Chapter Text
Three’s thumb rubbed small circles in the palm of Eight’s hand. They were sitting together on a bench in the park, and Three had her head resting on Eight’s shoulder as they watched the central fountain gurgle.
“The park is really pretty,” Eight said.
Three shrugged. “It’s alright.”
“Thanks for agreeing to come.”
“Yeah, whatever. I still think parks are dumb.”
“I know, Three,” Eight placated.
“Are you patronizing me?”
“Of course not, Three.”
Three grumbled under her breath. “You’re lucky that you’re a good pillow.”
Eight laughed, and turned her head, and Three couldn’t help but smile, looking into her eyes. Their faces moved together, soft lips brushing against each other. Three wrapped her arms around Eight, their tentacles intertwining together, and Three deepened the kiss.
After a couple seconds, they pulled apart, smiling and staring at each other.
“You taste good,” Eight observed idly.
Three felt her cheeks heat up. “Um. Thanks. You also taste—ACK!”
Something was in her throat. What the fuck. Was that a bug? Did a bug just fly into her fucking throat right in the middle of her kissing her girlfriend? What the fuck. Three coughed and hacked, pounding a fist against her chest. Just her fucking luck.
“Three? Three, are you okay?”
Three wheezed, and gave Eight a look. Did she look okay?! There was a fucking bug in her throat!
“Are you choking?” Eight set her jaw. “Don’t worry, I’ve got this.”
Without warning, Eight sucker punched Three right in the gut, causing her to violently jettison the fly from her trachea. “FUCK!” Three yelled, then coughed a couple more times, before wiping her mouth. Her diaphragm felt fucking dented, but at least the goddamn fly was gone. Definitely worth the pain. Once she’d taken a moment to recover, she turned to Eight. “Thanks.”
“Oh, any time,” Eight said, as she watched the insect buzz away into the sky. “That was exciting.”
“This is why I didn’t want to do something outside,” Three grumped. “There are bugs. I hate bugs.”
Eight nodded absently, then pulled out a small notebook from her jacket pocket, scribbling something down.
Three perked up, looking intensely at the small journal. Eight shifted ever-so-slightly, blocking Three’s sight. Three couldn’t tell if it was intentional or not; it was certainly frustrating, either way. Eight subtly jotted something down in it a couple times a date, and Three was beginning to grow curious.
“I’ve been meaning to ask,” she began, “what do you keep writing in that notebook?”
Eight froze mid-sentence. Her eyes shot to Three, shot to her notebook, and then back to Three. “Nothing.” She finished scribbling whatever she was scribbling without looking, and hastily shoved the book back into her jacket. “Hey, do you think anyone’s died in the fountain before?”
Three turned to the fountain. It was an interesting question. “Probably. I mean, people throw money in there for good luck, right? And with the public spawns, it’s not like there’s a high risk. I’m sure someone who really needed some extra cash decided to—” Wait. Three turned to Eight, who subtly motioned for her to go on. “Are you trying to change the subject?”
Eight bit her lip. “No.”
Three narrowed her eyes. “What’s in the journal? Why don’t you want me to see it? Is it embarrassing? What’s so important to you that you would write it down right in front of me while at the same time not wanting me to know about it?”
Eight was beginning to sweat, her eyes flicking back and forth. “Ummm…”
Three narrowed her eyes even further, piercing into Eight’s soul. Eight stared back, guilty, but unwilling to give Three any ground. Their eyes were locked in a battle of wills for what felt like hours, until Eight finally cleared her throat. Three braced herself; what angle would Eight take to get out of this? She had to prepared for anything.
“Wanna go get ice cream?” Eight asked innocently. “I’ll pay.”
Three frowned. Damn. That was a pretty good angle. “Fine. Keep your secrets. But I’m getting three scoops.”
From what sounded like a few feet to her left, Three heard someone whisper, “Now finish the kiss!”
“Oh my god!” Three whipped around, instinctually slamming an open palm straight into what turned out to be Callie’s nose.
“Ow! Jesus, Three!” Callie whined, clutching at her face.
“That’s what you get for stalking our dates.”
“You’re so ungrateful. That would’ve been the perfect time for a kiss and you know it!”
Three rolled her eyes. “Come on, Eight. Let’s go.”
They got up from the bench and started walking. “Does this always happen when people start dating?” Eight asked.
“Only if you’re unfortunate enough to be friends with these assholes,” Three answered.
Eight paused in thought. “I wonder how they keep finding out when our dates are.”
Three turned and watched as Callie snuck into a nearby alley, like some sort of shitty fugitive. “Good question.”
