Chapter Text
Three slammed the car door, and then slammed her lips onto Eight’s. She quickly returned the gesture, and they stayed like that for a few seconds before pulling away. Three was still laughing. “Man, that was genius! You can be evil when you want to be.”
Eight giggled. “Well. I was pretty angry.”
Three sobered up quickly. “Yeah. Sorry about them. They get really carried away sometimes. You know; superfamous pop stars, loose grip on reality… that sort of thing.”
“It’s… it’s okay,” Eight assured. “I just need some time to cool down. Recollect myself.”
Three tried not to frown. “Do you… want me to take you back to Pearl and Marina’s house?” She kind of hoped not. But Eight’s wants were more important right now.
Eight smiled. “You mean my moms’ house?”
Three laughed. “Yeah, that.”
“…No,” Eight said. “I was having a lot of fun with you until, um. That happened. I want to stay with you. But maybe we could do something… not public? I don’t think I want crowds of people right now.”
Three nodded. That made sense. What could they do, then… well, there was always her apartment. Nobody knew the address, because she never let anybody know the address, because she didn’t want anybody there. So it would definitely be a safe place to go. But, on the other hand, she didn’t want anybody there for a reason. She was a very private person. She’d hate for people to suddenly know super personal things about her, like her place of residence, or her name. It would definitely be a risk.
Three looked over at Eight, sitting in the passenger’s seat, hugging her knees to her chest, staring at the glove compartment. “We could go chill at my apartment if you want,” she said.
Eight perked up. “Really? You’re comfortable with that?”
“Yeah,” she said, and it didn’t feel like a lie. “Nobody knows where I live, so. Guaranteed privacy.”
“That’d be nice, I think.”
“Alrighty then. Next stop, Three’s shitty apartment.”
“So here’s my shitty apartment,” Three said, stepping into her shitty apartment. She looked at the embarrassing amounts of clothes and junk lying on the floor. “Sorry about the mess. I wasn’t expecting guests.”
“It’s fine,” Eight said, immediately flopping down onto Three’s barely-still-hanging-together sofa. She looked around, taking in her surroundings, and Three took the opportunity to surreptitiously nudge a stray bra under an armchair with her foot. “I thought you said you hated the Squid Sisters’ music,” Eight commented.
“I do,” Three responded reflexively, and then, suddenly, she gasped. How could she have forgotten.
How could she have forgotten all her Squid Sister merch.
In a frightening blur of motion, Three rushed through the room, scooping up her Squid Sisters pajama shirt, snatching a few CDs off of a nearby table, and then rushing over to the signed poster she had on her wall. She jumped, trying to rip it down, but she was too short. Dammit! Let’s see, if she vaulted off of her radiator, she could probably grab the bottom on her way down, and—shit, Eight was staring at her.
With a defeated sigh, she let the contents of her hands fall back to the ground. “Fine! You got me. I’ve been a huge fan of the Squid Sisters for years. If you tell anyone I’m not speaking to you ever again.”
Eight looked both amused and confused. “I don’t—Three, why does it matter? Pearl and Marina are really big fans of them too, and they’re not embarrassed about it.”
“Because they’re so damn smug, okay?” Three rolled her eyes. “Can you imagine what would happen if they found out I hoard their merchandise? I’d never hear the end of it.”
“But… you have a signed poster. How do they not know?”
“I got that at one of their concerts when I was thirteen,” Three mumbled. “Three years before I became an agent. They don’t remember faces very well. Look, their music’s just really good, okay? And maybe stupid teenage going-through-puberty me had other motivations to like them as well, but that was a long time ago! The only thing I even halfway enjoy about anything associated with them is their music.”
Three couldn’t help but avert her eyes, feeling her cheeks warm. God. This is why she didn’t invite people over to her house. It was private! She was an idiot. Eight probably thought she actually liked Callie and Marie now. Which, granted, was the truth, but still! What was she supposed to do now? Still keep doing the whole ‘hate the Squid Sisters’ thing? God!
Three crossed her arms and threw herself down onto the couch next to the giggling Eight. “Just… don’t tell them, okay?”
“I won’t,” Eight said, leaning her head onto Three’s shoulder. “Your face matches your flower too, now, you know.”
“Shut up,” Three said. But she let her head fall to rest on Eight’s anyway. And, well, since she was already blushing… Three let her hand slide towards Eight’s, tangling their fingers together. Eight perked up, a bit surprised, but smiled, snuggling closer to Three. She was warm.
