Work Text:
It’s strange how certain moments make your life shift into focus like you’re in an old movie. Princess Carolyn, meticulous as she is, has catalogued those moments diligently: the moment she kissed BoJack Horseman for the first time, the moment she stepped into Vigor, the moment she held Ruthie in her arms. She tries her hardest not to be a romantic at heart, but there’s always been some part of her that’s imagined her life unfolding like a storybook, a tapestry, an old movie on a crappy VHS tape. Someday, she thinks, everything in her life will make narrative sense, because she’ll reach that moment where she has everything she’s ever wanted.
But there’s always been some miserably cynical part of her that’s believed just as fervently in the impossibility of her dreams, and it’s the part that has been with her the longest. It’s the part that tells her that her belief in happy endings is a coping mechanism, that the best she’ll ever have is BoJack, that she can be a manager or a mother but she can’t be both. It’s the loudest part of her at the end of the day, and sometimes Princess Carolyn has felt like her entire life has really just been about drowning it out. She’s all about spinning a situation to best suit her client—it’s almost too easy to spin her own life into a story she can swallow.
She’s always imagined true happiness as something laughably unattainable.
Princess Carolyn is thinking about this as she does her work at midnight on a Friday—Saturday now, she supposes—and the man she thinks she might be in love with works quietly alongside her. She doesn’t feel the way she always felt around BoJack: frustrated and desperate and longing and altogether worthless. She just kind of feels this soft, quiet glow in her chest, because when she finishes this last email, she’s going to cross the room and kiss Judah, and then she’s going to take him home. She’s never been so certain of anything in her life.
And Judah, because he knows her so well, looks up almost as soon as she’s shutting down her computer. He doesn’t look nervous about her reaction, or apprehensive now that she’s standing up; he stands up too, eyes on hers in that intent, intense way that makes her feel like she’s the center of his entire world. She realizes without much surprise that he’s been looking at her like that for a very long time now.
She never expected to have a moment like this. Not where she’s facing the best man she knows, and he’s in love with her, and she’s in love with him. Not when it feels like something they’ve both worked their asses off to build together. Not in a world where that voice in the back of her head has finally, finally shut its trap.
“I love you too, Judah,” she says. The words feel so strangely mundane as she says them—the way one might comment on the weather, or the traffic, or all those other unchanging things that are just a part of the world around them. When did being this in love become such a simple, steady part of her landscape?
Judah takes a step forward and towards her. “About the production company?” he says.
Princess Carolyn has to bite back a hysterical laugh.
“Princess Carolyn, are you all right?”
“It’s just—” Princess Carolyn doesn’t manage to subdue her second giggle. “Wow! You really weren’t kidding when you said me being at the show might make eye contact difficult at work, huh? Were you gonna play that song—”
“Yes.”
“—at the—really?”
“Yes.” Though Judah’s expression doesn’t change much, Princess Carolyn’s known him long enough to catch the warm sparkle in his eyes. “Though I might have omitted your name when performing, given that such a brazen declaration might not have seemed appropriate at a concert venue. And surrounded by so many of our coworkers.”
“Wouldn’t want to sit in on that HR meeting,” says Princess Carolyn. She thinks she’s probably smiling enough for the both of them.
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Oh?”
“About the production company—”
Impulsively, Princess Carolyn kisses him. Judah stumbles a little, then steadies himself, tugging her carefully into his arms as he kisses her back. He’s so sweet, she thinks, reaching up to tangle her fingers in his unprofessionally long hair. Sweet, and kind, and thoughtful, and conscientious, and he gets her in a way she doesn’t think any of her previous partners ever really have. She’s always followed her heart when it comes to relationships, but this is the first time it’s led her to something that actually makes sense on paper.
