Chapter Text
The early morning sun, watery and weak, filtered through the pristine glass windows of Dean Dovey’s office. Clarissa carefully re-capped her pearly lipstick, returning it to the top drawer of her ornate wooden desk. The creak of the drawer sliding out was lost in the echoing bang of the office door slamming open against the stone wall. The blonde jumped and dropped the lipstick, a small cry of surprise escaping her lips as the silver tube clattered on the floor.
Lady Lesso stood in the doorway backlit by the torches that illuminated the halls from dusk to dawn, her person blurred by shadow. She strode forward, stepping into the light so her coppery hair, escaping the violet silk scarf she’d tied around it overnight, caught the faint sunlight and glimmered softly. Dovey glared at her counterpart as the witch kicked the heavy door closed behind her with a thud. A metallic click sounded as the iron latch caught.
“Always with the theatrics,” Clarissa frowned.
Lesso shrugged. The shoulders of her open coat slid down slightly with the motion, revealing one of Lesso’s many white collared shirts, this one only mostly buttoned. The gap at her chest revealed a smattering of freckles.
“It’s the spice of life,” she answered.
Dovey squinted at her outfit and Lesso shifted her hips inadvertently, aware she was standing in judgement.
“What’s with this,” the fairy godmother gestured widely from Lesso’s worn black flats to her tied-back curls, “situation.”
Lesso looked at Clarissa quizzically.
“I woke up ten minutes ago,” she raised her wrist and tapped it as if she had remembered to put on a watch. “It’s fucking early.”
Dovey stared at her and her mouth moved as if she were going to respond with something else, but she caught herself and flicked her hand at Lesso dismissively.
“Whatever.”
Lesso dropped into the chair across from Dovey’s desk. It made her feel like she was a student again — on the wrong side of the desk waiting to be chastised. She crossed her long legs and settled back nonchalantly to mask her deep desire to squirm, forcibly relaxing into the seat cushions instead.
Clarissa kept looking at her strangely, taking in the half-done tangle of an evil dean in front of her. Lesso slapped both of her palms on the desk to distract her.
“So,” she said too loudly for the quiet room, “what have we got?”
Dovey shook her head quickly to bring herself back to the moment and moved the unassuming question box from to the center of her desk. It had sat in the hallway for almost a week before she rescued it from whatever miseries were crinkled, crushed, or neatly folded and stuffed inside. With a quick glow, the hinges snapped back so she could grab the crumpled papers from within and put the pile on the desk. While Clarissa smoothed the papers on top and began stacking them neatly, Lady Lesso grabbed one from the bottom sending part of the pile avalanching down. She whipped a pair of thick-rimmed black glasses out of her coat pocket, settled them on her nose, and read aloud in her deep professor’s voice:
“What’s tits?”
Clarissa paused in her tidying and looked up.
“Does it really say that?”
Lesso made a noise halfway between a scoff and a laugh.
“Princess, I could not make that up.”
She handed the slip of paper to Dovey and watched her eyes widen as she took in the loops of flowery handwriting. What’s tits, the Dean of Good mouthed, staring intently at the scrap. She looked up at Lesso.
“Do you want to take this one?”
Lesso laughed aloud and snatched the paper back.
“I don’t know,” she teased, “seems like you have a couple cups more experience.”
Clarissa wrinkled her nose, feeling a blush bloom across her cheeks. Thank goodness for liquid foundation.
“I think I shall leave the more vulgar ones in your capable hands.”
Lesso made an obscene gesture with those hands that Dovey pointedly ignored, unfurling a scrolled slip of paper from the pile yet to be sorted.
“ How does sex feel?” She read aloud.
Lesso contemplated the hem of her sleeve. Clarissa drummed her fingertips on the desk.
“Fair question,” the Dean of Evil finally said.
Dovey chewed on her bottom lip.
“Bit philosophical.”
They sat in silence. The sun was finally starting to illuminate the room. Lesso wore the particular frown she reserved for concentration. Clarissa stared at the ceiling.
“Let’s table that one,” she finally said.
