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Chapter Text

Sasha Waybright is having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad Monday. Her alarm doesn't go off, her bus leaves her behind, and to top it all off, her go-to coffee shop has shut down seemingly overnight. "Oh, come on," she growls under her breath as she scans the sign on the boarded-up front door of Toadstool's Morning Brew. "If you're going to embezzle money, at least be smart enough to not get caught!" Sasha's fingers are frantic as she Googles alternatives, because she needs her magic bean juice if she's going to be able to do basket tosses at practice this afternoon. Let's see, Felicia's Tea Shoppe--no, that leaf water does nothing for me--Flour & Daughters Bakery--pass, it doesn't even look like they sell coffee there--guess it's your lucky day, Plantars' Place, she thinks as she settles on a quaint little cafe a few blocks away.

The coffeehouse is charming, with wall lamps shaped like mushrooms and mugs fashioned to look like frogs. It's also packed--the line is almost out the front door, and there's not an empty table in the place. Sasha impatiently shifts from foot to foot as she slowly inches closer to the counter, passing by sickeningly cute couples and parents with crying children and a group of kids her age playing D&D on her way to the register. Her annoyance, however, evaporates like cappuccino foam when she lays eyes on the girl behind the counter. The cashier has warm brown eyes, thick auburn hair, and the most adorable giggle Sasha has ever heard. Her brain pulls up a list of her best come-ons as she finally makes it to the front of the line: This coffee is hot, but you're hotter. I can already feel something brewing between us, can't you? Hold the sugar, you look sweet enough for me.

"Welcome to Plantars' Place! My name's Anne. Can I interest you in a number three?" the barista asks with an inviting smile, gesturing towards where the names of today's specials are scrawled on a whiteboard.

"I'm more interested in getting your number, cutie," Sasha smirks as she leans forward on the counter, throwing in a playful wink for good measure. Her grin only grows wider when Anne's face starts to burn with a deep red blush--there's that adorable giggle again. Sasha's about to reel in her catch when she's interrupted by the little girl manning the espresso machine:

"This is a coffee shop, blondie, not a club. Order something or beat it."

"Polly, what did Pop Pop say about being nice to the customers?"

"She's not a customer, she's a Casanova, and she's holding up the line!"

"There is literally no one behind me, you little twerp," Sasha narrows her eyes, using the Head Bitch in Charge voice that had gotten her the position of head cheerleader. She's not lying--the morning rush is over, and most of the D&D players are packing it in, freeing up a few seats. "How do you even know what a club is, anyway? You're like five years old."

"I AM TEN AND THREE QUARTERS, THANK YOU VERY--"

"Okay, you are officially on drive-thru duty, young lady. Go tell Sprig I need him to man the register."

"Sprig? As in, rhymes with twig?"

"It's a nickname," sighs the kid at the drive-thru window as he moves to switch places with Polly. "You have one allergic reaction to parsley and nobody ever lets you forget it."        

"This isn't over, blondie," Polly hisses, making the "I'm watching you" sign with her fingers as she reluctantly walks away. Sasha just does it right back to her before sticking out her tongue for good measure. 

"Sorry about that," Anne apologizes as she sheepishly rubs the back of her neck. "My siblings can be a little...much. So, what can I get you, Miss...?"

"Waybright, Sasha Waybright. Why don't you surprise me, cutie?"

"A buggachino it is, then. With extra whipped cream and caramel drizzle, on the house." Anne's the one who winks then, and oh yes, Sasha is definitely going to be coming back here. Once she has her drink in hand (the cup is sadly devoid of digits, but there is a small heart next to her name), Sasha approaches the one remaining D&D player, because her table is the only one with any empty chairs. 

Ooo, she's a cutie too, I wish I could pull off a bob like that, Sasha thinks as she asks the girl--"Dungeon Master Marcy Wu, at your service!"--if she can grab a seat. The two of them sit in companionable silence for a while, with Marcy tap, tap, tapping her pencil against the tabletop and Sasha sipping on her iced cappuccino, until the latter catches the former staring at her. "Do I have whipped cream on my face, or something?" 

"Nope! I'm just trying to figure out what class you'd be. Judging by your willingness to tangle with our resident demon child, I'd be willing to bet my limited-edition dice that you're a fighter. You'd look really cool with a sword. Or two." 

"Oh?" Sasha raises an eyebrow, leaning her elbow on the table and taking a looooong sip of her drink. "Just how cool would I look?" she asks as she bats her eyelashes, because if there's one thing she likes better than flirting with a pretty girl, it's having her ego stroked by one. 

"Okay, so I'm thinking your weapons would be pink and green, maybe with a heron carved into each handle," Marcy begins, wasting no time in flipping to a new page in her notebook and starting a sketch of the girl sitting across from her. "Oh, and you'd have a cape. I love capes, do you like capes? Anyway, let's talk stats. Obviously, you'd have a ton of strength, but your charisma would probably be off the charts, too..."

* * *

By the time Sasha leaves Plantars' Place, the drawing is finished, and she's got to hand it to Marcy, because the sketch makes her look like a badass. Her cape is flowing in the wind, her armor is all shiny, and her muscles look like you could bounce a quarter off them. Sasha didn't really get D&D, and she was pretty sure she'd never play it herself, but she could listen to Marcy talk about it for hours (in fact, she had--she'd been so engrossed in the backstory Marcy had created for her character that she'd missed the first twenty minutes of practice and had to run laps as punishment). It was worth it, though, because at the bottom of the drawing is Marcy's phone number. 