Eight sat at her desk, trying to arrange her notebook and two pieces of paper so they all fit without overlapping. She had enough new items in her notebook to update the master copy of her list. She uncapped a pen, and, in systematically perfect handwriting, titled the blank paper “Things Three Hates.” Then, right under that, “Edition 2: Alphabetized!” because alphabetization was the only truly impartial organization method for lists, and she wanted this to be as impartial as possible, as this was supposed to be an accurate reference material.
Then, she set about the arduous task of transcribing items.
Art students
Autobombs
Being honest about how she feels
Bras
Callie
Danny (Still don’t know who this is. Should I ask?)
DJ Octa—
“Whatcha working on?”
Crap.
Immediately, Eight jumped up and whipped around, one hand holding her pen like a shiv, and the other flat on her desk, doing a shoddy job of obscuring the documents. “What’s it to you?” she asked darkly.
Pearl smirked. “Oh, hah! Now I’ve gotta see! You’re not writing love letters to Three or anything, are you?”
Eight reddened. “What? No! That’s—No! It’s nothing.”
“C’mon, let me see!” Pearl insisted, like the nosy little didizaste she was.
Bluh. Only Pearl could make Eight start breaking out the Octarian curses.
Pearl pushed past Eight to look at the lists on her desk, and started cracking up. “Oh my god.”
Eight sighed, defeated, and waited uncomfortably as Pearl read through her list. After a couple dozen seconds of giggling, she let out a gasp. “‘Pearl while she’s rapping?’” Pearl read. “Did she really say that?”
Eight nodded. “That’s pretty good though, all things considered. That means she doesn’t hate you at other times, which puts you above Callie, Marie, and Four.”
“Yeah, but it means she specifically doesn’t like my rapping, which is just ridiculous. I mean, my rapping’s great!”
Eight sucked in a low breath, and decided not to say anything.
“You know, Four seems to be on here an awful lot. It’s, like, a fourth of the whole list.”
Eight sighed, thankful for the subject change. “Yeah. There’s even more in my journal that I’m gonna have to transcribe onto the second version. It’s getting a bit out of hand, honestly.”
Pearl gave a laugh. “You’re gonna have start bundling them into categories!”
“Hmm… That’s not a bad idea,” Eight pondered, fiddling with her pen. “It would get the general point across, but it would save space, and prevent all the Four-related hatreds from overshadowing all the others… Good idea, Pearl?”
“Yeah, no problem, I’m full of ‘em,” Pearl said nonchalantly. “Just wondering, though, how did this even… start? Not that I don’t fully support it with my whole heart, because I do.”
“Well, it started as just a mental list,” Eight explained. “I was a little bit intimidated by Three when I first met her, you know?”
Pearl nodded understandingly. “Same. And I wasn’t even almost killed by her multiple times.”
Eight shuddered involuntary. Thank you for bringing up those happy memories, Pearl!
She shook her head to clear it. “Yeah. So I didn’t want to upset her or anything, so I kept a mental list of the things she said she didn’t like. But it turns out she hates too many things to remember, so I started writing them down.” Eight gestures to the lists. “At some point, I realized that she doesn’t actually hate all this, she just really likes venting frustration by declaring her hatred for things. But I kept keeping track, because it’s fun.”
“Aww,” Pearl said. “That’s really cute, in a really fucking weird way that somehow makes perfect sense for you two.”
Eight raised an eyebrow. “…Thanks?”
“You’re welcome.” Pearl turned towards the door. “Well, I’ll leave you to it. Have fun!”
As Pearl left, Eight sat back down, and raised her pen.
—vio
Dude-bros (?)
E-Liter campers
Emotions
Everything
Four…
Pearl watched from around the doorframe as Eight finished transcribing her list. She neatly slid it under some books, before stuffing her notebook back into her pocket and throwing her old list away. Then, she got up.
Quickly, Pearl slid around the corner and ran into the bathroom, closing the door behind her. After she heard Eight’s footsteps pass, she dodged out and maneuvered her way into Eight’s room, angling for the trashcan. After a few seconds of digging around, she’d gotten her hands on the discarded list 1.0.
“Yes!” she cheered, standing back up.
“Uh, Pearlie?” came a voice from behind her.
Shit.
“Why are you digging through Eight’s trash?”
“Oh! I’m, uh, taking it out. You know.”
“Oh, really?” Marina smiled. “Well, it’s good to see you finally showing some initiative. Don’t forget the kitchen and bathroom cans!”
As Marina took her leave, Pearl groaned. She hated taking out the trash. This was all Eight’s fault!
“Ugh. The things I do for young love.” Sighing, she ventured to the kitchen to see if she remembered where they kept the trash bags.
