Work Text:
“She is the worst person in the world,” Flynn tells Julie on her way to class. Julie hums in response, seemingly engrossed in something on her phone.
Flynn rolls her eyes. “Julie! Pay attention to my dilemma!”
Sighing like this is such a chore, Julie closes her phone and slides it into her pocket. “Right, so you were complaining about Carrie again?”
“Why do you say ‘again’ like that? One of my best friend privileges is that I can complain about anyone I want and you have to simply agree with me!”
“It is according to the contract we wrote when we were seven,” Julie agrees easily enough. “But there’s complaining about someone and then there’s complaining about it every week before class for the ten-minute journey it takes for you to get to class and then sending me messages during class about it.”
Flynn pauses. She knew she complained about Carrie a lot, but she hadn’t realised exactly how much complaining she was doing. However, when she looks at Julie, her friend’s only smiling in amusement.
So, willing to keep complaining, Flynn continues her latest rant about Carrie, “It’s just- Who does she think she is coming to class wearing button-down tops? We’re uni students! We’re coming with our tracksuit pants and hoodies on not- not like we’re about to go to some formal ball or something. Who does that? Not to mention, she’s also such a pretentious bitch. She gives advice like all the time. Bitch, who do you think you are? Do you think I need this in my life? No! Butt out and let me make my bad decisions.”
Julie keeps listening the entire time, nodding her head, and humming when Flynn paused to breathe. All too soon, they’re stopping outside the building where Flynn’s class is.
“Wish me luck,” Flynn says gravely.
“Good luck,” Julie says, smiling, “I’ll expect you to text me in three minutes.”
Rolling her eyes, Flynn flaps her hands at Julie. “Go on,” she says, trying to hide her smile, “Get out of here. Go take your sarcasm elsewhere!”
“You love me!” Julie says, blowing her a kiss, and then she’s hurrying off to her class.
Laughing, Flynn turns around and enters the building. Thankfully, her classroom is on the ground floor and nearby, so it’s a quick walk there and then she finds the chair she’s claimed for the class, and plonked herself in it. Opening her bag, she pulls out her laptop and then places it on the table, turning it on.
While it turns on, Flynn looks around the classroom, seeing who’s already here. Considering how late it’s getting in the semester, she wouldn’t be surprised if some people didn’t make it. Then again, this isn’t an 8am class so maybe most people will make it. There’s a few students already there—the boy who sits in the front row and usually has insightful comments; the student squished in the back who often speaks when no one else will; Bo who Flynn worked with a few weeks back; and-
Is that Carrie?
Flynn’s brain seems to go offline. Because- Because for once Carrie isn’t wearing long pants and dress shoes and a button-down top. She’s- She’s wearing a hoody?
That’s not allowed! Flynn pulls out her phone and texts Julie a message containing only exclamation marks. Then, realising that Julie might need some context, she adds, ‘CARRIE IS WEARING A HOODY??????????’ which hopefully gets her point across.
However, just as her phone buzzes with an incoming message, the teacher starts the classroom. Flynn gives herself a second to glance at the notification, sees the two question marks and exclamation marks that Julie has responded with, and then places her phone on silent and in her pocket.
“Good morning everyone,” the teacher says, standing at the front of the room and trying to get the projector up and working. “Won’t be too much longer. I hope the weekend treated you all well.” She surveys them then, gaze stopping on Carrie, she says, “Dressed down today, Carrie?”
Flynn waits, eager for the answer, because what will Carrie say? There’s only one possible answer and-
“I didn’t have work before for once,” Carrie says. “Which is a nice change.”
“Oh? Where do you work?”
The conversation continues but Flynn has checked out. Flynn checked out after Carrie’s first sentence because-
Getting up her phone, Flynn texts Julie, ‘Do you ever realise how much of a bitch you’re being? CARRIE HAS WORK!! SHE’S JUST BEEN WORKING!! Oh man I feel like such a bitch.’ Because of course no uni student would dress up like Carrie out of their own willpower. It’s only a job that could get any of them doing it and now Flynn feels absolutely awful because she’s been so rude to Carrie and for no reason now.
Wait. Actually, Flynn hates Carrie because the fact that Carrie is definitely a prickly person and has a habit of smiling condescendingly. Like she is doing right now.
Carrie is so fucking lucky Flynn doesn’t know any offensive magic or Carrie would be dead.
Carrie blows her an air kiss, waving and sending sparks showering down from her hand, disappearing before they hit the table.