I probably would've gotten Anne's too if it hadn't been for that meddling brat, Sasha thinks as she walks home, taking the longest and most scenic route she possibly can. Guess I'll just have to try again tomorrow, she grins, and the smile stays on her face until she reaches the front of her house, where it quickly melts into an apprehensive frown. Okay, the living room light's on, which means that bastard is probably on his seventh beer in an hour and drunk off his ass. The office light is also on, which means that bitch is probably passed out at her desk with an empty bottle of Percocet. Sasha has gotten exceptionally good at spotting little details over the years. She's had to--knowing where her parents are at any given moment means the difference between getting hurt a lot and getting hurt a little. Looks like we're taking the back way, Sash, she sighs as she circles around to the backyard and starts climbing the tree in front of her bedroom window with practiced ease, like she's done this a hundred times before (if Sasha's being honest with herself, she's probably done it more). 

Her parents hadn't always been this way. Sasha does have good memories of them. Her father, for instance, tossing her as high as he could on lazy Sunday afternoons in the park ("Higher, daddy, higher!" she'd laugh, and that weightless, free feeling as she fell back down into his arms was one of the reasons she went out for cheerleading in the first place). And her mother, for example, teaching her how to braid her own hair and do her own makeup during their weekly girls' nights (that second skill is coming in handy more often than not lately). As she slides through her bedroom window as quietly as she can, Sasha mentally curses out that stupid driver who fell asleep at the wheel all those years ago, because maybe if her parents hadn't gotten hurt in that car accident, things would still be as good as they were back then. Maybe her dad wouldn't have lost his construction job and started drowning his sorrows in booze. Maybe her mom wouldn't have gotten addicted to those painkillers she'd been prescribed. Maybe Sasha wouldn't have to sneak into and around her own house like she is now (it's her own fault this time, she should've grabbed more granola bars when she was last in the kitchen, she'd known her stash of food was running low). Maybe--

CREEEEEEAK! 

Fuck, Sasha panics, freezing in place as her father starts to stir in his easy chair--she'd been so wrapped up in her own pity party that she'd completely forgotten to skip that squeaky bottom step. Please don't wake up, please don't wake up, please don't wake up! By some miracle, he doesn't, turning over in his seat with a drowsy snort instead. Sasha doesn't think she's ever moved as quickly or quietly as she does in that moment. She doesn't spend a second more than she has to on swiping just the right amount of cereal bars (enough that she won't have to do this again for a week, but not so many that her parents will notice some are missing). Sasha bites back a frustrated groan as she slips out of the kitchen, because she is so, so tired of having to play this game...but then she remembers that she's lucky her mom and dad care enough to keep a roof over their heads and food in the house at all. Things could be a lot worse, she reminds herself, and it's that thought that leads her to drape a blanket over each of her sleeping parents once she's sure they're out for the night. In spite of everything, she still loves them. In spite of everything, a small, childish part of her holds onto the hope that one day, things will be as good as they were before--maybe even better. 

* * *

Once she's safely locked in the bathroom, the first thing Sasha does is wash the makeup off her face. The bruise on her cheek is pale green now instead of dark purple (this is her own fault, too--if she hadn't been so careless during her last graffiti spree, she wouldn't have gotten caught, and her tipsy father wouldn't have gotten called down to the police station to pick her up). At this rate, it should be gone by the time Vince's pool party rolls around--

BZZT!

marcy: hey new friend, check out this cool rock i found   

Sasha chuckles at that, because who texts someone about a rock they found? She should find it weird, but coming from Marcy (sweet, dorky Marcy), it's endearing. The girl is just so genuine--what you see is what you get with her, and it's such a refreshing change of pace from the passive-aggressive, gossipy bitches she's surrounded by day in and day out. As Sasha responds with a message of her own, she admires the sketch Marcy gave her and thinks back to their hours-long (and, if she's being honest, kind of one-sided) conversation in the coffee shop:

"You'd totally be some sort of leader. I bet if you got teleported to another world, you'd be running an army there in no time. You seem like the kind of person who's got everything handled, y'know?"

Marcy had managed to get a pretty good read on her--mostly. Sasha runs the cheer squad with an iron fist, puts in just enough effort to maintain her C average, and holds onto her place at the top of her school's social ladder without breaking a sweat. Yep, outside of this house, she's in the driver's seat at all times, but inside of it, Sasha is perpetually pinned under the wheels of the car (which, come to think of it, is probably why she's such a bossy boots everywhere else). Marcy doesn't know that, though (and neither does Anne)--as far as those two are concerned, Sasha's cool, and confident, and in control, and if she has her way, they'll never find out about the pathetic person she becomes whenever she sets foot into this hellhole.

marcy: are you doing anything this weekend? you should stop by the cafe, they have a two-for-one frappuccino special on saturdays.

When Sasha reads Marcy's latest message, she smiles--really smiles--for the first time since she got home, because she isn't doing anything this weekend--the squad only practices during the week over the summer, and she sure as hell isn't going to spend her time off sitting around this dump waiting for her father to fly off the handle over nothing.

sasha: nope! it's a date, cutie <3

Chapter Text

Tuesday

"Morning, Sasha! I didn't think you'd be back so soon."