“Mm,” came Lesso’s agreement. She drew the slip with the next question toward her with one painted fingernail and read it over twice to be sure sleep wasn’t blurring her vision. “Is it normal for one testicle to be bigger than the other two?”
“Let’s start a pile for the healer,” Dovey answered quickly.
“Princess, at my school, I am the healer, and I would prefer to never address that question ever again in this life or the next.”
“Then for both our sakes, let’s hope it’s one of the Good students that submitted it,” Dovey said in a serious voice completely undermined by a smile. Lesso shuddered.
“Gods, pick another one. I need to burn that image out of my head.”
“You act like there’s any chance the next will be better.”
Lesso hung her head and massaged at a sore spot in her shoulder.
“Touché.”
Dovey went ahead anyway.
“When I get my monthlies, it feels like someone is shoving a mace through my gut and sits there twisting it for a week. But in a bad way. Is that normal?”
“Ah, finally, an easy one,” Lesso sighed. “They can come see me.”
“Do you…” Dovey tried to think of the best way to word her question, “Do you also get pain with your bleeding?”
Lesso looked at her suspiciously.
“I can’t see how that’s any of your business.”
“I just mean… you sound like you have something to do about it other than, you know, empathize?”
“Empathy?” Lesso said, bringing her hand to her heart in mock offense. “You invite me here to insult me?”
Dovey rolled her eyes and reached for another paper. Lesso’s hand reflexively flew to stop her. They sat there for the briefest of moments, fingers touching, before they both drew their arms back so fast they sent a breeze ruffling the questions over the table.
“Princess, do you still get your monthlies?” Lesso asked, holding her previously proffered hand between her knees as if it had been burnt.
“Sorry, you don’t?”
“Not in years, and” Lesso rushed to emphasize, “not because I’m that old. You’re older than I. By far. Years. Eons, one might say.”
“One might wake up with a whole bolt of satin stuffed down her throat-“
Lady Lesso interrupted the half-baked death threat as if Dovey were in her first-year class.
“Don’t you know about that potion? You put a spoonful in your tea and it skips? I literally give it away for free.”
Dovey cleared her throat, embarrassed to find herself so far out of a loop she didn’t know existed. Really, she should pay more attention to the other side of the bridge.
“One of your own inventions?”she ventured, trying to distract from her apparent oversight.
“Naturally.”
“What would I have to do to get you to brew a double batch?”
Lesso made a motion to toss her hair, forgetting it was still tied up.
“To keep your vapid pack of adolescent sugar cubes from reproducing? It’s my pleasure.”
“Thank you,” Clarissa said earnestly. Lesso shrugged. Accepting gratitude was not her forte.“Anyway…” Dovey continued, picking up one of the smoothed-out slips from the pile she’d originally organized. And the ordeal went on.
~~~~~~~~~
The sun was burning down at high noon as the deans sifted through the last of the questions.
“Platonic,” Lady Lesso said firmly.
“Aesthetic,” Dovey replied.
“Intellectual.”
“Romantic.”
“Physical.”
“Emotional.”
“Competitive”
“That’s not-“
“Fight me,” Lesso said, planting her palms on the edge of the desk and leaning forward.
“I think we’ve lost track of this conversation.”
“What were we talking about?”
“Asexuality,” Dovey said, on the verge of forgetting herself. “Different types of relationships people
can have.”
“Right.”
“Well,” Dovey sighed, “there’s one left.”
Lesso tipped her chair back and said to the ceiling relievedly, “Praise. Praise all that is unholy,” ignoring the firm certainty that any diety who would listen to her would absolutely not grace a room with a pastel ceiling. “Do the honors princess?”
Dovey drew the scrap gracefully toward her and read aloud:
“Why am I so attracted to Lady Lesso and just thinking about her makes my c—“ She abruptly cut herself off and set the note aflame in the palm of her hand.
"Why Clarissa, I'm so flattered. I can't say I've never thought about the two of us, but-"
"Lesso, do you really think I can't recognize your own handwriting?"