Chapter Text
Irma stared out of the window groggily as Cornelia took her sweet time loading two large suitcases and a handbag into the back of the car. She'd taken the liberty of shoving everything she needed into her signature teal suitcase and a tote bag with a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles design on it, since it was to be expected that Cornelia would be bringing home so much junk for a two-week period.
A rapping of knuckles against the glass dragged her out of her daze, and she rolled down the window.
“Morning, Corny,” she drawled, rubbing one eye sleepily. “I've been driving since six and without the sweet remedy of coffee, so you'll have to take over until we hit the next pit stop.”
“As someone who had the sensibility to prepare coffee beforehand, I'll rise to that challenge,” Cornelia said with a smirk, tucking a strand of hair behind one ear. She leaned down, planted a wet one smack in the middle of Irma's forehead, then yanked on the door handle. “Now get out so we can swap over.”
“Only because that was the darned cutest wake up call ever,” Irma agreed with a yawn, stepping out of the car and into Cornelia's arms. Her girlfriend was ready for the Heatherfield winter, in a moss green shawl and mulberry-coloured dirndl skirt. Her cute winter ankle boots, cuffed with faux fur the colour of soot, added an extra two inches, leaving Irma squinting up at her in bemusement. “Are you ever not wearing earth tones? And how am I supposed to kiss you back when I'm at eye level with your boobs?”
“You're creative, you'll figure something out,” Cornelia said lightly, far too chipper for so early in the morning. She spun Irma around, effectively taking her place beside the car, and plopped down in the driver's seat. Irma climbed onto her lap immediately despite protests.
“You're right, I did. I can finally get to your face.” Irma pulled her into a kiss, as messy as it was sleep-deprived, and grinned as she pulled back. “Course, I could have just kissed your tits instead.”
“Through this shawl?” Cornelia raised her eyebrows. “Nice try. It's cashmere.”
“Well, cash it in for some sweet Irma kisses, because they're incoming.” She puckered her lips for effect, and Cornelia hastily clapped a hand over her mouth. In the ongoing struggle, Irma's butt cheek leaned against the wheel, honking the horn twice before Cornelia forcibly pushed her into the passenger seat, giggling helplessly.
“Irma! I'm sure my neighbours don't want to be awoken by your butt on the steering wheel,” she chastised, but she was grinning from ear to ear. Irma rolled her eyes, still giggling like a fool, and fastened her seatbelt.
“Spoilsport. Anyway, I'm gonna catch some sleep, so no singing along to the alphabet song while I'm snoozing, okay?”
“Where you get the impression that I'd be listening to anything but classical, I'll never know,” Cornelia responded nonchalantly, grabbing her flask of coffee from the cup holder and offering it out to her. “Here, some coffee and a short nap and you'll be right as rain.”
Irma took a swig, spent the next few minutes complaining about Cornelia's shit taste in coffee, and curled up in the passenger seat, insisting on wearing Cornelia's cashmere shawl to snooze in.
“If you drool on it, I'm holding you accountable for dry-cleaning,” she warned, but her tone held no malice and Irma made a point to give it a wet kiss before curling up against the window and drifting off.
…
“Hey, you're getting spit on my shawl.”
Irma was nudged awake with a playful left hook to the chin, and she groaned as light seeped into her vision. The morning sun was already higher in the sky, and making its presence known by proceeding to blind her.
“Ugh, what time is it?” she groaned, shielding her eyes with one hand and wiping at her mouth with the other.
“Half ten. At this rate, we'll make it to my parents' cabin for mid-afternoon.” Cornelia climbed back into the driver's seat and thrust a wrapped sandwich into Irma's face. “Here, I picked you up a breakfast sandwich.”
Irma took in the scent of bacon and egg, and immediately her mouth began to water all over again.
“Oh man! Cornelia, have I ever mentioned what a goddess you are?”
“Once or twice,” she remarked with a smirk, unwrapping her own breakfast bagel. “Mostly after cunnilingus.”
“Cornelia Elizabeth Hale, that mouth!” Irma swatted at her arm playfully, before tucking into her sandwich. She eyed Cornelia's bagel. “You still veggie?”