“You wanna… do anything?” Three asked.
“Nope.”
Three smiled and closed her eyes. “Yeah. Me neither.”
Bzzzt. Bzzzt. Bzzzt.
Eight stirred, eyes fluttering open. Where was she? Had she fallen asleep? Her bed felt weird.
Bzzzt. Bzzzt. Bzzzt.
As she blinked the sleep out of her eyes, it began coming back to her. That’s right—she was at Three’s. She tried to sit up, but something was stopping her. Frustrated, she twisted her head, and—
“Ah! Three!”
The girl was practically wrapped around Eight’s body, her head buried against Eight’s chest. She was breathing softly, and Eight was struggling to balance her desire to get up with her desire to let Three sleep, because she was just so adorable like that. But also Three was trapping her legs and had her arms wrapped around her torso, and Three was incredibly strong, so it was very hard to move.
Bzzzt. Bzzzt. Bzzzt.
Oh! Her phone! That must’ve been what woke her up. With some impressive shows of coordination, she managed to grab her phone in one hand and answer.
“Hi! This is Eight!”
“Eight, it’s Marina,” said Marina’s voice over the phone. “I’m just checking in because you said you’d be back by now?”
Eight checked the cheap digital clock resting on a nearby table. Oh, no! “I-I’m sorry, I kind of fell asleep. Everything’s fine, I’m still with Three.”
“You… fell asleep?”
“Yeah. I’ll head back right now!”
“Alright sweetie, I’ll see you soon. Hope you had fun falling asleep!”
The line beeped dead, and Eight slipped her phone back into her jacket pocket. Alright. Now to wake Three up.
Eight placed a hand on the top of Three’s head and shook it a little. “Hey, Three, wake up.”
Three mumbled something unintelligible and squirmed closer to Eight. Eight groaned; this was not fair.
“Three! Wake up!” she insisted, shaking Three’s head a tad more violently. That seemed to do the trick, as Three grumpily opened one eye.
“Who the fuck is in my…” She trailed off as she took in her position, and realization dawned in her eyes. “I—this—um—” She cleared her throat. “This is always how I sleep. Just so you know.”
“Sure, Three,” Eight said. “You’re really cute when you’re sleeping.”
“You sound like a stalker. Also no I don’t.”
“Yeah you do,” Eight countered, poking her on the nose.
Three blushed and looked away. “Fuck you.”
“Can I get up now?” Eight asked.
“Nah, I’m comfy,” she mumbled, pressing her head back into Eight’s chest. “And you’re soft.”
“I need to go home, Three,” Eight said, struggling not to giggle. “It’s getting kinda late.”
“Time isn’t real.”
“Yes it is. Just because we invented it doesn’t mean it’s fake. Are tables fake?”
“Eight I just woke up like twenty seconds ago, stop with this shit.”
“But, Three, I thought time wasn’t real.”
“Oh my fucking god.” With a tremendously over dramatic groan, Three unwrapped her arms from around Eight and untangled their legs. Then, she rolled off the couch, falling face-first onto the floor and staying there. “Happy now?”
“Yes, thank you,” Eight said, getting to her feet and stepping over Three. “You still need to drive me, by the way. So you need to get up.”
“Uuuuuuuugh. I hate getting up.” Three shambled to her feet like she’d just come back from the dead. “Hold on. I need orange juice. I’m not awake until I’ve had orange juice.”
As Three disappeared into her kitchen, Eight pulled a small notebook out of her jacket, and jotted down ‘getting up’ on her List of Things Three Hates. It was getting pretty sizable at this point. She heard the sound of muted chugging in the background, and put the list away just as Three burst back into the room.
“Alright. Where the fuck did I put my keys.” She dove into a pile of stuff next to the couch, tossing various items out behind her.
One particular shirt caught Eight’s eye as Three flung it to the side; it was collared, and had the logo of an atom on it. Eight read the text under the icon. “P. R. Hana Science Museum?”
Three whipped around. “What? Oh. Yeah, that’s, um, the Inkopolis science museum.”
“What’s that?”
“It’s a place people go to see exhibits of the latest technologies and stuff. It’s half educational, and half trying to impress people with obscure science stuff.”
“Do you go there often?”