"What can I say? I've been thinking about you a latte since yesterday." 

"Hurry up and order, blondie, you're getting sap all over my nice clean counter."

"You mean Sprig's nice clean counter."

"Hey, I supervised, give me some credit!"

"The only thing I'm giving you is this bucket. Clean up that spill by table three, Polly."

"But Pop Pop never makes me mop!"

"Yeah, well, Pop Pop isn't in charge today. Now go, or you can forget about me taking you and Sprig to see Love Choice 2 later."

"Ugh, fine. Don't think I won't still be watching you, blondie."

"Whatever you say, twerp. Now, where were we, cutie?"

Wednesday

"This macchiato's really good, Anne!"

"Thanks, Sash! Pop Pop's finally letting me make some changes to the menu. I think the competition from the tea shop next door is starting to make him nervous."

"Speaking of the tea shop, you think you could teach me some of your pick-up lines, Sasha? I've been trying to flirt with the waitress over there for weeks now, and I keep chickening out."

"You can't chat up our rivals, Sprig!"

"They don't have to be our rivals, Polly! Felicia's been trying to talk Pop Pop into a merger for months! He's too stubborn to even consider it, though, Plantar pride and all that. So, what do you say, Sash? Will you teach me your ways?"

"Anything for my favorite barista's little brother. Now, you want to open with something bold, but not too strong. Maybe, 'I couldn't help but notice how pret-tea you look today.'"

Thursday

sasha: doesn't this rock kind of look like anne? 

marcy: OMG it totally does!

marcy: where'd you find it?

sasha: in the parking lot, i was helping sprig take out the trash before i had to leave for practice. 

marcy: uh-oh, i think my title of favorite customer might be in jeopardy. 

sasha: not if polly gets a vote. 

sasha: oh, i forgot to tell you, anne was teaching her how to make unicorn frapps the other day, and that sour blue powder turned her tongue blue for HOURS, it was the funniest thing XD

marcy: i know you two have this whole blood feud thing going on, but PLEASE tell me you were nice and helped her get it off before her dance recital. 

sasha: of course i did. i might be a heartSTOMPER, but i'm not heartLESS. 

sasha: i DID get a really funny picture before we washed it out, though, look. 

marcy: aww!!!

marcy: i know she's trying to look mad, but she just looks adorable. 

marcy: i have to go start dinner for my moms, but we're still on for saturday, right?

sasha: is a nat 20 the best thing a D&D player can roll? of course we're still on!

marcy: you WERE listening the other day! most people tune me out by the time i get to that point. 

sasha: well, that's THEIR loss. see you soon, cutie <3

Friday

"You're not Anne."

"Brilliant observation, blondie. Anne's got tennis practice today, so you're stuck with me."

"Fantastic. Wait, are you even allowed to work the register?"

"Tell you what, you don't report us to the labor board, and I won't tell anyone I saw you spray painting the alley across the street. Deal?"

"You drive a hard bargain, Plantar."

"As if you wouldn't do the same thing if you were me, Waybright. So, what'll it be today?"

"One tall flat white, hold the spit."

"Hey, I might be your mortal enemy, but even I wouldn't hock a loogie in your food. I like taking your money too much."

"I'll make your drink, Sasha. I can tell you how it went with Ivy the other day!"

"Sprig, I want to hear all about it."

Saturday     

Sasha spots Marcy almost immediately when she pulls into the parking lot. The first thing she notices is that her new friend isn't alone--there's a small group of people around her, but Sasha doesn't recognize any of them from Monday's D&D game. The second thing she notices is that Marcy looks like she'd rather be anywhere else--she's not making eye contact with any of these guys, her fingers are nervously drumming against her sides, and the adorable smile Sasha had become so smitten with was nowhere to be seen. Don't worry, cutie, she thinks as her hand-me-down convertible screeches to a halt, I'll get these bozos off your back. 

"There you are, Mar-Mar!" The nickname rolls off her tongue smoothly and easily as she protectively steps in between Marcy and the boys. "Sorry I'm late. Are these guys bothering you?"

"Aw, look at this, guys! Weird-Ass Wu over here finally made a friend!" Marcy physically recoils at the insult, and Sasha's eyes narrow into slits, because sure, D&D isn't the coolest thing in the world, and yeah, her new friend has one of those fantasy books for fourth graders sticking out of her bag, but so what? Marcy's kind and passionate and smart (there's an A+ paper peeking out of that novel like a bookmark), and Sasha "Top-of-the-Social-Ladder" Waybright would rather spend time with her than jerks like these any day. "Are you paying her to hang out with you, or does she not know you're a retar--"

"Finish that sentence and I introduce my fist to your nose," Sasha growls as she curls her fingers into her palm. She's dealt with worse bullies before, and she's thrown punches at them for far less than something like this. 

"Is that a threat, blondie?"

"No, it's a promise, asshole."

"Hey! Get out of here, you hooligans! You're scaring paying customers away!" At first, Sasha thinks the old man waving his cane around is lumping her in with these jerks (because she does have a rap sheet, albeit a short one that only consists of vandalism), but he ends up walking right past her, sending the boys packing with a few more swings of his walking stick. "Are you girls okay?"