“Yep,” she said distractedly. “Thinking of going vegan for my new year's resolution, but finding vegan alternatives in service stops seems like a pain.”
“You pansexuals and your crazy dietary choices,” Irma grumbled, an impeccable impression of her father, shaking her head. Cornelia grinned.
“That's a thing?”
“Read it on Twitter.”
“Oh, so you're stereotyping me now?”
“When don't I stereotype you, blondie?” Irma teased with a wink. “You do realise if you go vegan my dad is never gonna cook for you again? He puts cheese and butter in everything.”
“That's fine,” Cornelia said with a shrug. “I'm sure Anna will bend over backwards searching for vegan cookbooks. Chris will hate me for it, but he hates me anyway.”
“It's possible he doesn't hate you,” Irma countered. “He just doesn't like that he has to deal with two annoying big sisters now instead of just one.”
“An understandable dilemma,” Cornelia agreed. She took a few moments to finish her bite of bagel before continuing. “I'm sure it can't be easy knowing his sister's dating the hottest girl in the universe. He'll end up having to settle for less no matter what.”
“Narcissist. Anyway, since I came out my dad and Anna keep trying to land home the point with Chris. Like, 'if you bring a boy home instead of a girl, it's no biggie, okay?' Part of me thinks its endearing, but mostly I'm just offended that Chris is getting an easy ride and not taking full advantage of their newly opened minds.”
“Ah, well, he'd have to have those leanings in the first place to take advantage of them,” Cornelia pointed out, chewing thoughtfully. “And from the looks of things, Chris is as straight as a goal post.”
“I mean, he's thirteen and still thinks girls are gross, so there's hope yet.” Irma shrugged. “What about Lillian? Think she's gonna be psyched that you're dating me?”
“If disappointment could be a more powerful emotion, she'd probably be feeling that?” Cornelia suggested with a grin. “I mean... she got on pretty good with Peter. Who knows what she'll say to know I left Heatherfield's cutest surfer to date... Heatherfield's second cutest surfer.”
Irma balled up her wrapped and threw it at Cornelia with a scoff.
“Rude! And hey, I may not be beach hunk material, but I'm beach chunk, and that's a very attractive quality.”
Cornelia reached over to pinch Irma's cheek playfully.
“That's right. Peter could slice beef with that jawline. I much prefer these chubby cheeks.”
“You mock, but I have many selfies with lipstick-covered cheeks in my evidence locker,” Irma retorted. “You do love these chubby cheeks and I can prove it too!”
Cornelia leaned over and pressed a kiss to the cheek in question.
“You don't need to prove anything,” she replied, an impish grin on her face. Irma's eyes narrowed and she stretched across to kiss Cornelia squarely on the nose.
“Let's just agree that we're both adorable and call a truce. Got any of that disgusting coffee left?”
Cornelia reached into the cup holder and presented a brandless fair trade coffee cup proudly.
“Why waste my coffee on your ruined taste buds when I could just overload you with sugar instead?”
Irma clapped her hands against her cheek with a squeal, before gripping the coffee cup like a life preserve.
“Cornelia, you are an angel among women everywhere, you know that? The best girlfriend a girl could friend! Ellen and Portia who?”
“Your excitement over pit stop coffee is just a little bit sad.”
Irma shot her a glare that soon melted into a grin as she took a gleeful sip.
“You put in three sugars? Corny, now you're just spoiling me!”
“What can I say, I'm a renaissance woman.” She took a sip of her own coffee and buckled herself back in. “I don't mind driving for a bit longer, but we'll switch at lunch time, okay?”
“Dealio. Man, you're the coolest. Did you forget to pack the stick that's normally in your butt?”
“Don't push it, dear, or I'll throw your coffee out of the window.”
As Cornelia pulled out of the parking lot and onto the junction, Irma pulled the shawl a little tighter around her and sipped her coffee. She was gradually feeling like herself again, and not some subhuman creature who'd been stomping around since 5:30 that morning. Cornelia had on some kind of smooth jazz radio station, blasting that good and horny Dionne Warwick song that Cornelia put onto every custom playlist she sent to Irma, and Irma felt the need to shake up the momentum of the car a little. Wordlessly she plugged in her iPod and began switching through tracks.