“I work there, actually,” Three said, rubbing the back of her head. “Part time.”
“At a science museum? Does that mean you’re a scientist?”
Three cringed. “Er… no. I give tours.”
Eight looked at her blankly. No matter how hard she tried, she could not imagine Three giving a pleasant tour of anything. She barely normal-smiled; how would she fake-smile?
“Let’s just say I tend to switch day jobs often. I’m lucky I get some extra pay from my agent work. Without that, well… I dunno.”
Eight turned the uniform over in her hands, coming across a name tag. She squinted. “Who’s Amy?”
Three froze, staring at the name tag with the most fear Eight thought she’d ever seen on her face.
Eight frowned. “Three? Are you okay?”
Three sprung forward, grabbed the shirt, and threw it across the room. “You need to get home, right? Let’s go.”
“Wait—what about your keys?”
“I know how to hotwire a car.”
“But aren’t they right there?” Eight asked, pointing at a set of keys sitting on a small table, next to the clock.
The two of them exchanged a look, then darted forward, scrambling over furniture and nearly tripping on stray clothing.
“Ha!” Eight exclaimed, snatching the keys just as Three reached out her own arm. “Got em!”
“C’mon, Eight,” Three intoned. “This doesn’t have to be harder than it needs to be.”
“Who’s Amy?”
“Give me the keys!” Three screeched, leaping forwards.
Eight yelped as Three’s flashed towards her, almost as if in slow motion. She was so fast; she always had been. And her eyes were… fiery. Not like the kind eyes she’d been seeing these past few weeks, and not like the vacant eyes she’d seen during her escape from the metro, on the elevator platform. No; these eyes called back to the first time Eight had met Three. When she’d just been another Octarian soldier in Three’s way. Eight’s memories of that fight were still hazy, but there was something lingering, something resting, in the back of her mind, and it told her that she should be afraid.
Reflexively, Eight dropped down and rolled to the side, grasping at her waist for the octoshot that wasn’t there. Three stopped, turned, met her eyes, and paused. “…Eight? You okay?”
“Yeah,” Eight said, after a beat. “You just startled me a bit. Let’s go.”
Three nodded. “Right. Okay. Sorry.”
“You know I would never hurt you, right?” Three asked, hands on the steering wheel. They were the first words of the drive home, ten minutes in. “I want—I need you to know that.”
“I know,” Eight said. “It’s not your fault. Nothing’s your fault. I just need to be stronger.”
Three’s expression grew hard. “No, that’s not how that works. Don’t put this on yourself. You went through hell.”
“But it’s over now,” Eight said. She wrapped her arms around herself. “So why can’t I be over it?”
Three drove in deep thought for a few blocks. “I don’t care how strong someone is. You don’t just get over something like… that.”
“But look at you! You’ve fought in how many battles now, and you just walk away like—”
“No I don’t!” Three said, her voice shaking ever so slightly. “I’m not over it at all, Eight! I can’t even hear my own damn name without feeling sick.” Eight looked over at her, eyes wide. Three stared at the road ahead, teeth hard together. “I… The reason I’m so private with all of you is because I keep Three and Amy as separate as possible. If I had to deal with both of those lives at once I think I might break for real. Hearing you say my name was… scary. I want to trust all of you, and I do trust all of you, but I can’t even bring myself to tell you guys my real name without freaking out and attacking you.
“So no. I don’t just walk away. No one does, not from something like that, and if they say they do, they’re fucking lying.”
They sat in silence for a few minutes more before Three pulled up outside of Eight’s house.
“Well, we’re here,” Three muttered. “Sorry this was such a disaster.”
Eight smiled, turning to face her. “Don’t be. I enjoyed it.”
“You don’t have to lie.”
“I’m not lying, Three.” Eight kissed her on the cheek. “I’ll see you later.”
As soon as she closed the front door behind her, Eight let out a humongous breath, eyes wide. Pearl, who had come out to welcome her home, shot her a look. “What’s going on? You look like you were chased here by a shark.”
“Why is dating so stressful?” Eight asked, dragging herself over to her favorite sofa and letting herself fall down onto it.
“Rough date?”
“I… think it was good,” Eight said. “It was just a lot.”
Pearl nodded. “I gotcha. Yeah. Get used to that.”
Eight groaned.
As Eight shut her front door, Three let out a long breath. “Why is dating so stressful?” she murmured to herself.
