An ugly, awful wheeze scratches through his throat as every molecule of air escapes both of his lungs. His feet leave the floor with speed. His back hits the door leading outside with that same exact speed. Then his unconscious body thumps against the ground, limp. The crowd breaks out into cheers that has the two most dangerous people in the world blinking in confusion.

 

“That was SICK!” Brick says, jumping up and down. “Do you wanna join the football team?”

 

“Oh, thanks but no thanks, Brick,” Kim says, smiling shyly. “That’s not really my scene.”

 

“Aw, man.” Brick rubs the back of his neck, dejected. Then, hopeful, blue, puppy eyes turn to Shego and stare.

 

Shego’s eyelid twitches. She pushes Duff’s unconscious body to the side with her foot, and opens the front door, hoping for a speedy exit. “Not happening, dumbbell.” She waves a shooing hand at him. “Not in a million years.”

 

“My name’s Brick.”

 

“That’s perfect. I can kill you with one and your tombstone can say ‘Brick, bricked’ so whenever someone walks by they can wonder why someone would have such a stupid name-”

 

Brick actually looks hurt.

 

“Shego! Be nice,” Kim says, placing a scolding hand on Shego’s bicep. It’s warm and solid underneath her fingers. Remembering her conversation with Monique, Kim resists the urge to study this feeling more deeply. Bright green eyes stare at her hand, then Shego meets her gaze. “Can I talk to you?”

 

There must be something in her eyes, because Shego doesn’t immediately shake her off. A war is going on inside the thief’s mind. Hoping the right side wins, Kim speaks again, and her voice is as vulnerable as she’s ever heard it be.

 

“Please?” 

 

It works. Something gives inside of Shego. She turns around and steps out the door, waiting only long enough for Kim to start following her.

 

“If you make this weird, I’ll strangle you.”

 

An arm around her back, hands on her neck, teeth against her shoulder. Shego’s heavy weight above her, pinning her against a flimsy, plastic table. Kim bites the inside of her cheek, trying to forget those memories. 

 

“I won’t,” Kim mumbles, trailing behind the woman by a few steps. “Promise.” 

 

---

 

“Can you just grab a whole box?” Ange says. Bonnie almost gapes at her, but pauses. An entire box of pizza is probably a snack for a body so big.

 

“Yeah, sure.” She grabs the pepperoni with olives, because that’s Ange’s favorite. A tail wags, a snout sniffs. It’s pretty cute. 

 

“Can we go somewhere else? This place is loud.” 

 

“Yeah, Angie,” Tara coos. “Poor thing. I bet the whole world’s different.” 

 

“It really is.” The whine that Ange makes is entirely animal. Aligning this beast with the Ange she knows - tall, lanky, soft eyed and tussled - is easier than she expected. Bonnie has called her a dog more than once.

 

“Whose fault is that?” Bonnie says, reaching out to run her fingernails along Ange’s fluffy scalp. Ange chuffs out her nose, raising her head upwards so Bonnie can get a better angle. Bonnie doesn’t reward it, because she’s not about to do a petting session with Ange in the middle of Monique’s kitchen.

 

“I thought you’d think this was cool.”

 

“It totally is.” Amusingly, Ange’s ears perk straight up. Bonnie lets herself smile. Their couch starts looking for a quiet place to be. Bonnie waves goodbye to some of the teens in the kitchen, who are even more amusingly, still gaping. It’s like they’ve never seen a werewolf in person before.

 

Ange takes them up a dark staircase to the second floor, then towards a quiet, little bedroom at the farthest corner of the hallway. There’s a comfy bed, a giant beanbag, and a little stereo system that has Bonnie fishing out her Upod. The music downstairs is just fine, but Bonnie has particular tastes. 

 

While she sets that up, Tara slides off their Angie and takes a running jump, face first, into the oversized beanbag. 

 

“Mhhph mph mphhh hphmm,” Tara says intelligently. Bonnie’s eyeroll is fond and exasperated.