“Irma!” Cornelia protested. “I was listening to that!”
“You mean you don't want to pop your pussy to Karmilla's latest single?” Irma asked, eyes popping in disbelief. “Man, you'll love her new stuff now she's publicly come out, it's like her entire discography suddenly makes ten times more sense in the context of the metaphysical closet.”
“Karmilla's gay?” Cornelia asked in disbelief. “Since when?”
“Bi,” Irma corrected. “Since like, last March? How is this news to you?”
“Ahh. I don't know, I'm still stuck on Dionne Warwick after all this time.”
“Fair enough. Well my darling Corny, in fifty years when you catch up with contemporary music again, give Karmilla's upcoming album a listen, so far it's really angsty and gay. And also uplifting and gay.”
“Sounds like a blast.”
Irma scrolled to Karmilla's latest song, Claim To Closet Fame, and let the first few bars wash over them in a blissful silence.
Then she started wailing about kissing down a woman's chest in a darkroom, and Cornelia grimaced.
“Her passion is a bit scary.”
Irma shrugged.
“Passion is passion, babe.”
“So,” Cornelia said quickly, not wanting to press the issue of their clashing music tastes any further, “this is going to be a very important winter break.”
“Uh huh.” Irma sat up a little straighter. “Our darling Cornelia's ready to jump out of the closet and scare her parents half to death over an awkward dinner where they'll be paranoid she's gonna tell them she's pregnant or dying or flunking her degree instead of just making the frying pan joke over a face-time call and being done with it.”
With a deep sigh through her nose, Cornelia pushed her hair back. “It's not that simple. First is the idea of explaining pansexuality to my parents, who by the way, still think there's only two sexual orientations and being bisexual is a one-foot-out-of-the-closet situation. So brace yourself for that.”
“Noted. Go on.”
“Then we'll have to go through the stages of my parents asking if they did something wrong, if I've been in a toxic relationship, if I'm just confused, and all of that fun stuff. And they'll say, 'Peter is such a nice boy, why would you choose to be gay?' which brings us right on back to point one.”
“So this will be a circular conversation. Understood.”
“And then, finally, we'll tell them that we're in a relationship. But I need them to understand my identity first and foremost, Irma. You can understand.”
Irma shrugged. As far as coming out had gone, being gay and dragging Cornelia along to Heatherfield Pride as her girlfriend had been one and the same, but she got the jist.
“What, you mean you can't just up and introduce me as your banging girlfriend?”
“No, Irma,” Cornelia said through gritted teeth, gripping the steering wheel tightly. “Because up until today they think I've been dating an aspiring future botanist from State U, not the girl who once snorted orange juice out of her nose during a Boy Comet marathon.”
“No fair, that was one time and I was thirteen!” protested Irma, throwing up her hands in disbelief. “You can't hold that over me forever!”
“I don't, but they'll remember because it was my mother's couch that had orange juice stains on that never quite went away,” Cornelia pointed out tiredly. Irma groaned dramatically and flopped back in her seat, hand thrown over her face.
“Are they ever gonna approve of me being your girlfriend?” she grumbled. “I don't fancy marrying into a family that thinks I'm some good-for-nothing slob.”
“Of course they don't think that!” Cornelia said quickly, switching lanes to let a FedEx van pass. “Sure, they probably aren't expecting mystery botanist guy to be... well, you. But once they get over the fact that you're a woman, I'm sure things will settle down! I mean, my mother can be a little critical, but Lillian is just as messy as you, if not worse, and my dad adores her. Besides, he finds your jokes funny.”
“That's because he doesn't know I'm banging his daughter!” Irma exclaimed, huffing. Cornelia blushed a little and rolled her eyes.
“You're being ridiculous. First of all, my parents don't need to know we're having sex.”
“Oh yeah, because that isn't immediately the conclusion they'll jump to when you tell them since we're supposed to be sharing a pull out couch for the trip!”