Three was pretty sure she’d just told Eight more about herself in one day than she’d told literally anybody else in the past two years added together. Was she going too fast? Was she handling this right? God, she it was so much easier when she dated jerks. They made her look like the fucking perfect girlfriend.
She needed to talk to someone who’d get it. Driving around the block so that Eight didn’t think she was just loitering in her driveway, Three pulled out her phone and typed in a number.
“Three?” asked Marie’s voice after a few rings.
“Hey, Marie. Are you doing alright?”
“Well, I just finished signing about two hundred autographs, so my soul feels like a raisin and I want to eat rocks, but other than that, yeah. Need something?”
“Just… to talk, I guess.”
“I see. Eight?”
“Yep,” Three sighed. “I dunno, I just feel like… So I kind of unloaded some shit onto her five minutes ago? I mean, it was to make her feel better, but like. It made me realize how much shit I’ve got to deal with. I was pretty fucked up even before Cap’n and I went to investigate that utter nightmare that is Kamabo. And if she’s gonna be my girlfriend, then she’s gonna have to deal with all of my shit too. I don’t want to put that on her right now, you know? She’s still adjusting.”
“Eight’s stronger than you think,” Marie said, simply.
“I know! I’m not trying to say she’s not. It’s just… I’m worried I’m not the best thing for her right now.”
Marie let out a harsh laugh. “Bitch, you don’t think Eight’s got shit of her own that you’re gonna have to deal with too? She spent months in a hellish research facility with a broken memory, zombie Octolings, and a deranged robot that wanted to melt her down for her DNA. You’re both a little fucked up right now.”
“Hey, I was also stuck in Kamabo during—”
“Oh, don’t give me that,” Marie said, and Three could hear her rolling her eyes. “This isn’t a fucking trauma competition. Look. I think your relationship is exactly what Eight needs right now. And call me crazy, but I think it’s exactly what you need, too. So stop bitching and make it happen. Got it?”
Three opened her mouth to deliver some sarcastic retort, but she came up empty. “Yeah. Got it.”
“Dope,” Marie said, before abruptly hanging up.
Three reclined in her seat and let out a low breath. “Stop bitching and make it happen,” she repeated to herself. “Marie, out here dropping the life mottos.”
With a groan, she wrenched herself upright, and shifted the car into drive. She needed to go turfing for a little while to clear her head; she’d sort through all this shit later.
Eight had managed to retreat to her room before Marina could notice her, thankfully. She knew Marina was going to ask a ton of questions about how everything went, and she was so totally not up for that right now. She was much more content to lie on her bed and pretend she was asleep.
She was worried about Three. She kind of wanted to talk to someone about it, but who? Pearl and Marina didn’t know Three very well. And though Three and Four seemed to be getting along, they had still only known each other for around a month at this point. She pulled up her contacts, hummed, and selected a number.
“Hello, Callie Cuttlefish!”
“Hello? It’s Eight.”
“Hi, Eight!” came Callie’s chipper voice. “What’s up?”
“Oh, um. Well, I was just wondering some stuff. About Three.”
Callie laughed. “Aren’t we all?”
“Right, well. You’ve known Three for a really long time, right? Longer than anybody else.”
“Well, I doubt longer than anybody else at all period,” Callie said. “But yeah, I’ve known her for a couple years now. Why?”
“Is she… okay?” Eight asked.
Callie was quiet for a while. “I’m not sure I entirely understand what you’re asking.”
“I mean, is she doing okay?”
“Like in general?”
“Yeah.”
“Honestly, I’ve been wondering the same thing for a while now.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, she hasn’t exactly told any of us much. I mean, heck, none of us even know her name!” Callie let out a short laugh. Eight cringed slightly, but kept silent. “But I mean, if you think about it—Marie and I were trained by our granddad, who was widely recognized as one of the best captains in the entire army during the Great Turf War. Four is basically a prodigy; you may not know her very well, but natural talent and hard work got her into the eyes of some very influential people, and she’s one of the youngest pro battlers around. And from what I’ve gathered, you were one of the Octarian’s best soldiers, so good you managed to get the hell out of there, and then get the hell out of Kamabo. And then there’s Three, who’s better than any one of us. I mean, don’t tell her I said that or anything, but we all know it’s true. And one of the only things she’s ever told me about herself is that she never had formal combat training. She taught herself to fight by playing turf wars a lot. That’s it. And she’s no prodigy like Four, as far as I’m aware—I mean, don’t get me wrong, she’s got a lot of talent, but I once saw her go turfing for eighteen hours straight and treat it like it was nothing. She just puts in the time. I’d bet money that she’s battled for over twenty four hours without sleeping in the past, multiple times. And she’s not even interested in going pro or anything like that. So why does she do it to the point that she can one-on-one DJ freaking Octavio?”