 

“Face up, girly,” Bonnie says, sauntering over. Tara rolls over. With a dancer’s grace, Bonnie arranges herself next to her, practically on her lap. It has Tara grinning like a loon. Bonnie drapes her forearm atop Tara’s shoulder and watches the show that is Ange trying to find a comfortable place on the floor. 

 

She circles twice, then scoots her stomach to the ground, then wiggles her limbs until they fall into a naturally comfortable position, legs tucked to the side, arms folded in front of her, and her long head resting on top of that. She sniffs at the pizza box left on the floor.

 

“Let’s tell ghost stories!” Tara says again, just as intelligently. 

 

“No,” Ange says, curling into a tight ball. “Please, I’m a total wuss. I’ll cry.” 

 

“You didn’t cry when you fought that furby,” Bonnie says. There’s an audible huff of amusement beside her. Bonnie looks over at Tara’s beautiful profile. The delicate line of her nose, with the slightest upturn at the tip, balanced lips - one of them is being nibbled on, and Bonnie is tempted to lean over and help. She’s staring, Bonnie realizes. She doesn’t care.

 

“I was scared,” Ange mumbles, deep voiced but soft. “But I had to protect you.” 

 

“Aww, you’re so brave for us, Angie.” Tara’s voice is warm, her smile is soft. Bonnie looks back at Ange before she gives in and kisses Tara, like, everywhere. 

 

The tip of Ange’s tail lifts and falls off the floor. Bonnie holds out her well maintained hand, soft skin and manicured nails. 

 

“Come here,” Bonnie says, curling a finger towards herself. Big, wet puppy eyes regard her. Ange shuffles over, and Bonnie doesn’t stop her until the chin of her wolf’s head rests against her palm. 

 

“What about you, Angie?” She guides Ange’s head to her lap. Large eyes close shut as she starts rubbing behind Ange’s ears. “What if you’d died?” Ange doesn’t answer. She doesn’t even open her eyes. Something Bonnie’s been suspecting for a long time starts whispering in her ear, and Bonnie frowns. “You know you matter, right?” 

 

Ange flinches. Worse yet, she tries to hide it. Her form betrays her, tail tucking between her legs, auricles folding down against the back of her head. Bonnie’s face drops, and she sees Tara twitch beside her. They exchange horrified glances.

 

“Angie?” Tara’s voice is small. She reaches out to touch the top of Ange’s maw. Ange almost shrinks away. Bonnie can feel the beginning of the movement through her hand. “You know we love you, right?”

 

It takes longer than Bonnie would like for Ange to speak. “I know,” she says. Finally, Ange opens her melancholy eyes. They can only meet Bonnie’s gaze for a second, flickering to her, then Tara, then to a place far away. Somewhere Bonnie can’t reach. 

 

“Ange,” a voice calls out, muffled by the distance of a long hallway and a bedroom door. Her predator’s head swivels in its socket, a motion so smooth it can’t be human. “Can you get out here please, we kinda need you, like, stat.”

 

“That’s Monique,” Ange says. She presses her front hands onto the floor and pushes onto all fours too quickly. She makes her way to, then through the bedroom door. Bonnie curses Monique in her head for giving Ange an out. 

 

---

 

When Ange pads out of the room, Monique is waiting for her at the top of the stairs. Her face is exasperated, anxious, and grave all at once. Without meaning to, Ange’s hackles raise the fur on the back of her shoulders. For some reason, Monique nods approvingly.

 

“There we go,” Monique says, taking a step to the side so Ange has better access to the downstairs. “That’s the exact energy I need. Get freaky, girly.” Ange gives her a quizzical look as she passes Monique by. “We have some party crashers. Dangerous. Party. Crashers.” 