Judah holds her very gently. She thinks she likes that. She’s expecting him to pull away—there’s still work to be done, after all, and neither of them have really discussed the plans for a possible production company, and Judah isn’t one to leave loose ends hanging for too long—but Judah just keeps kissing her, sweet and slow. So Princess Carolyn stands on tiptoe and presses herself into him, and lets him enfold her in his arms, and pulls away only because she wants to rest her cheek against his shoulder.
Neither of them say anything for a little while.
“I have loved you for a very long time, Princess Carolyn,” says Judah steadily. “I think you should know that.”
“I do,” says Princess Carolyn. She doesn’t know how she does, but she does. It’s one of those rare, beautiful moments where the world’s shifted sideways and ended up clearer. “I don’t really know how long I’ve been in love with you—”
“I have a few solid estimates,” says Judah, which makes Princess Carolyn start laughing and then kiss him again. And he never seems to stop kissing her when he’s started—which, she suddenly realizes, is because Judah Mannowdog is a single-minded man, and Princess Carolyn is the single biggest thing on his mind. She’d been so sure it was work—
“You know I’m not that good at balancing my work life with my—” she begins, pulling back.
“I don’t mind working in silence with you,” says Judah. “I enjoy it. Which isn’t to say that I wouldn’t also enjoy spending time with you outside the office—only to say that there’s no need for you to attempt to further balance your already well-balanced life.”
Princess Carolyn scoffs. “I wouldn’t call it well-balanced,” she says skeptically. “The last time I had a steady boyfriend, I just wasn’t working.”
“I don’t think you’d be Princess Carolyn if you weren’t working,” says Judah. The smile in his eyes hasn’t left for even a second.
“I love you,” says Princess Carolyn, the words stumbling a little in their haste to get out.
“Yes, I think we’ve clarified that. I don’t mind repeating it, though.” Judah hesitates, then leans in, kissing her a little more clumsily now that it’s him initiating. It’s awkward and sweet, sincere in the same way as his love song, and—
“Oh!” Princess Carolyn pulls back. “I don’t even think I got around to telling you that I really liked your song.”
“I think you implied it heavily enough,” says Judah.
“I can’t really invite you up,” says Princess Carolyn apologetically when they pull up in front of her apartment. “It’s been a really long night, I don’t know if I’m up to entertaining—”
“You keep acting as though this is a first date,” says Judah. “It isn’t. I love you. If you need anything, I’m here to help.”
Princess Carolyn finds herself knocked sideways. It’s not the first time that other people have offered to help her, but it’s the first time that she finds herself both willing and able to accept someone’s offer. This is a moment that feels huge and important in the same way as Judah’s declaration—unexpected and inevitable all in one.
With some effort, she says, “I could maybe use some help getting Ruthie to bed.”
“Of course.”
Princess Carolyn decides to push her luck. “And,” she says. “Some help getting me to bed.”
“Of…course,” says Judah. It’s dark in the car, but she thinks she can catch him blushing.
“If you catch my drift.”
“I may be somewhat literal in the workplace, but we are not on company time,” says Judah. “And even if we were, that statement would be extremely difficult to misconstrue.”
Princess Carolyn smiles at the glove compartment. She reaches over in the dark, lacing her fingers with Judah’s, and they stay like that for a handful of quiet, incredible minutes. “I love you,” she says again, because she’s getting used to saying it and is stunned at how much sense it makes. Nothing in her life has ever fallen together this wonderfully.
Judah raises their joined hands to press a kiss to her knuckles. “You are an exceptional woman,” he says, “and I am very glad that I am finally in a position where I can tell you that without it being both unprofessional and unwanted.”
“It might’ve been wanted—”
“Not in the same way it is now, I think.”
He’s so annoyingly fucking astute. Princess Carolyn’s smile grows as she turns in the dark to look at him. “Maybe not,” she acquiesces. “I guess I’m gonna have to thank you, huh?”
“Oh?”
“For waiting around while I played catch-up.”
“You tend to not give yourself enough credit. I think you should work on that.”