“Maybe because she enjoys the thrill of it?” Eight offered.
“Maybe,” Callie said. “But I think she uses it as a distraction, Eight. Whenever Three’s stressed, she turfs. Whenever she’s angry, she turfs. Whenever she doesn’t want to deal with whatever’s going on in that head of hers, she turfs. She throws the same kind of weirdly detached determination into her agent work; it’s what makes her so good. But I’ve always wondered why she’s like that. And then I realized: if you’re fourteen, and you want to get away from your home, or your parents, or school, or whatever, what’s the one thing you can always do, even as a kid? You can battle.
“She was sixteen when she joined the New Squidbeak Splatoon, and she agreed to be an agent without a second thought. She was out in Octo Valley for days at a time, and never once did she ever need to call home. And I’ve never heard her mention her family, even in passing. Again, though, she’s never told me anything herself, so all of this is just speculation. But if I had to guess, I’d say that Three’s life has been a lot more difficult than she lets on.”
“Oh,” said Eight. “I never thought about any of that.”
“Yeah, well. I’ve known her for two years now. After all that time, you start to wonder why you still don’t know her at all.”
“So… what do I do? I don’t really have much experience to go off of, but I really care about her. I want to help.”
“Just be there for her,” Callie said. “You’re a good person, Eight, and trust me when I say Three really cares about you, too. She’ll be there for you in turn. You two are gonna be alright.”
Eight nodded to herself. “Thanks, Callie.”
“Anytime. I’ll see you later!”
“See you!”
As Callie hung up the phone, she turned to Marie, who still had her own cell phone in her hand.
“These kids, Marie,” Callie lamented. “Were we this bad back when we were eighteen?”
“You still are.”
“Oh, shut it,” Callie chastised, hitting her cousin in the shoulder. “Don’t act like you haven’t been ogling Four ever since that mission.”
“Callie, stop. We’re just friends.”
Callie rolled her eyes. “Agent 4 Factopedia, Marie. ‘Nuff said.”
Callie got up and strolled into the kitchen, going to the cabinet to get herself a glass of water. Her voice was still hoarse from that surprise autographing fiasco—they were lucky they’d been able to get back to their house safely without anybody following them. Fans could be… a bit much, sometimes. As she listened to the water pour into the cup, she groaned. This was so frustrating! She just wanted those two dorks to figure all their shit out and be happy. Didn’t Three have a day job? Maybe she could set something up. Well, she’d have to know what it was first, and there was no chance in hell Three would tell her. Maybe Marie knew? She was pretty sure Marie had Three’s phone tapped, so it was a definite possibility.
Marie appeared in the doorway, giving Callie a wary look. “I can see you plotting.”
“I’m not plotting!” Callie denied, taking a quick sip of her water.
“You’ve got you’re plotting face on.”
“Marie, I don’t have a plotting face.”
Marie raised an eyebrow. Callie met her eye, and crossed her arms. She didn’t have a plotting face, and she wasn’t budging on that.
Marie’s eyebrow climbed higher, and Callie’s resolve shook.
“Okay, fine, I’m plotting! They’re just so cute, Marie! So cute, but so awkward.”
“Well, stop it,” Marie said firmly. “Four delegated us to relationship advice only after that restaurant fiasco. No more in-person missions.”
“And who gave Four the authority to delegate? I’m, like, three agent numbers above her!”
“Hmm, I dunno, maybe it’s because she actually got them to start dating, and we gave Eight a panic attack.”
Callie sighed. “Yeah, that’s fair.”
“Don’t worry, though,” Marie said, turning around to walk towards her room. “We’re the New Squidbeak Splatoon; there’s no mission we can’t complete. Operation 24 is no different.”
Callie smirked. “Right. With us on the case, this relationship is bound to be successful!”
On the road back to her apartment, Three felt a sudden chill go down her spine. Hmm. Strange.
She figured it was probably nothing.