“We didn't just immediately jump into sex when we got together, if you recall,” Cornelia continued, eyes trained on the road ahead. “I'm sure my parents won't mind us sharing the couch. Besides, I doubt we'd be able to without breaking it, that thing is horribly flimsy.”
“I'm amazed our darling princess Cornelia hasn't protested against the couch more,” Irma remarked, shooting her a playful look. “Remember when we went on vacation together that one summer? We had to force you into a sleeping bag!”
“The guest bedroom only has a single bed, which Lillian is taking, and they weren't expecting us to join them over winter break, so it was the couch either way.”
“Well, when we go on to my place after the first week, we can share my bed. Dad and Anna made me tidy up my room, you'll be pleased to know, and Anna sat me down for a talk about 'being safe, even with a girl'. Which was super fun, by the way.”
Cornelia snorted out a laugh.
“Your cop dad isn't gonna arrest me for propositioning his daughter, is he?”
“Part of him was relieved, actually,” Irma recalled with a gleeful expression. She cleared her throat, doing her best Tom Lair impression. “'I can't say I'm not surprised, but a woman will treat you properly. Men can be animals.' Honest to god, he said that. As if you're the most pristine girl in Heatherfield.”
“He's only relieved because you had such bad taste in men,” Cornelia replied, mouth crinkling upwards mischievously. “I've had the pleasure of getting to know a few gentlemen in my time.”
“Yeah, well, there's a reason I had such bad taste in guys, you know!” Irma retorted. “Every time one would so much as smile at me I got the wrong end of the stick, little did I know.”
“All tall beautiful blondes,” Cornelia mused. Her smile broke out into a grin as bright as the sun outside, and she clasped the wheel with new energy. “My my, Irma Lair, you sure do have a type, don't you?”
Irma blushed to the roots of her hair.
“Oh, come on! This is – this is bullying, harassment, defamation-”
“It's the truth! Remember Andrew Hornby?”
“Oh my god, please don't bring up Andrew Hornby at a time like this.”
Cornelia's eyes twinkled with mischief. “What was it now? You almost exposed yourself as a guardian by sneaking out to a party transformed, wooed Andrew Hornby, and when he tried making a move on you...”
“If you finish this story, I swear to god-”
“That's right! You turned him into a frog!”
Irma, face bright red, butted her head against the window in defeat.
“I'll turn you into a frog if you don't put a sock in it, Corny!”
As their playful bickering continued, Cornelia's phone started to buzz.
“Irma, get that for me,” she ordered, eyes trained on the road.
“Sure, your highness,” Irma drawled, rolling her eyes and reaching for Cornelia's sleek rose gold smartphone. She unlocked it with ease (Irma's birthday, could this girl get any lamer?) and the screen lit up. “Hay Lin's calling.”
“Patch her through, I guess. And put her on speaker!”
Irma swiped and held the phone up, rolling down the window a crack to let some breeze in. The cold was biting, instantly earning a complaint from Cornelia, but it just felt like another authentic piece of Hay Lin that Irma wanted in the car with them at that moment.
“Hey guys! Are you there yet? And is that Karmilla I hear?”
Claim To Closet Fame was on its third loop.
“We still have about four hours to go,” Cornelia supplied, “and Irma, change the damn track already.”
Irma switched it over to the B-side track, Sensual Orientations.
“Hay Lin, I'd just like to announce how hurt I am that you called Cornelia first when I'm your top contact,” Irma declared, hoping her pout could be heard down the phone.
“Irma, I tried your phone but you never picked up!” Hay Lin retorted. There was some shuffling, and her voice sounded slightly further away than before. “Bear with me, I'm moving boxes.”
Irma fished around for her phone, noting the three missed calls with a heavy sigh.
“You're right. I'm just a terrible friend.”
“Nope, you're just terrible at leaving your phone off of silent.”
“Your hidden pink is a weapon; So shoot me into heaven,” sang Karmilla.
“Irma, is this one about sex too?” Cornelia complained.
“Just wait until you get to the pussy rap, Cornelia,” cackled Hay Lin from down the line. “Me and Irma have been practicing in our free time.”
“If we get that far I'll hang up,” Cornelia warned, shaking her head in dismay.
Irma stuck her tongue out, before gleefully turning her attention back to the phone.