 

A violent rumble vibrates out of Ange’s chest. She steps down the shaded corridor, and the view at the bottom is certainly curious. The front door is open. Kim’s scent is still hanging in the air, but its freshness leads out the door. A large, unconscious man lays largely and unconsciously on the ground. Dr. Drakken is standing awkwardly in the foyer, a ray gun held in one hand. He’s having a conversation with Donavan?

 

For once, Angelus is happy to see Brick hovering protectively some feet away.

 

“So, your world conquest plans typically consist of a death ray and..?” Donavan says, hands behind his back. 

 

“Well, it’s not just the death ray,” Drakken says, gesturing with both arms. The ray gun in his hand circles dangerously in the air. “You also need the right target, and a proper message to send to the world leaders.” A pause. “And a laugh,” Drakken adds. “No one is going to take you seriously if you don’t have a proper evil laugh.”

 

“It’s that important?” 

 

“Oh, sort of.” Drakken’s lips slowly curl upwards. His voice drops into a purr. “The laugh is the icing on the cake. The most important part about being villainous is doing villainous things.” The instincts in Ange activate. Her snout wrinkles so with her anger, the muscles there ache. “For instance,” Drakken says, holding his ray gun up to Donavan. Brick’s hands curl into meaty fists. “Taking out the right target-”

 

“Drakken,” a growl of a voice says, deep and loud enough to cut underneath the music playing on the stereo. Josh Mankey, pirate of the high seas, reaches over and shuts it off. Everyone turns to see the source of the voice. 

 

Quiet as a mouse, graceful as a feline, the silhouette of a creature makes its way down the last of the dark, indoor steps of Monique’s home. Teeth longer than Kim’s fingers flash with each syllable. Blue eyes catch and refract light back outwards. Monique steps out of the shadows, hands on her hips. The creature doesn’t, content to sit on the last step. Only the tips of large, clawed paws touch the light. “You should go.”

 

“And what are you supposed to be,” Drakken says, clearly unimpressed. Maybe he needs a better look.

 

“A predator,” Angelus says with a controlled snarl. On four legs, she steps forwards with deliberation movement - the way a wolf would stalk towards prey. 

 

“Hm.” Drakken, one of the most dangerous minds in the world, clearly doesn’t grasp the situation he is in. “Yes, yes,” he says, waving his free hand dismissively. “Happy Halloween.” 

 

Angelus continues her walk into the foyer. As she gets within touching distance, she pushes off with her front arms, standing taller and taller with each step. “It’s a nice costume.” Drakken’s black, beady eyes track her as Ange pulls herself as high as the room allows. Eight feet. The top of her head brushes against the bottom of the ceiling. “But it’s really not all that.” 

 

Deliberately, Ange lifts her paw and places it on Drakken’s arm. Even when he struggles, it’s easy to push it down, drawing the gun away from her favorite boy. Donavan finally unfreezes, taking a shaky step backwards. 

 

Drakken looks at the arm that was forcibly pushed to his side. Ange leans her head down so it’s level with the mad scientist, timing it perfectly. Drakken looks back up to make dreadful eye contact with her. She huffs out warm breath through her nose, jostling some of the hair pushed back from his face.

 

“I know a mask when I see one,” Drakken says. Ange lets him grab the fur on the underside of her jaw and tug. Nothing happens. Drakken tugs again. Angelus stares at him, blank and unreadable. He tugs harder. The expression on his face starts to break, just a little.

 

Drakken holsters his weapon. Using both hands and all of his strength, he grabs the fur lining Ange’s head and yanks backwards. Her head doesn’t pop off, revealing a human face underneath. Black eyes slowly widen. They flick up to meet hers. Drakken pulls again, and it’s desperate. 

 

“Er..” Drakken says. “That’s not a mask, is it?” Angelus shakes her head side to side. Her potential mentor swallows audibly, then smiles nervously. “Shall we let bygones be bygones?”

 

“SCRAM!” Ange roars, baring her huge fangs and jerking her entire, powerful body at the man. He breaks, flinching backwards so hard he falls to the floor. 