"Yeah. Thanks, Pop Pop," Marcy says as she throws him a strained but grateful smile. "Thank you too, Sasha." Her heart breaks a little when she sees how Marcy's looking at her, as if Sasha's the first person who's ever stood up for her like that. "Oh, Sasha, this is Pop Pop! He's the owner of this place."

"And the proud grandfather of Anne, Sprig, and Polly. Nice to meet you, Sasha! Any friend of Marcy's is a friend of ours!" he grins as he brings her in for a warm, welcoming hug. "Here, have a Werther's," he continues, reaching into his pocket and handing her one of those caramel candies that old people always seem to have an endless supply of.       

"She's not my friend!" Polly calls out from where she's writing today's specials on a chalkboard by the front door. 

"Oh, don't mind Polly. She doesn't mean it. This time of year is hard on all the kids." Sasha's eyebrows come together in a confused frown, because she has no idea what he could possibly mean by that, but Pop Pop quickly moves on from the comment like he doesn't even remember making it. "Now, what do you say we get you girls some free frappuchinos?"

"You had me at 'free,'" Sasha grins, because she had been planning on paying for the one drink that wasn't complimentary, but any time she didn't have to dip into her I'm-out-of-this-house-the-second-I-turn-eighteen fund is a big win. 

"Morning, Marbles!" Sasha takes note of the pet name and how familiarly it falls from Anne's lips--is Marcy just a customer to her, or something more? "Morning, Sasha! I'm glad Polly hasn't scared you away." 

"Yet," Polly grinds out through gritted teeth as she joins Anne behind the counter. "New rule, blondie: no harassing the baristas with cheesy pick-up lines."

"Polly," Anne mutters out of the side of her mouth, "maybe this barista doesn't mind Sasha's cheesy pick-up lines."

"That's okay, I'll settle for cheesy nicknames instead," Sasha counters, a Cheshire grin spreading across her face as she matches Polly's menacing glare. The loophole comes to her easily, because what has her entire life been if not a constant loop of okay, Sash, how are you going to get yourself out of this one? "We'll take two strawberry funnel cake frapps and two of those, Anna Banana," she continues, pointing at the little fruit display to the left of the espresso machine. Success! she celebrates with a mental fist pump when she hears Anne's cute giggle again. The trio makes small talk as Sprig fixes the drinks and Polly reluctantly bags up the bananas before shoving the sack into Sasha's hands with a dark glower.

"You may have won the battle, blondie, but you won't win the war," Polly promises under her breath, her scowl relaxing into a smile as she turns to help the next customer.

"Y'know, I always figured I'd have an arch-nemesis," Sasha says as she and Marcy claim a table in the back. "I just thought it'd be a rival cheer captain like in Bring It On, not a literal kindergartener."

"Aw, don't be too hard on Polly, she's just really protective of her big sister. It took her a while to warm up to me, too. She'll come around eventually."

"How did you and Anne meet, anyway? Did you try flirting with her over the register, too?"

"Oh gosh, no," Marcy answers, her face turning as red as the bottle of cherry syrup behind the counter. "I don't know the first thing about romance," she shyly admits, but the way she's looking between Anne and Sasha suggests that she'd be willing to learn. "We met after I moved here from San Bernardino last year. She was my tour guide when I started at my new school."

"Is that where you know those jerks from?" Sasha asks, her curiosity overpowering what little tact she has. "Your old school?"

"Yeah," Marcy confirms with a forlorn nod before spooning some whipped cream into her mouth. "I didn't think I was ever going to have to see them again, San Bernardino's like an hour away from here--without the awful California traffic."

"Ugh, I'd move to get away from those tools, too," Sasha says sympathetically in between sips of her frapp (huh, it really does taste like a funnel cake). 

"That's not why I moved," Marcy sighs, pulling out her notebook and a pencil to give her fidgety fingers something to do. "Things didn't really work out with my first two families." Sasha's eyebrows shoot up at that, because first two families? What is that supposed to mean? Before Sasha can pry any further, Marcy seems to realize that she's said too much to someone who's still a relative stranger, because the next thing she does is rapidly flip through her journal until she reaches a specific page. "Oh, I remember what I wanted to show you," she changes the subject, her face lighting up as she slides the notebook across the table. "Ta-da! I present to you Marcy's Eat the Menu Challenge! I'm trying to get through the whole thing before the end of the summer, but I've only had like a quarter of the stuff here so far. I think it might be easier if I had a friend doing it with me. You up for it, Waybright?"

"Oh honey, 'challenge' is my middle name," Sasha answers with a confident smirk. She knows her get-out-of-this-shithole-ASAP stash is going to take a hit from this, but Marcy looks so happy that she's not going to have to finish this alone, and Sasha could use a reason to come here every day that isn't I have a raging crush on the prettiest girls in the world. The two of them spend the next few hours huddled over the journal, animatedly strategizing about the fastest way to mow through the surprisingly long menu (Plantars' Place has fourteen different kinds of lattes alone, fourteen). By the time Marcy has to go home, they have a solid plan of attack--split a drink and a baked good every day (twice a day if Sasha doesn't have practice), and then they'll tackle the breakfast sandwiches and salads. The sun has long since gone down by that point, and Sasha's the only one left in the cafe--besides Anne, who's flipping the open sign to closed. "No one stayed to help you lock up?"