Well, it’s clear. Flynn is going to murder Carrie and Julie is going to have to help her get rid of the body.
For the most part, Flynn forgets all about it. Why should she think about Carrie? Carrie likely doesn’t spare a thought her way outside of class and antagonising her.
Julie might say otherwise, but Julie is also a liar and should not be trusted. Flynn certainly does not complain about Carrie at all. Not outside of class. For longer than twenty minutes at least. Okay, maybe half an hour. But that’s it!
Regardless, Flynn isn’t expecting Carrie to show up at her work clad in a hoody with the bi colours. Which—it might not mean anything Flynn knows, but Carrie’s the kind of person to know what she’s doing so Flynn imagines she knows.
The café, Enchanted, is largely empty and there’s no line, so there’s no way that Flynn can hide her face or anything. Besides, she’s an employee here, she has to actually serve customers—even if they’re absolute assholes and pretentious pricks. Before Carrie even gets to the register, however, Flynn knows the drink that Carrie should be having.
For a heartbeat, Flynn considers not making the drink. But then again, she’d be hired because of her kitchen magic—how she knows what drink a person needs more often than not, how she can add emotions and memories to food and drink. It probably helps that she knows her way around expresso machines too.
Letting her body control her actions, Flynn gets to work. In a large sized cup, a hot chocolate forms, whipped cream on top, a sprinkle of cocoa power, and then three marshmallows—pink.
Magic sparking at her fingertips, Flynn trails her fingers over the side of the cup, and breathes hope and laughter and good times into it. It’s one of the most common things she adds to drinks—that, and adrenaline and wakefulness, at least, because uni students are far too tired and Flynn helps as best she can.
The cup is placed on the counter, gentle lest Flynn spills it. “That’ll be four dollars,” she says, looking up to meet Carrie’s gaze.
Carrie looks… surprised, almost, and normally Flynn would tease her but there’s something about the warmth of her magic clinging to her fingertips and the way Carrie has dark circles under her eyes that stops her.
“I didn’t order anything,” Carrie says, voice rough.
Flynn shrugs. “Four dollars,” she repeats. Then, as Carrie gets out her wallet and starts placing coins down on the counter, she adds, “Sometimes we know what people need before they do.”
“Your power?” Carri asks, seeming somewhat curious for the first time so far.
Smiling, she nods. “Part of it at least. Why don’t you go take your drink and sit down? You look like you could do with a bit of a rest.”
Carrie laughs. It sounds hard and ugly and it hurts, digging into Flynn’s chest like knives. Though Carrie is petty and arrogant and far too willing to insult Flynn, and though her laughter sometimes reminds Flynn of nails screeching down a chalkboard, this isn’t right. This is- This isn’t Carrie teasing or mean, this is Carrie on a bad day. It almost feels wrong for Flynn to see her like this because they’re not close.
“Yeah,” Carrie says at last, the word crackling along the edges. Flynn has the awful desire to wrap Carrie up in a blanket and push her onto the couch for a nap which- Carrie is not Julie and Flynn really needs to stop her habits of forcing people she doesn’t know to remember their self-care. “You could say that.”
However, while Flynn’s self-control is good, it’s not that good, and the words fall out of her mouth without any conscious thought, “Do you have anyone to call right now? You look like you could do with a friend.”
If Carrie had been feeling better, Flynn can only imagine the piercing glare and the sharp insult she’d get for saying that, but as it is, Carrie only pulls at her sleeves before picking up her drink. “Thanks,” she says, seeming to try for biting but missing by a pretty far margin.
Glancing at the clock, Flynn checks how much time she has left on her shift. Only a few minutes, and the next co-worker is just out back… She says nothing as Carrie takes a seat in the corner of the café, squishing herself on the couch wall, legs pulled up to her chest. She doesn’t look to be waiting for anyone and if anything, her words indicated she wasn’t expecting anyone either.
So, knowing better and definitely thinking she knows better, Flynn pokes her head into the small staff room that doesn’t pretend to be any bigger than a cupboard for staff lockers. “Hey, can you cover the last few minutes of my shift? I’ve got a friend in a bit of a crisis.” Because she has some control herself, Flynn doesn’t grimace at calling Carrie a friend—but it’s a close one.
“I’ve got you covered,” Li says, standing up and sliding their phone into their pocket. “Go help your friend.”