“So what's this call about anyway, Hay Lin?”
“I thought you could use a practice model for when you and Cornelia make your big announcement!” Hay Lin chirped. “If Cornelia's parents are as hard to convince as I've been told.”
“When they find out the first thing they'll ask is which one of us is the man in the relationship,” Cornelia deadpanned. Hay Lin burst out laughing.
“Well, of course they're gonna assume it's me,” Irma grumbled, “just because I wear sports bras and read comic books and can burp up to F in the alphabet.”
“Well, hit me with your perfectly crafted coming out speech,” Hay Lin interrupted cheerfully, with a thump as she lowered the boxes. “I'll give you a worst case scenario so you'll feel better!”
“This is never gonna work,” Irma giggled.
“I'm not doing this.”
“Come oooooon,” Hay Lin whinged, and Irma joined in. “Do iiiiit.”
“Fine, fine!” Cornelia exhaled. “Ugh, here goes. Mother, Father, I've been meaning to say this for a while. I'm pansexual. It means that I, that I feel attraction so people regardless of their gender.”
Hay Lin cleared her throat, impersonating Harold Hale to the best of her ability. “Preposterous! Which one's the man and which is the woman, my darling Cornelia?!”
Irma snorted.
“Why would he be asking that if he doesn't know Cornelia's boning me yet?” Irma pointed out.
“Irma!” snapped Cornelia.
“Sorry, sorry,” Hay Lin apologised, undeterred. “Got into the part too much. Let me try again. Ahem. Cornelia, what does this mean? Are you saying you're a... a lesbian?!”
“This is painful,” complained Cornelia. “I refuse to take this any further.”
“So you are a lesbian??”
“Hay Lin!”
“Aw, I'm only teasing,” Hay Lin said cheerily, unapologetic. “They'll be fine once they get past the initial shock of it all. I mean, it's the 21st century! Times are changing! And for all you know, they could be really chill. I mean, my parents used to hate me watching Hell's Kitchen but now they tune into it with me!”
“That's not the same thing and you know it, Hay Lin!” Cornelia snapped. She huffed and took a moment to compose herself. “Anyway, you're probably right. I'm sure things will sort themselves out after the initial shock, and then-”
“Stop, stop!” Irma interrupted suddenly, waving her hand around. Cornelia frowned, eyes darting between her girlfriend and the road ahead.
“What are you-”
“You feel it in your pussy like I feel it in my bones! You investigate my labia like Sherlock Holmes!” chorused Irma and Hay Lin at a deafening volume, as Karmilla began to belt out her rap verse.
“No,” Cornelia snapped. “No, no, we're not doing this, guys, we're not doing this!”
“When you're kissing down my thighs I never felt so high, so do whatever you please, 'cause when I cum I'm gonna fly!”
“ENOUGH!!”
…
The sun was beginning to sink lower in the sky as they pulled up the driveway, not quite sunset yet. After exhausting Karmilla's album Cornelia had switched it to some station playing cheesy 90s hits, which had resulted in a passionate sing-along born out of pure nostalgia for childhood road trips as Irma had taken over the final stretch in the driver's seat.
She awkwardly parked behind Mr Hale's chevy camaro, the speakers blaring out the last few lines of Breakfast At Tiffany's as they sat stationary. Her own car felt a little redundant in comparison.
“Your dad has good taste,” Irma said with a wolf-whistle. “How come he hasn't bought you a car yet?”
“He's waiting for my birthday,” Cornelia said with a shrug. “I told him I was interested in a prius. Mom told him that was too pricey for my first car, of course.”
“You have your dad wrapped around your finger, he'll hand it over to you gift-wrapped.” Irma leaned in for a quick peck on the cheek, and instinctively Cornelia moved away.
“Irma, please,” she said quietly, a sigh just beyond her lips. “We... we have to be careful.”
Irma rolled her eyes and leaned against the steering wheel.
“I know. Just, don't leave it too late, okay? The sooner you rip off the band-aid the better. At least they'll have the whole of Christmas to get over it, y'know?”
Cornelia nodded, reaching across to squeezed Irma's arm.