"Nah, Pop Pop had to take the kids home, it's almost their bedtime...come to think of it, it's almost his, too," Anne adds, and the two of them share a laugh before Anne starts reaching for a broom.

"Here, let me help," Sasha offers, taking the broom before Anne can grab it.

"Oh, I couldn't ask you to do that. You're probably dying to get home after spending the whole day here."

No, actually, I'll probably die if I do go home. "Not exactly. And you're not asking, I'm offering. C'mon, it'll go faster with two of us." Anne relents then (because she can't argue with that logic), moving to clean the espresso machine while Sasha starts to sweep. As she cleans the floor, Sasha lets her eyes roam over the framed photographs decorating the walls--they all feature some combination of Anne, Pop Pop, Sprig, Polly, and two other people. They look related to the four Plantars Sasha knows, but she's never seen them around the store before. "So, has this always been a family business?"

"Yep! My parents opened this place right out of college, and we've been here ever since! Pop Pop took over running it after--" Anne abruptly cuts herself off, her face falling as she looks at a picture of those two other Plantars. "...he's been running it for a while now," she eventually finishes, her voice coming out small and faint.

Shit, you made her sad! Sasha mentally kicks herself. Fix it, fix it, fix it! "Well, you guys are doing a great job. I don't know what you're putting in those macchiatos, but I am addicted."

"Are you sure it's the drinks you keep coming back for and not the service?" Anne's smile has returned, and she couples it with a coy wink that makes a light dusting of pink appear on Sasha's cheeks.

"Anne, are you finally flirting back? Has one of my incredible pick-up lines managed to hook you at long last? Which one was it? Ooo, I'll bet it was, 'I've never bean more smitten with someone.'"

"Sasha."

"No? Then it was probably, 'Is your name Earl Grey? Because you're a hot-tea!'"

"Stoooooop," Anne whines as her entire face flushes a deep red. "I'm never going to get anything done if you keep flustering me every two seconds!"

"Okay, okay, no more teasing," Sasha backs down, raising her hands in surrender. "How about a game of twenty questions instead? What's your favorite color?"

Over the next half hour or so, Sasha learns a lot about Anne--her favorite color is blue, she can make Thai green curry paste from scratch, and her flower of choice is the daisy (which is good, because Sasha cannot afford long stem roses on top of all the stuff she's going to be buying from this place before summer's over). Sasha even manages to steal a quick dance--she pulls Anne close when a sappy love song comes up on the cafe's playlist, giving her a twirl before dipping her as low as they can go. Before they part ways in the parking lot, Anne finally, finally scribbles her phone number on Sasha's hand in blue ink (IN YOUR FACE, POLLY PLANTAR). As Anne's car pulls out of its space and into the street, Sasha snaps a picture of a daisy sprouting from a crack in the asphalt before picking the flower and sticking it in her pocket--it would look super pretty in Anne's hair. She waits until she's sure Anne must be safe at home before texting her the picture (because one car accident has already ruined her life, thank you very much):

sasha: a pretty flower for a pretty girl.

anne: aww <3 this is why you're one of my favorite customers :)

sasha: ONE OF your favorites? who's the other one?!

anne: marcy, duh.

sasha: you know what, fair.

anne: i should hope so, i've seen the way you look at her, too ;)    

sasha: nope. NOPE. you are NOT allowed to tease me back, that's against the rules. good night, anna banana.  

anne: sweet dreams, sash <3

Chapter Text

Day One

Today's items are an iced americano and a unicorn cake pop. There are two straws in the one drink, as if Sasha and Marcy are sharing a milkshake in a diner like they do in those old-timey movies. They add a third straw when Anne joins them during her break--there are foam stains all over her apron, because she's trying to teach Sprig how to make latte art, and he is not a natural at it. 

"Can you really make any design, Anne? There are so many Vagabondia Chronicles characters who would look cool in my coffee!"

"I can try! What about you, Sasha? Any requests?"

"How about two hearts? Like the ones I'm trying to steal."

"Ugh, you're going to make me throw up, blondie."

"Just don't barf all over our table, twerp."

Regrettably, Sasha has to take her third of the cake pop to go, because her coach is threatening to punish any latecomers with an insane amount of burpees. She's normally the sharpest member of the squad (making captain hadn't been a popularity contest, after all), but today, she can barely concentrate, because cheer practice has become nothing more than a stepping stone to the moment when she can hop into her car and head back to Plantars' Place to help Anne and Pop Pop lock up. Tonight, they're passing the time by good-naturedly poking fun at each other's musical tastes.

"We are not putting any of those newfangled rock songs on the playlist," Pop Pop rolls his eyes as he restocks the syrups. "You can barely hear yourself think over that sorry excuse for music! Now, old school jazz, that's where it's at."

"Aw, but you can't headbang to jazz, Pop Pop!" Sasha says as she mimes using her broom as a guitar. "That's half the fun!"

"You're both wrong," Anne calls out from where she's refilling the napkin holders. "We should be playing way more K-pop."

"K what now? Back in my day, the only pop we had was soda pop!"