 

“EEK!” Drakken yells, scrabbling for purchase with all four of his limbs. The moment he finds it, he takes off out the open door so quickly he almost leaves a cloud of dust. Ange watches him go, ever so slightly amused. He doesn’t even run that fast when lairs self-destruct on top of him.

 

“Wow,” Ange says, sitting down onto her back haunches. She looks around the room, meeting wide and shocked eyes. “Sorry everyone, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

 

“Are you kidding?” Someone says. Ange turns to them. It’s Clover, hopping up and down in her sexy toothpaste costume. It’s actually impressive in those stilettos. “That was awesome!” 

 

Ange feels her tail drag back and forth on the floor. 

 

“Thanks, Ange,” Monique says with a tired sigh. The smile she given is grateful and beautiful, which makes everything worth it. “You saved the party.”

 

“Oh, I live to please,” Ange chirps, scratching the back of her head with a hind leg. She stops half way through. That had been an instinctual movement, and she was still trying to get a handle on that. “It’s so no big.”

 

“Hm,” Monique smirks, clearly used to that response. “Do a girl one more favor? Pretty please?” Monique juts a pouty lip at her. Who can say no to a beautiful woman? Ange would like to meet them, and maybe shake their hand. Wordlessly, because she’s forgotten how to speak, Ange bobs her head up and down.

 

“Could you take care of him too? Before he wakes up-” Monique points one of her beautiful fingers at Killigan’s body. It lets out a groan, then twitches. Monique clicks her tongue. “Too late.” 

 

“Ach, me stomach’s a fuckin’ sair yin,” Duff says, clasping both his arms around his front. “Damn lassies kicked the shite outta me.”

 

“Watch your language,” Ange says, pushing up onto all fours and striding over to him. 

 

“Don’ tell me what to do,” Duff says through his grimace. He sits up. “I’ll swear all I fuckin’ want-” The man finally catches sight of her. A nine foot long canine stalks towards him. A fringe of copper brown fur lays tussled over sharp, curved blue eyes. Ange’s mouth hangs slightly open, tongue tasting the air and teeth exposed. All twenty of her claws make little clicks on the hardwood floor of the foyer, growing louder the closer she gets. 

 

Ange watches as horror widens his eyes and drops his jaw. Duff Killigan is a mountain of a man, even bigger than Brick. That’s saying something. Apparently, he’s just as athletic. It only takes two seconds. The villain jumps to his feet in half a second. The other one and half are spent sprinting out the door. Ange watches him go, relieved that this problem has resolved itself.

 

“Ye won’ take me to the hills!” Duff yells. His form gets smaller and smaller, his voice gets quieter and quieter as he zooms down the street. “I ain’ goin’ back, wolf!” 

 

Nevermind, Ange watches him go with an emotion she can’t even identify. She looks around the room and meets many wide eyes staring at the open doorway. 

 

“Are… Are werewolves real?” Ange asks as the implications of Duff’s words set in. No one answers her, because there’s not really an answer to be had. Not here in Monique’s house, nestled in the suburbs of Middleton, far, far away from the country of Scotland. Monique walks over to her, then quietly grabs the door and shuts it.

 

“You know what,” Monique says, “I’m putting my foot down as party host. We’re all going to go ahead and pretend they aren’t, and I’m going to go drink alcohol,” That gets murmured agreements from the rest of the group, but Monique has always been Kim’s most practical friend. Some teens follow Monique towards the kitchen, looking to imbibe. Josh, pirate of the high seas, plugs his guitar into its speaker and starts strumming out a tune. 

 

Slowly, the festive, spooky Halloween atmosphere arises back from the dead. Ange lets out a huffed sigh, slightly amused. At least two villains crashing the party is the worst thing that could happen tonight. She starts back upstairs, happy that the worst of the drama is behind her.

 

 

Chapter 93: Chapter 91

Bonnie is waiting for her at the top of the steps. Ange doesn’t have any eyebrows as a werewolf, but she’d purposefully added expressive muscles all along her face. She raises one of her brows, questioning. 