“Shall we do this?”
“Christmas break with the Hales,” Irma drawled. “Can't wait.”
Cornelia's parents looked poised and stylish as ever when they answered the door, and Harold wasted no time in sweeping Cornelia up into a tight hug while Elizabeth smiled and nodded poliely at Irma.
“Oh, how have you been, sweetheart?” Harold asked, rocking her a little in his arms. “Any trouble getting here? Feeling all right?”
“Dad, I'm fine,” Cornelia insisted, pulling away slowly. “And the journey went smoothly. Irma picked me up on time and we didn't hit any traffic.”
“Good, that's good.” He patted her shoulder as Elizabeth rolled her eyes.
“They're both over twenty now, dear, perfectly capable of getting here in one piece. It's good to see you, Irma. Please allow us to pay you for the fuel, ferrying our daughter over here.”
Irma opened her mouth, but Cornelia cut in quickly.
“Mother, that isn't necessary!”
“Hey, I want some money back if it's up for grabs,” Irma hissed in her ear.
Elizabeth shook her head. “No no, I insist. It's so lovely of you to join us. I was a little worried all of your school friends would be tagging along. We wouldn't have the room, frankly.”
Irma glanced at Cornelia.
“They were busy,” Cornelia said quickly. She shifted the suitcase she was holding and Harold instinctively reached for it. “Will and Taranee are studying and Hay Lin's helping her parents.”
“And mystery botanist man couldn't join?” Harold asked with a wink, hoisting the case out of her arms.
Cornelia blushed, refusing to look at Irma, and hurriedly choked out, “No, he could not!”
“Oh Harold, don't tease,” Elizabeth scolded, as he heaved the suitcase inside. “Come inside now, girls, it's chilly out.”
Irma drank in the sight with eyes as wide as saucers. The Hales had a swish set up, the cabin rustic yet elegant, with creams and cornflower blues somehow blending seamlessly with rich reds and golds. It sure beat the beach cabin she and her family visited every summer, that much was for sure. Her dad had a habit of hanging up those dumb singing fish plaques, as opposed to the deer head as a proud centrepiece in the Hales family cabin.
“This place is amazing,” Irma breathed.
“It's something, all right,” Cornelia sighed, a little off put by the hunting trophy herself. “Was that a gift from Uncle Edward, Dad?”
“Sure was! You know what they called me whenever my old man took us hunting? Tree Hugger Harold,” her father said with an awkward chuckle. “Could never bring myself to pull the trigger, myself. He spent a few days here before we made the journey, so we haven't had the chance to take it down yet...”
“Don't take it down, it's cool!” interrupted Lillian, dashing out of the guest bedroom with a scarf in hand. “I want to make him wear this when we decorate!”
“That isn't very tasteful, Lillian,” Elizabeth chastised, but Harold let out a hearty laugh and scooped her up into his arms.
“I suppose he won't have any complaints, will he?”
“You ever heard a disembodied deer head bitch about wearing a snowman scarf?” Irma muttered to Cornelia, who stifled a guffaw behind her hand. She waved hesitantly at Lillian. “Hey there, Lil.”
Lillian gave back a mechanical wave.
“Hi Irma.”
As usual, they had nothing to say to each other. Irma scratched the back of her head awkwardly.
After a beat of awkward silence, Cornelia pulled her over to one side.
“Here, let me take your coat.”
“Your sister is as sociable towards me as always,” Irma joked, shimmying out of her jacket and leaning into Cornelia's touch for a few moments before moving back.
“She's doing that teenager thing where she hates talking to anyone who isn't behind a gaming headset,” Cornelia remarked, hanging the jacket up beside the coats of the other family members. It felt a little like assimilation into the lives of the Hales, and filled Irma with a strange sense of gratitude, even if at the end of the day it only boiled down to them saving a hook for her coat. “Chris must be like that too?”
“Yeah, but he's been that way since he was eight,” pointed out Irma, shaking her head. “Every time I try and worm a conversation out of him he tells me he's busy. You know the PS4 was a gift for both of us?”
Cornelia cracked a grin and pinched Irma's cheek playfully.