(She didn't.)
Four sat down at her her dining room table along with her guests. Her apartment was newly cleaned for the occasion—not that it was ever very messy. She wasn’t Three. But nevertheless, she had put some extra care into it for today.
A year ago, even with her professional turfing career taking off, she never would’ve imagined that she’d be inviting three of the most popular singers of the decade into her house. But here she was.
“Thank you all for coming,” she began, steepling her fingers and eyeing the others at the table. “I decided to hold this meeting because I’ve brought a new member onto the operation. Please welcome Pearl of Off the Hook.”
“Sorry I’m late, I had to take out the trash,” Pearl said.
“Pearl has been very useful to the operation already,” Four went on, “as she has been our prime source for when Three and Eight are going on a date.”
“Uh, Four? We already know who she is,” Callie said. “You don’t need to introduce her.”
Four rolled her eyes. “Well, I’m sorry for being professional. This is an important addition to our forces! She’s Eight’s mom!”
“Um, I’m not her mom,” Pearl said, awkwardly twirling her water. “Marina and I are just letting her live with us until she’s ready to move out and taching her how to, like, live on the surface and shit.”
“That’s literally what parenting is,” Marie deadpanned.
“Hey, speaking of Marina,” Four said, “could she not make it? I invited both of you.”
Pearl laughed. “Yeah, she said that this is a terrible idea and that we should just let their relationship develop naturally. What a fucking nerd, amiright?”
Everyone nodded sagely in agreement.
Callie waved her hand. “It’s fine, we don’t need her. I’m sure you’ve got all sorts of juicy stuff on Eight that we can use to our advantage!”
“You know, since you’re her mom and all,” Marie added.
“Shut it,” Pearl said flatly. “But yeah. Actually, I stumbled upon something really good this morning. Here.” She pulled out a piece of paper, and tossed it onto the table before going on. “Apparently, Eight has been keeping a running list of everything Three says she hates. She just made her second edition, so I stole the old one out of her trash can.”
Four leaned forward. “A list of things Three hates? That’s gonna be pretty long.”
“No kidding,” Marie said. “I can think of a ton right off the top of my head.”
“Well, she only started writing them down about a week after meeting Three,” Pearl explained. “And she’s just kind of kept at it. I think the new list is forty-five items long? She’s really dedicated to it.”
“That’s so cute,” Callie said.
“Writing down a list of things your significant other hates is cute?” Marie asked.
Callie shrugged. “I mean, it’s Three. It’s not like she’d be able to make a list of the things Three loves.”
“Oh, easy,” Marie said. “Battling. Orange juice. Grandpa’s zapfish plushies. Eight. Done.”
“Um, excuse me, you forgot me, Four, her best friend.”
Pearl laughed out loud. “Oh my god, Four. Have you even read the list?”
Four eyed her suspiciously. What was that supposed to mean? Curious, she picked up the paper and looked it over. Immediately, she started snickering. This was hilarious! Oh, Three… she never failed to impress.
Then Four reached the ‘F’ section.
“Oh my god. Why is there so much about me?” she asked, and the Squid Sisters nearly died on the spot laughing. “No, I’m serious. There is so much about me on here.”
“Yeah, I know,” Pearl said. “In the new version Eight had to summarize them into categories because they were taking up too much space.”
Four kept reading. “She hates my fashion sense? Now that’s just low. Also, I am not pretentious!” Marie immediately started cackling, pounding a fist against the table. Four frowned. “Well, screw you too.”
Marie smirked something awful, talking over her laughter. “Hate to break it to you, Four, sweetie, but I’m an actual celebrity, and not even I have a trophy case sitting right next to my front door so all my guests are forced to see it.”
“I earned those tournament trophies fair and square,” Four insisted, growing red in the face. “And that’s the only spot there was! It’s a small apartment!”
“Yeah, that’s actually something I’ve been wondering,” Pearl mentioned, leaning forward over the table. “Aren’t you, like, a pro turfing prodigy or some shit? Why do you still live in an apartment?”
“Because I don’t mind it, and I’m being responsible with my finances,” Four answered.
“Because she spends most of her paycheck buying the freshest new designer clothing in order to supplement her self worth with external corporate validation,” Callie appended.
“Oh, like you fucking pop stars don’t!” Four fumed. They come into her house and disparage her good name like this? She was beginning to understand why the first thing Three had ever said to her was not to trust the Squid Sisters.
“We’re getting off track,” Marie said with a wave of her hand.
Four huffed. “You’re right. Back to the matter at hand: how do we use this?”
Callie smiled. “I’ve got some ideas.”