"Yeah, well, there were a lot of things they didn't have in prehistoric times, Pop Pop," Anne gently teases. She ducks just in time to avoid the wadded-up paper towel her grandfather throws across the room in retaliation for the jab at his age. As Sasha watches them playfully bicker back and forth, she experiences something she hasn't felt since she was a little kid--a fuzzy, familial tingle, one that warms her from the top of her head to the tips of her toes. It brings a contented smile to her face, but the grin only stretches so far, because how messed up is it that she feels more at home in this coffee shop than she does in her own house? "I'll be right back, I'm going to take the trash out really quick." For the first few minutes after Anne leaves, the two of them work in silence, but then Pop Pop pipes up:

"You know, if you keep sticking around to help us close like this, I'm going to have to put you on our payroll."

"I do this because I want to, Pop Pop, not because I'm trying to get something out of it."

"Are you sure it's not because you're trying to avoid something?" Sasha doesn't take the opening he gives her, because despite everything they put her through, her parents are still her parents, and she doesn't want them to get in trouble (they can change, I know they can, it's just taking a really, really long time). In fact, Sasha doesn't respond to him at all, because she's pretty sure lying to sweet, old Pop Pop would be breaking some kind of law. When he realizes he isn't going to get an answer out of her, Pop Pop sighs before grabbing a napkin and scribbling something onto it. "This here's the number for that blasted Jitterbug phone the kids forced me to get last year. If you need somewhere to go, you just call it, okay? Marcy and her moms come over for dinner a lot, and we can always pull up an extra chair."

"...I'll keep that in mind. Thanks, Pop Pop," she says, giving him a grateful smile and pocketing the napkin just as Anne comes back into the store. While Pop Pop is shutting off the lights, Sasha pulls a daisy out of her pocket and tenderly tucks it behind Anne's ear. "It's almost as pretty as you--almost," she winks, delighting in the soft, pink flush that almost immediately covers Anne's face. Their lips slowly drift towards each other of their own accord, like opposite sides of a magnet, and they're just about to touch--         

"Hey, no hanky panky in my shop, you two!"

"Pop Pop! No one even says 'hanky panky' anymore!" 

Day Seven

"I can't believe Anne made this! It looks exactly like it does in that cutscene after you beat level five!" Sasha takes Marcy's word for it, because she's never played Vagabondia Chronicles (and she probably never will), but even she's impressed by the sword fight drawn in the foam on top of their shared mocha latte--just how had Anne managed to achieve that level of detail? "Do you think she could teach us how to do this after Sprig gets the hang of it?"

"Don't hold your breath, ladies, I still can't even draw a leaf without messing it up."

"Aw, don't be so hard on yourself, bud! You'll catch on before you know it! Even if you don't, you'll still be way better than me. Remember the time I tried pouring my own espresso?"

"I don't think I could forget the Great Affogato Disaster of 2020 if I tried, Marcy."

That night, Marcy's moms are working late, so she stays to help Anne and Sasha lock up. Before she shuts down the espresso machine, Anne gives the two of them a quick explanation of how to make latte art. On her first attempt, Marcy misses the mug completely, so Anne decides to take a more intimate approach, wiping down the counter before positioning herself directly behind Marcy.

"Remember what I said earlier, Marbles: start high and slow, then bring it down low and increase the flow," Anne says as she patiently guides Marcy's hand with her own. This attempt is much more successful--with Anne's help, Marcy manages to draw something resembling a crescent moon. It's a little lopsided and has funky edges, but Marcy doesn't seem to care--or realize how close she and Anne have gotten over the past few minutes. Marcy somehow has more game than Sasha, and she doesn't even know it. Well, if it worked for her, maybe it'll work for me, Sasha thinks with a sly smile before purposely allowing a splash of steamed milk to fall onto the counter. 

"Oops! Looks like I need a little hands-on help too, Anna Banana."

"You spilled? But you're, like, the least clumsy person I know," Marcy points out bluntly as she admires her wonky little moon like it's a painting on display in an art gallery. 

"Yeah, Sash, it's almost like that wasn't an accident," Anne says, skeptically narrowing her eyes and crossing her arms. 

"Anne! I am shocked, hurt, offended--"

"Will you stop pouting if I do the thing?" Anne rolls her eyes when Sasha answers her question with an eager nod, but it's a fond eye roll, one that's accompanied by an equally fond smile. They're both blushing as Anne helps Sasha draw two hearts--one for her favorite barista, and one for her favorite dungeon master.

Day Fourteen

marcy: SASHA. WHY IS YOUR PRACTICE SO HARD TO FIND??? I'VE SEARCHED EVERY INCH OF THIS FOOTBALL FIELD AND THERE'S NO SIGN OF YOU!

sasha: because we practice in the gym??? why are you at my school??????

marcy: to bring you your halves of our dragon drink and our cinnamon raisin bagel, of course! you shouldn't have to miss out just because you have a two-a-day!

sasha: aww, mar-mar, that's really sweet <3 tell you what, i'll get my coach to call a break and we can hang out on the front lawn until i have to go back, deal?

marcy: DEAL! meet you by the bleachers!

Day Seventeen

sasha: ANNE. WHATEVER YOUR MIDDLE NAME IS. PLANTAR. WHERE is my letterman jacket?

anne: in my closet where it belongs :p

sasha: i can't believe you STOLE my letterman jacket. when did you even do it???

anne: when you were making goo-goo eyes at marcy over your cinnamon dolce latte.

anne: i'll trade you one of marcy's chess club hoodies for it.

anne: they smell like vanilla.

sasha: ...fine, you thief, i GUESS i can let it slide just this once. be there in ten!

anne: oh, you are NEVER getting this jacket back. see you soon! <3

* * *

anne: marbles, did you take my letterman jacket???

marcy: yeah! sasha said we're playing some game where we swap clothes.

anne: of course she did.

marcy: do you want it back?

anne: ...nah, it probably looks better on you two.       