“You poor thing. We'll reclaim it when we go to yours, Alchemy mentioned she lent you a few games that I'd enjoy too.”
“Yeah! You like horror, right? There's Until Dawn, Outlast... oh man, and The Evil Within! That one's gory!”
“I don't know about that...”
…
“So, I noticed this place is devoid of decorations,” Irma commented, as they set about laying the table. Dinner was almost ready, and Cornelia's parents were insistent on taking care of the cooking for tonight since they had spent the day driving.
“They have a thing about it being unlucky to decorate unless we're all helping,” Cornelia explained with a sigh, distributing the silverware to each place mat. “We'll start on it tomorrow.”
“Cutting it a little close, don't you think?”
“I wanted to put up the tree days ago but Dad wouldn't let me,” Lillian huffed, sitting herself down and throwing her napkin across her lap before whipping out her phone. She began furiously texting, and Cornelia and Irma exchanged wry smiles.
“I did tell them that they didn't have to wait,” Cornelia said with a shrug, as they took their seats beside one another. “It's not my fault Mom and Dad are superstitious.”
“Wouldn't have pegged them as the type,” Irma remarked. She laced her fingers through Cornelia's, carefully obscured by the tablecloth, and flashed her a cheeky grin. “You don't take after them much, do you, Corny?”
Cornelia squeezed her hand firmly, holding her gaze.
“We lead different lives,” she said simply.
Elizabeth and Harold swept in briskly, setting down dishes of marinated cabbage, roast potatoes and a large portion of roast beef (as if an afterthought, Elizabeth hurriedly brought out a plate of vegetarian sausages for Cornelia). Harold poured everyone a glass of wine, and Irma couldn't help but wonder how Cornelia's parents kept up the gig of acting sophisticated all the time, even in the comfort of their own home.
They murmured a few words of thanks, before plating everyone up.
“So Irma, you're doing a teaching degree?” Elizabeth asked politely, as the family began to tuck in.
“Er, that's right. Not sure what subject I want to teach yet, maybe math or geography...”
“I think that will suit you marvellously,” Harold praised, in between bites of cabbage. “Teachers do far more than set homework, you know. They inspire! They set you upon your life path! Why, if I hadn't had such a passionate math tutor as a young man...”
Irma tuned out, glancing over at Cornelia. They'd gone over her plan multiple times during the drive, to the point where it was practically scripted, but as they sat there munching on potatoes, it became painfully obvious that Cornelia was frozen to the spot, wanting to cling to this moment of her parents' blissful ignorance for as long as she could. It wasn't like she could reach over to hold her hand with Elizabeth watching them both like a hawk, anyway. All she could do at this point was try and push Cornelia in the right direction.
“...and I simply wouldn't be the man I am today if I hadn't followed his advice and gone to the college he'd suggested,” Harold finished with a proud smile.
“Well, the college I'm attending isn't prestigious or anything, but I'm doing pretty well,” Irma said sheepishly, taking a sip of wine. It was dry and bitter, clinging to her tongue like sandpaper.
“That's what counts, my dear. And Cornelia, my sweet girl! How are your classes going? And how is your mystery chap?”
“About that,” Irma began, glancing over at Cornelia nervously.
“Classes are going well,” Cornelia said quickly. “And... he's, um... he's doing well, too.”
Irma gaped at her.
“Well, that's good,” Elizabeth murmured. “Though I do wish you'd tell us more about him. His age? Does he work?”
“We've only been out a few times,” Cornelia said quickly. “There's not much to tell.”
“Is he a good kisser?” Lillian piped up with a sly grin.
“Lillian!” Cornelia snapped.
“Well, talking to you about your boyfriend is like pulling teeth!”
“Stop arguing, you two!”
As the bickering continued, both parents intervening, Irma miserably chewed through her food, knowing the topic wouldn't be broached tonight.
…
After the plates had been cleared and Lillian had retreated to her room, Irma and Cornelia took to sitting out on the porch, staring up at the stars that were so much clearer than from the Heatherfield cityscape. It was freezing out there, their breath visible in puffs, but there was something tranquil about it too. As an added bonus, Cornelia knew her parents wouldn't be able to stand the cold and would grant them some privacy.