“Well, I didn’t realize until just now that I’ve been in love with you for—for god knows how long, Judah, so I think that warrants me giving myself a little less credit than usual—”
“No, never,” says Judah. He lets go of her hand, moving to brush his fingers against her cheek in a way that makes Princess Carolyn shiver. Is that even a thing that a lady in her mid-forties is still allowed to do? “You have a lot of things on your mind at any given day. It stands to reason that various important bits of information might slip your notice.”
“Does it,” says Princess Carolyn, who is only halfway listening. She’s having trouble thinking of anything outside the way Judah’s hand is tenderly cupping her face.
“Yes,” says Judah. “That’s where I come in. I’m very detail-oriented and extremely focused, as I’m sure you know—”
“You sound like you’re reading me your goddamn resume, Judah,” says Princess Carolyn, trying to make her words sound acerbic and playful. They come out sounding—not smitten, not exactly, but happier than she thinks she’s ever been. “You know you’ve already got the job, right?”
“Of…what, exactly?”
“We don’t have to put labels on it if you don’t want—” Halfway through, Princess Carolyn remembers who she’s talking to. “You know what, never mind. What kind of labels do you want?”
“That is entirely up to you,” says Judah. “I’m happy enough just to be with you.”
Princess Carolyn hadn’t really been expecting this response, and as such, doesn’t have enough wherewithal to regulate her immediate reaction—which is to lurch clumsily forward and kiss Judah again like they’re teenagers or something. Making out in a car—she hasn’t done something like that since the nineties. She thinks she should feel more ridiculous than she does.
Judah pulls back. He looks at her like he’s about to say something, but instead, he leans in and kisses her forehead. That jagged, miserable part of Princess Carolyn crumbles into dust. “I’ll take you upstairs,” he says. “And put Ruthie to bed. And put you to bed.”
“Oh, so now you can handle subtext?” says Princess Carolyn. Even in the dark, both of them can hear the way she’s smiling.
Ruthie wakes up at four in the morning to cry, which has been happening less frequently now but of course has to happen when Princess Carolyn is settled comfortably in Judah’s arms and has been getting some actual goddamn sleep. But she loves her daughter, so she pulls herself apologetically free from a drowsy Judah, throws on a bathrobe, and stumbles over to Ruthie’s crib. Putting on her mittens, she tugs Ruthie up and into her arms, bouncing her with hard-earned expertise. (God, she hates that Vanessa Gekko was right. She tries not to, but she does.)
Ruthie settles a little more easily this time around. She still isn’t going to sleep any time soon, but she does stop crying, which is probably a good thing for Judah. But—no, when Princess Carolyn looks across the bedroom, Judah is sitting up and checking his work email in an adorably businesslike way for someone who’s missing his glasses and hair tie and literally all of his clothing.
He looks at home in this room, Princess Carolyn thinks. She kind of likes that.
Ruthie makes a fussy little noise that Princess Carolyn has learned means she wants her mama’s attention. “Hey, you,” murmurs Princess Carolyn, looking down at her baby’s big brown eyes. “Hi. Little early to be up, isn’t it?”
“Early bird gets the worm, I’ve heard,” says Judah mildly.
“Yes, well, my baby’s not a bird and she’s not gonna start waking up at four in the morning.” Princess Carolyn bounces Ruthie a few more times. “Come on, honey. I know you’re still a little bit sleepy, huh?” She gives Judah an apologetic smile. “I’m gonna walk her around the living room. I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be here,” says Judah. There’s so much warmth in the way he looks at her.
Princess Carolyn walks out of the bedroom and into the living room, Ruthie in her arms. She’s thinking, now, about what she said to BoJack that night at Wesleyan: about all the different stories in her lives, the ones she tells herself, the ones she’s always wanted to have a happy ending. She’s thinking about the story she’ll tell her daughter, years from now—the story so different from the one she’s been telling herself for the last twenty-five years.
“Once upon a time,” she says to Ruthie, “I got a little lost—but I fell in love, and I found you.”