Day Twenty-One

sasha: i'm 99.9% sure your little sister burned my blueberry muffin on purpose this morning. WHERE ARE YOU??? is it your day off or something?

anne: ugh, i'm sorry, i'll make sure she's not on oven duty anymore. i had to make a supply run for Pop Pop, his hip's acting up. i'll be back tomorrow, though!

anne: would you mind helping the kids lock up and driving them home? our bean guy's trying to pull one over on me, so i'm probably going to be here for a while.

sasha: want me to come kick his ass?

anne: NO. what i WANT you to do is help sprig and polly close.         

sasha: aw, you're no fun. FINE, i'll take care of the rugrats. see you tomorrow, cutie ;)

Closing that night is relatively painless--Sprig and Sasha share some laughs as she wipes down the tables and he tells her about all the Marcy-related mishaps they've had over the last year. Polly, on the other hand, acts like Sasha isn't even there...until the two of them knock into each other on their way to the broom closet, that is.

"Watch where you're going, blondie!"

"You're the one who bumped into me, twerp. Why do you hate me so much? What'd I ever do to you?"

Polly doesn't answer right away. Her gaze drifts up to the photograph hanging above Sasha's head as she clenches and unclenches her fingers around the dishcloth in her hands. It's a picture of those two other Plantars, the ones Sasha has still never seen in person. The little girl's eyes are sad as she looks at it--too sad for a kid that young. Sasha has a million questions, but before she can ask any of them, Polly heaves a heavy sigh, and for the first time since Sasha has started coming here, the words that leave her mouth aren't an insult or an antagonistic comment:

"I don't hate you, I just know your type--you reel someone in, you have your fun with them, and then you drop them like a hot coffee with no sleeve. You think you're the first person to come in here and flirt with Anne like this? She's been burned before, and she doesn't deserve that. I've had enough bad things happen to my family. I just don't want Anne to get hurt...she's one of the best things I've got."

"What do you know, we do have something in common," Sasha says softly, because it's true: ever since she met Anne and Marcy, she's not just going through the motions and waiting for some far-off day in the future when her life will actually start--she has something to look forward to every day now (or, rather, two someones). "Listen, squirt, I'd rather eat that gnarly washcloth you're holding than hurt Anne, but if I ever do, you have my full permission to deck me with your rolling pin. Sound good?"

"Appealing to my love of violence. Very clever, Waybright. I suppose I can accept your bribe, but you'd better believe I'll clock you with Doris if I need to."

"I'd be disappointed if you didn't, squirt," Sasha chuckles, and her eyes widen when Polly takes off her apron to reveal a very familiar-looking t-shirt, one that she has hanging in her own closet.

"No way, you're a fan of the Toadies?"

"Um, yeah, 'Possum Kingdom' is my go-to Guitar Hero song."

"Dude, I got to see them in concert last year, let me show you the pictures."

Day Twenty-Eight

"Give it up, Anne, you're never going to beat my Super Dance Fusion record," Sasha playfully taunts through a mouthful of chocolate chip cookie.

"...okay, maybe I can't," Anne begrudgingly concedes, because she's been at this for twenty minutes straight and Sasha's name still hasn't budged from the top of the leaderboard, "but there has to be someone who can end your reign of terror. Marbles, why don't you give it a try?"

Marcy does--and she beats Sasha's record. On the first try. By a lot. 

"Hey, this game is actually pretty fun!"

"Looks like someone else is on top now, Sash," Anne smirks, and Sasha doesn't miss the sly innuendo in the seemingly-innocent remark.

"N-not for long," Sasha shakes her head. She hates the stammer in her voice and the flush on her face, because she's supposed to be flustering them, dang it, not the other way around! "Let's do this, Mar-Mar."

"You're on, Sash!"

Marcy beats her again...and again, and again, and again. At some point, though, she starts to not mind, because Marcy's holding her hand as they play, and Anne's looking at both of them like they personally hung the stars in the sky. Sasha doesn't need to win at Super Dance Fusion--she's already won at life, because she has Anne and Marcy.        

Day Thirty-Five

They have their first sleepover at Marcy's house, because Sprig is also having friends over tonight, and there's no way in hell Sasha is letting these two angels within a mile of her parents. Marcy's moms are as nice as she is, if a bit eccentric--Mama Liv (who, more often than not, works the night shift at the local hospital) has the most posh accent Sasha's ever heard and doesn't use contractions, and Mama Yu (an ex-Marine turned family lawyer) introduces herself as the General. They clearly have a lot of love for their daughter, if the family pictures on the walls and the sketches on the fridge (all with Marcy's loopy signature at the bottom) are anything to go by. What surprises Sasha, though, is Marcy's room. She's expecting it to be full of D&D gear and Vagabondia Chronicles merch, but the walls are bare and the surfaces are empty, as if Marcy hasn't touched them since she moved in. Sasha can't imagine that the two women downstairs wouldn't allow Marcy to decorate, so why was this space so devoid of her personality? Sasha doesn't have time to think further on that, though, because Anne's already throwing out suggestions of things for them to do. The three of them check off all the classic slumber party standards--ordering an absurd amount of pizza, watching a scary movie that's going to keep them up all night, and prank calling Sylvia Sundew from down the street. Sasha's in the middle of painting Anne's nails when she thinks of another old favorite they haven't tried yet.