“Hey, Corny. I love you.”
Cornelia's eyes flickered over to Irma. She was looking pretty frost-bitten, with only a thin blanket thrown over her lap and cradling a cup of cocoa like a lifeline, but her eyes were filled with a tender warmth that had Cornelia melting instantly.
“Even though I didn't follow through like I promised?” she said softly, self-doubt creeping in as the winter stars twinkled overhead. Irma scoffed.
“Honey, I know a thing or two about how hard it is to say it to your parents. You gotta take it at your own pace.”
“I'll do it tomorrow,” Cornelia promised, mouth pulled into a resolute grimace. “I won't back down.”
“Simmer down, earth guardian, this isn't like going to battle against some otherworldly lizard villain,” Irma teased. “Do this when you're ready, not because you feel like you owe me.” She paused. “Of course, that's something else I love about you. You tackle everything with the same determination. Cramming for exams, kicking alien butt, giving me hickeys...”
“Irma, that was one time!” she admonished, face pink with indignation. She lowered her gaze, cheeks pinkening from more than the cold. “Where's this all coming from?”
Irma shrugged.
“Not sure, really. Could be my heart, but then, my clit's aching, so...”
“Irma!” Cornelia squeaked, reaching over to shove her playfully. Irma erupted into giggles, pushing caramel curls away from her face.
“Hey, I've been waiting months to see you again, and you're telling me we can't even have sex for another week because the fucking camp bed won't be able to stand it. You can't blame me for feeling horny.”
“Self control, please?” Cornelia huffed, but she was smiling. “My parents could be listening in for all you know.”
“Your dad is helping himself to some scotch and your mom is watching Law and Order,” Irma pointed out, rolling her eyes. “I think we're safe.”
“My mother's so nosy, she'll be checking up on us any minute now,” Cornelia continued, taking a sip of cocoa. “Anyway, I love you too. Not that you need reminding.”
“Hey, you're hard to read sometimes,” Irma defended. “And anxiety can be a real bitch. I'm one of those needy types who craves constant validation, you know how it is.”
Cornelia pulled a face.
“Constant validation? I'm not qualified enough. You'll have to demand it from me or I'll never remember to say anything at all.”
“The hell kind of girlfriend are you?” Irma uncrossed her legs and stuck her foot out from beneath the blanket to lightly nudge Cornelia's knee. “Be nice to me, my self-esteem is shit.”
“Though why, I can't imagine,” Cornelia said softly, shaking her head. “I mean, you're beautiful, you're intelligent, you have a wonderful sense of humour, aside from being annoying and inappropriate at times... there's just so many things to like. I can't understand why you'd devalue yourself.”
Irma rested her chin in her hand dreamily. “Well, hot damn. This is why I need you complimenting me all the time, you're a fucking natural at it.”
Cornelia blushed. “It's hardly my fault you're so easy to compliment, is it?”
“Even when you're sassing me it's complimentary,” Irma exclaimed in disbelief, snorting.
She scooted her chair closer to Cornelia's, almost spilling her cocoa in the process, if not for the advantage of Cornelia's telekinesis on their side keeping it in check. She threw the blanket over the both of them and rested her head against Cornelia's shoulder.
“I will tell them,” Cornelia said gently, as they stared up at the sky of stars. “It's not that I'm ashamed of you, Irma. It's just... harder than I thought it would be, now I'm face to face with them.”
“For the last time, Corny, you don't gotta justify yourself,” Irma scolded, pulling her in closer. “What kind of girlfriend would I be if I got worked up over something like this? You said it yourself, this is about you, not just our relationship. So stop beating yourself up every two seconds just because you're not sticking to the plan, it's the first damn day!”
Cornelia huffed out a laugh and pressed a quick kiss to the top of Irma's head.
“I love you, dork.”
“I love you, blondie.”
As they huddled under the blanket, basking in the crispness of the cold night air, Elizabeth peered at them through the window. She opened her mouth to speak, but something compelled her to stay silent. Instead she watched, with uncomfortable curiosity, as Irma and Cornelia's hands clasped together.
Wordlessly, she left them to it.