 

“I’m going to go socialize like a normal person,” she says, examining her perfect nails. They’re painted bright blue, like a summer sky. “Wanna come with?”

 

Ange thinks about it. Hanging with Bonnie is pleasant. Except, she’ll probably pick Brick up sometime tonight. If Ange watches him take Bonnie somewhere private right in front of her, she’ll snap and maul him. It’s very hard to resist that urge already. Aggression must be built into this form. 

 

“Next time,” Ange says, glancing down the hall. She can smell Tara’s perfume gently wafting along the corridor. Citrus spice and everything nice. At the end of her spine, her tail starts wagging. “I’ve got a box of pizza waiting for me.” Turquoise eyes roll. They're full of warmth. 

 

Ange smiles a toothy smile and watches one of her favorite girls in the whole world descend the stairway. Then she continues her trek to the little space they’d carved out separate from the rest of the shindig. 

 

Tara is on the other side of the door, sitting upside down on the giant beanbag. Platinum blonde hair pools on the hardwood, the screen from her phone illuminates her beautiful face. Ange shuts the door behind her and opens up her pizza box just as Tara finishes sending off her last text.

 

“Heeey Angie?” Tara says. Her phone shuts with a snappy click. Ange’s pizza, the entire pizza, disappears into her stomach with a snappy bite. “Could you let me ride you later?” 

 

“Yes,” Ange says, way too quickly. Then she closes her mouth, grateful that there’s more than one meaning to Tara’s question, and hopeful that Tara took away the correct one. Judging from the way Tara smirks, she doesn’t. Or she does. It’s all very confusing, at least that angle of it is. 

 

“So, like, did you choose that costume because Bonnie keeps calling you feral or is it all just a coincidence?” 

 

“Uhm,” Ange thinks back to why she went with werewolf in the first place, then pointedly doesn’t stare at Tara’s playboy bunny outfit. It does strange things to her. “Yes.”

 

Sweet and light laughter fills the room. Tara covers up her mouth with a beautiful, slender hand. Ange feels her heart go all gooey, and she makes a decision. She’s trying not to be a coward anymore.

 

“Tara,” Ange says. She sits her haunches to the floor, pawing nervously at nonexistent dirt that’s not existing in front of her. Just because she’s trying not to be a coward doesn’t mean she isn’t one. “I was thinking about something.” Tara raises an eyebrow, then rolls over onto her stomach, then squirms around until she’s sitting in a position that is actually comfortable.  

 

“You do do that a lot,” Tara says, gently teasing. Ange sticks her tongue out, internally grateful Tara’s helping ease the tension.

 

“Give me a break, I can’t turn this off,” Ange says, motioning to her skull. There’s actually no brain in this body. At the top of the spine is a receiving box, capturing all of the electrical impulses from her actual body and translating it into movement here. If she sits down and explains it, she’ll want to explain exactly how it works, and that’ll take hours that she doesn’t have. She’s trying to keep Tara’s attention. 

 

“Tara, you know that, uhm, I like girls, right?” She definitely has all of Tara’s attention now. The girl gives her a nod, watching. Ange swallows. “It seems that you’re partial to them too.” Dawning starts to take hold in Tara’s mind. She continues quickly, because she needs to be the one who says this. “I would really like to take you on a date.”

 

Silence.

 

There’s a pitying look on Tara’s face. Her eyebrows are furrowed together, her mouth is curled into a thin frown. Ange doesn’t need Tara to say anything to know. “Ah,” she says, feeling numb. She refuses to let it show, reminding herself to keep her ears perked up and tail alert. “It seems I misread the situation. I’m sorry I brought it up-”

 

“Angie, you got it wrong,” Tara says. Ange’s mouth shuts so quick, her teeth click against each other. “I mean- I think you’re really sweet, and I like you a lot.” Just not in the way Ange had hoped. She gives Tara her warmest smile. 