Flynn flashes Li a smile, hands over the apron, and grabs her bag, slinging it over one shoulder. Then, following Li out into the café itself, she leaves the registers and the expresso machines and heads to where Carrie seems to be staring at the wooden table like she can see something in the grain.
Making sure the chair screeches slightly as Flynn pulls it out, Flynn only grins when Carrie looks up, plonking herself in the seat. For a second, it looks like Carrie might say something, then she only sighs, “Can we not today?” She asks, picking her drink up like she can hide behind it.
And, well, Flynn does listen to people, regardless of what others say. “If you really want me to, I can,” she says seriously. “But you look like you could do with a friend—and I know we’re not exactly what you might call friends, but I’m here to offer some comfort regardless.” Then, when Carrie seems caught out by that and not entirely sure how to respond, Flynn adds, “Sip some of your drink.”
Carrie takes some of the drink, and while Flynn can’t ever feel the magic working, she imagines she can. It’d be like when you drink a hot drink in the cold and the warmth seems to spread from your throat to the rest of your body. It doesn’t necessarily make things better or fix anything, but it can help—briefly. Sometimes that’s all you need.
Placing the cup back down, Carrie meets Flynn’s gaze across the table. “Is this—magic?”
“It is,” Flynn says, and she smiles, because she’s proud of her magic and what she can do with it. It’s taken a while for her to get to the point she’s now at. “Kitchen witch here,” she wriggles her fingers.
Silence falls between them, somewhat uncomfortable, but Carrie doesn’t seem to notice. However, Flynn can feel it weigh on her. She doesn’t really know Carrie or what Carrie might prefer on days like this—which makes her next step… uncertain, to say the least.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Flynn asks at last, because—well, like Carlos’ favourite movie says—sometimes you have to take a leap of faith.
Although her shoulders are hidden by the massive hoody she’s wearing, Carrie’s shrug is still clear. “There’s not really any reason,” she says, stressing the last word.
“Firstly, that’s not what I asked,” Flynn says, “but also you don’t have to have a reason to have a bad day. Some days can just be bad, you don’t have to explain it. It can just be.”
“Well it shouldn’t,” Carrie says, sharp, and that almost feels like how Carrie should be—except for the fact it’s sharp for all the wrong reasons and it’s not right. It’s sharp and jagged, where Carrie is normally spear-sharp; perfectly pointed and aimed.
Pausing, Flynn considers her words. She feels like she’s walking through a minefield without a guide. “Then what constitutes as a reason to have a bad day? Does it have to be something big or can it be something small? Does it have to be something recent or does it have to be something old?”
With narrowed eyes, Carrie slowly says, “You’re going to turn this on me, won’t I?”
“The fact you already know that speaks to me,” Flynn says. “If I have a bad day, I don’t usually have a reason for it. It’s just a bad day. Or maybe there is a reason and I’m not aware of it—it doesn’t matter regardless. It’s a bad day and I should be kinder to myself because of it, not harsher. And- And I know it doesn’t seem that easy, and it certainly never feels that way, but I promise you that it is deserved.” Then, pausing, Flynn says, “What do you have planned for the rest of the day?”
After shrugging once again, Carrie sips from her drink, then places down the empty cup. “Uni work, probably,” she says like she’s not looking like- well, what she’s looking like.
Now, Flynn might not be friends with Carrie but she still knows a fair bit about the other, courtesy of being in the same class. Carrie’s usually pretty on top of her coursework, asking questions about assignments ahead of time. Assuming that, Carrie likely doesn’t need to work on uni today. Which means…
“How do you feel about a movie day?” Flynn says. And she has no idea what Carrie enjoys watching, but… Flynn knows her way around a computer and she can probably find any movie that Carrie might want to be watched.
“A what day?” Carrie says, looking confused, and part of Flynn notices how cute that expression is and- No. Nope! Flynn’s not going to think about that at all. In fact, she’s going to do her best to forget ever thinking that.
“Movie day,” she chirps. “By which I mean, we wear the most comfortable clothing we own, burrow beneath blankets on the couch, have buckets of ice-cream, and watch our favourite movies. C’mon, it’ll be fun.”
Carrie gets up, slow, but she does it. “I don’t- Why are you doing this? We’re not- We’re not friends.”
“No,” Flynn agrees, “but we could be. And you’re having a pretty shitty day from the looks of it, and you could do with a friend.”
For a long second, Carrie looks at her, then says, “I… I could do with a movie day,” she says and she might not use the word ‘friend’ but some things are inevitable.