Chapter Text
The morning is hazy and quiet, devoid of any obligations or alarms. When Velvet first wakes up it's to warmth and only dim light, despite the late hour, and sensations creep in slowly. Beside her, Eleanor shifts closer and buries her face against Velvet's neck, half awake and murmuring something unintelligible. Velvet wraps her arms around her and drifts back into a state of pleasant drowsing.
At least, up until a muffled thump drags her back into consciousness. Belatedly she realizes it was the door shutting - like someone just strolled in, no attempt to keep it quiet or knock it down - and a moment later there are sounds from the kitchen.
"Dammit, Magilou," Velvet growls under her breath. Eleanor remains asleep in her arms.
Velvet listens through the wall, trying to piece together what her guest is doing: the intermittent beeping must be the oven. Something is moved around, then the oven door closes. A chair scrapes across the linoleum floor.
It's this grating noise that finally gets Eleanor's attention. She lifts her head, eyes barely open. "What was..." Then the chair scrapes again, and she pushes herself up farther, alarm starting to sink in.
Velvet's arm steadies her. "I'm sure it's just Magilou. She has a key. It's been so long since she used it I forgot."
Eleanor continues to stare at the wall as if she might be able to peer through it and see their intruder. Eventually her gazes shifts to Velvet. "You gave her a key?"
Her voice is part skeptical and part incredulous. Velvet can't blame her; Magilou isn't exactly the most trustworthy acquaintance they have, and she and Velvet have been somewhat distant lately. But the lecture Eleanor surely has stored away on that topic doesn't come, so Velvet only shrugs.
"She was coming around all the time anyway, and I was tired of having to let her in. Or finding her waiting outside drenched or half-frozen when I came home."
"I see. That was when you were..."
The word dating doesn't quite make it out of her mouth, nor any synonym or approximation. It might be because she's tired and distracted, or it might be because she still doesn't know what to call it. Honestly, Velvet doesn't either; the thing she had with Magilou was bright and warm and thrilling but it wasn't anything like steady, not a relationship that fit into one fixed word. And then Velvet started seeing Eleanor more, and Magilou made herself scarcer, and...
Well, it's not as if Velvet drove her away. She doesn't think she could do that even if she tried - which, remarkably, she hasn't.
She's thinking now might be a good time to start, though, because this isn't what that key was intended for.
Sighing, she untangles herself from the bed and stands up. Eleanor's eyes follow her.
"Velvet?"
"I'm just going to go talk to her. Maybe chase her out."
She gets the sense Eleanor wants to say something else, but she doesn't stop her, so Velvet steps out into the hall and makes her way to the kitchen.
"What the hell are you doing here?" she asks as soon as Magilou comes into sight. Her guest is sprawled across two chairs by the table, flipping through a magazine, and barely even looks up as Velvet approaches.
"Thought I'd cook some breakfast," she says. "My oven's not working lately. You set it to the perfect temperature and the perfect time and yet the food'll come out practically scorched! I think something in it-"
"So you just let yourself in to use my kitchen?" Velvet rubs her forehead, trying to regain that blissful sense of calm she felt before the door woke her. "Why the fuck?"
Magilou shrugs. "You gave me the key. And you can have some, of course, and your girlfriend too. It's this amazing breakfast casserole, you've gotta try it."
Velvet narrows her eyes, about to question Magilou again, but immediately gives up. Of course she knew Eleanor was here; her shoes and coat are in the entrance, cleaner and brighter than anything Velvet wears.
As if to confirm, Eleanor appears a moment later, wrapping a robe around herself as she approaches. Magilou's face cracks into a smirk upon seeing her; Velvet has the sudden urge to punch it, along with a disturbingly possessive feeling.
"Anyway," Magilou says, gaze returning to her magazine, "it takes about half an hour to bake and then it's gotta cool, so you can go back to sleep, or whatever else you do together on quiet Sunday mornings."
The sly look on her face never quite leaves, and Eleanor's face immediately reddens. "We weren't-"
Velvet grabs her arm and turns her around. "Don't bother. Just come here."
Back in the bedroom, Velvet firmly shuts and then locks the door.
"Which do you think would be easier," she mutters, "getting that key back or getting a restraining order?"
Eleanor sits on the bed, expression uneasy. "Does she frequently misuse it?"
Velvet looks aside. "...No, not really. I mean, I don't generally mind her coming over, but... I don't need her barging in when you're here."
The room goes quiet for a minute. Eventually Eleanor asks, with a slight pause before her words, "Velvet, did you and Magilou ever... actually break up?"
Velvet's eyes widen, and then her forehead creases. "No. There was no need to break up because we never went out." Eleanor looks like she's about to say something, and Velvet hurries to add, "Don't worry, she understands that we're together now. She may act dumb but she's not that oblivious."
"It's not that I'm worried about so much as..." Eleanor seems to have to search for the words. "Maybe you need to clarify where you're at now. I know that's not how you two usually do things, but it may be better to talk about it. I'm sure she'll understand if you tell her not to come at certain times."
Velvet exhales. "You might have too much faith in her." Honestly, she can't begin to predict how Magilou will react. She used to come around whenever she pleased, regardless of what Velvet was doing, and then just when Velvet got used to that, she drifted away. Once a day, then twice a week, then thrice a month... Velvet has spoken to her mostly by text lately, and even that hasn't been much.
If she lays out clear rules about when Magilou can or can't drop in - not in the morning, not unannounced, don't expect meals - would Magilou ignore them? Or would she stop coming by altogether? Velvet is immediately annoyed by how much she dislikes both possibilities.
She goes to sit on the bed next to Eleanor, who's fiddling with the sleeves of her robe. Velvet has never seen the garment before, much less did she know Eleanor had brought more than her pajamas and a change of clothes. She looks good in it, though.
"I'll talk to her," Velvet says. "But I can't make any promises."