 

“It’s alright, Tara. I understand.”

 

“It’s not like that,” Tara interjects. Her shoulders bunch up to her ears. Is that guilt behind those eyes? “I just can’t say yes.”

 

“Oh.” Thoughts fire past her a mile a second. She snatches one from the air and crushes it in her fist. Ange feels her ears fold back against her head. It doesn’t matter how hard she tries, they won’t unpin themselves. “I waited too long, didn't I?”

 

“I’m so sorry.” Tara looks away first, confirming it. Ange’s throat feels thick and swollen. She takes a shaky breath.

 

“Don’t be. I’m happy for you.” Ange doesn’t tell lies, she stretches the truth. Tara wraps her arms around herself, looking so guilty and sad that Ange gets onto her feet. She needs to go. She’s just making things worse. It’s not an unfamiliar feeling. 

 

“Angie, wait,” Tara says as she heads for the exit. She can’t bring herself to look at anything but the exit.

 

“Tara, give me a bit please.” 

 

“But-”

 

“Please,” Ange begs, opening the door. Tara doesn’t say anything else. She’s doing what Ange asked, so why does it feel like one of her Shifu’s knives has landed true?

 

Ange steps into the hall and walks away. 

 

---

 

The sky is dark now. Most of the younger kids are off the streets. Kim can see a group of older children making their way from door to door. They wear costumes ranging from Dracula to Spongebob. It’s cute, but they only get a passing glance. Her attention belongs to someone else.

 

She’s tall for a woman. Each movement she makes is an expression of discipline. How many years of training does she have? Who taught her? Why did she become a thief? Kim bites her lip, realizing she doesn’t really know anything about Shego. Not yet. 

 

“I’m still not giving up on you,” Kim says. The muscles of Shego’s shoulders go tense. 

 

“I told you not to make it weird.”

 

Kim frowns, looking down at her feet. They’re covered by her princess dress. “I can pretend nothing happened.” From the corner of her eye Kim sees two boots pivot around, one black, the other green.

 

“What?” 

 

Kim has a lot of hobbies. She’s part of the student council, she plays soccer, she helps the drama club, she’s the vice cheer captain for Middleton, and she loves every second of it all. None of it compares to infiltrating and detaining supervillains every other week. She could give everything up if she had to, except for that. The woman in front of her is one of many big reasons why.

 

“We can go back to how it was,” Kim says, finally looking back up. Shego’s expression is hard to read, but it certainly isn’t positive. There’s a wrinkle between her eyebrows. Bright green eyes stare at her with intensity. It’s kind of nice, but not really. “I can pretend, uh, tubergate didn’t happen.”

 

Black lipstick lips twitch. Some of the tension in Kim’s chest unwinds. 

 

“You should let me go,” Shego says. “I’m no good for you, Kimmie.” Kim opens her mouth, only for Shego to hold up a silencing palm. “And, no, you don’t get to decide that. That’s an adult decision. Last I checked, there’s only one of those here.” 

 

Kim could say a lot of things. She could dig her feet into the lawn grass and tell Shego no, she won’t give up on her. She’s already told her that, though. She could point out that Shego’s a villain, so her point is moot. Except Shego would just use her villainy as another excuse to stop this. Whatever this is. She could even start a fist fight right now. It would certainly be fun, but it would send the wrong message. 

 

Instead, she says this: “So you’re down to pretend we didn’t do anything?” Bright green eyes blink in surprise. Kim smiles. “Because I am.”

 

“...Why?” Shego says, crossing her arms. Suspicion is plain on her face. 

 

“I like fighting you. You like fighting me. I don’t want anything to get in the way of that.” Her rival remains silent, so Kim shrugs her shoulders and holds her hands behind her back. “Don’t you think it’s fun?”

 

“You think trying to kill each other is fun?” Shego’s voice is full of amused disbelief. 

 

“Why else do you think I do it?”

 

“I don’t know? Maybe because it’s the right thing to do and you’re a bleeding fucking heart.”

 

“Language, it is, and I guess I am.” Kim would always try to help someone if it looked like they needed it. “Especially ‘cause no one would be able to put you in your place if I was out of the game.” Shego scoffs, but there’s maybe a bit of sarcastic fondness in it. She’ll take it. “But I stick around because it’s something I enjoy doing, and I think that’s why you do what you do too.” 

 

Kim knows she’s right, because Shego leans all of her weight onto her back leg, regarding and pensive. She knows she’s right because if Shego wanted to, she would have quit being Drakken’s sidekick and disappeared to some tropical island, never to be heard from again, except for the occasional heist. She knows because she knows Shego. Maybe not her favorite color, or her mysterious past, but Kim knows her essence. 

 

So she’ll dangle what makes her tick right in front of her face, and she’ll hope Shego grasps for it. 

 

“So, do you want to have fun?” Kim asks, giving Shego every bit of attention she can. She watches Shego think for what seems like eternity, but is probably less than thirty seconds. Eventually, Shego answers her, and it’s by dropping into her favorite position, the form of the Tiger. Kim grins. Her heart rate adopts a rabbit’s pulse. She falls into Mantis, eyeing up her rival.

 

“EEEEK!” someone screams. Drakken bursts out of Monique’s home with the intensity of a hurricane. Never has Kim seen him run so fast. He tears through the lawn, kicking up clods of grass and dirt with each step. She’s pretty sure there might be a tear or two running down his eyes. “Shego! Help me!” he says, not even stopping to give her another order. 

 

“There’s a doggy!” Drakken yells, growing smaller and smaller down the sidewalk. Two of the world's most dangerous people turn in tandem to watch him go. 

 

“I didn’t know Drakken was afraid of dogs,” Kim says.

 

“He’s not,” Shego says. She readies herself again, ignoring the receding form of her terrified employer. “Remember the poodle?”

 

“How could I forget?” Kim says, pushing herself into mission mode. The smirk on her face is as dangerous as Shego. “I won, after all.” Shego shows her sharp canines and glowing eyes.

 

“So you got lucky.” Shego’s fists burst into flames of plasma. “Big whoop. Now get over here so I can whoop you.” 

 

A part of Kim understands why Ange is like that now. Getting orders from beautiful women is a wonderful thing. Thankfully, Kim’s higher brain function doesn’t shut off the way Ange’s does. She crouches, ready to introduce her fist to Shego’s pretty face.

 

“ACH, away ye wre’ched werewolf!” Duff Killigan screams, running out the door. He’s a bigger man than Brick, but can run just as fast. He kicks up clods of dirt and grass as he streaks across the lawn. Kim has to bat one out of the air before it lands in her mouth. “Ne’er again! Nae hills for me!” He thumps along the grass, then the concrete. Each foot fall gets quieter as he disappears into the horizon. Two of the most dangerous people in the world turn to watch Duff go.

 

“...Are werewolves real?” Shego asks, turning back to Kim. 

 

“It was probably Ange.”

 

“The last time I checked, Dorkius Maximus wasn’t a werewolf.” Shego looks up at the sky. “And it’s not a full moon.”

 

“She’s a werewolf,” Kim says, pursing her lips at the nickname. It might be accurate, but it’s not very nice at all. 

 

“A costume doesn’t count, Kimmie.”

 

“It’s not a costume- well, technically it is?” Shego stares at her, so she elaborates. “It’s like a meat suit. Ange grew a nine foot tall meat suit that looks like a werewolf in the lab and she’s wearing that.” There’s a long moment of silence from Shego. A long, long moment.

 

“Kimmie,” Shego says.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Just shut up and fight me.” 

 

Kim grins, bending her knees low and raising her fists high. Shego doesn’t have to ask her twice.

Series this work belongs to:

• Part 1 of If I Get My Cards Right, I don't have to Use Violence