"Who's up for a game of truth or dare?"

"Ooo, me me me!" Anne quickly volunteers, nearly knocking over the bottle of polish in the process.

"As long as it doesn't get too crazy," Marcy hesitantly agrees as she subconsciously inches closer to Anne. "The last time I played this game, it didn't end well."

"Nothing insane, scout's honor," Sasha promises. "If either of you wants out, we can always go back to prank calling the neighbors. Anne, you seemed pretty excited about playing, let's start with you: truth or dare?"

"Truth."

"Lame, but okay. You crushing on anybody?"

"Yep! Marcy, truth or--"

"Wait, you didn't tell us who it is!"

"You didn't ask," Anne points out with a cheeky grin, "and you can't ask until it's your turn again."

"Touché, Anna Banana," Sasha chuckles as she waves for Anne to finish taking her turn. The first few rounds are fairly tame: If you had to pick a favorite sibling, who would you pick? I dare you to prank call Polly and pretend you're Pop Pop. Do you even like pumpkin spice lattes? Slowly but surely, though, the questions and commands start to go from sweet to spicy: Who was your first crush? Who was your first kiss? I dare you to kiss me.

"Wait, what?" Sasha double-takes, because did she hear that right? There's no way she heard that right...right?

"I dare you to kiss me," Anne repeats. "O-only if you want to, though!" she backtracks when she registers the dumbfounded look on Sasha's face. "Y'know, maybe we should just go back to prank calling the--"

It's terribly cliche, but Sasha doesn't care--she gets Anne to stop rambling by gently pressing their lips together, and if she could bottle this feeling up, she wouldn't need her morning coffee ever again. Anne tastes like honey with a hint of nutmeg, and if that doesn't perfectly encapsulate her personality (sugary with a light hint of zest), Sasha doesn't know what does. They've both got dopey, lovestruck smiles on their faces when they break apart, because wow, just...wow. 

"Huh." Apparently, someone else shares that sentiment--Marcy looks as bashful as Sasha feels, with wide eyes and a blush that stretches from her chin to her forehead. She looks like she wants to say something--maybe ask for a kiss of her own--but Sasha can see that Marcy's having trouble letting the words leave her mouth, so she takes the lead. Instead of just going for it, Sasha asks a question first, because Anne and Marcy are different people with different levels of experience (Anne has to have some if that kiss is anything to go by), and the last thing Sasha wants to do is scare one of them off: "Permission to roll for affection, dungeon master?"

Marcy's in the middle of giving her a slow nod in response when she perks up like she's just remembered something. "Oh, did you actually want to roll?" she asks, pulling a green twenty-sided die out of her pocket. "Sorry, I can never tell when people are joking around or not--"

"I'd love to, Mar-Mar," Sasha cuts her off with a reassuring smile, throwing the die onto the floor like she's in a casino and looking to Marcy for guidance when it lands on a number. "What does a three mean?" she asks, but her real question is, "How far do you want this to go?" Marcy shyly taps her fingers to her cheeks, and Anne and Sasha are happy to oblige, each giving her a feather-light peck to test the waters. The corners of Marcy's mouth turn up into a small smile, one that says, "That was great, but let's stop there." 

"So, are we like...a thing now?" Marcy questions hesitantly, her eyes seeking clarification as they bounce back and forth between Sasha and Anne.

"That depends," Sasha answers as she offers one of her hands to Anne and the other to Marcy. "Do you two want us to be a thing?" Sasha's grin threatens to split her face wide open when Marcy and Anne both nod and interlace their fingers with hers, because she has a first date to plan, and she doesn't think she could be more excited if she tried.

Day Forty-Two

Their first date is a group date. Sasha ends up deciding on a picnic under the stars (this way, there won't be so much noise that Marcy will get uncomfortable, and Anne can finally flex those cooking skills she's been humble-bragging about). Anne's been right to toot her own horn, though--Sasha's pretty sure she could eat this pad thai for the rest of her life and never get sick of it. She loses all track of time as Marcy points out the constellations in the sky above them and Anne regales them with tales of the worst customers she's ever had. Sasha doesn't think anything can bring her down from the high she experiences when both her girls give her a goodnight kiss, but then she checks her phone, and her heart sinks into her stomach when she realizes that she's way beyond the curfew that her dad decides to enforce whenever he feels like it (sometimes when he's sober, always when he's drunk, and these days, he's always drunk). She mentally crosses her fingers as she climbs the tree in her backyard (please don't be awake, please don't be awake, please don't be awake), but it doesn't work--Sasha flinches in surprise after she makes it through the window, because he's in her room, lying in wait with bloodshot eyes and a raised hand.

* * * 

You got lucky this time, Sash, she thinks as she presses an ice pack to her cheek behind the safety of the locked bathroom door. Her father had let her off with a warning slap, and she didn't need him to say it to know that next time, she wouldn't be getting off so easily. Fuck, the old one was almost gone, too, she groans when she removes the ice, revealing an angry red bruise blooming in the exact same spot where the previous one had been. At least he's consistent, she grumbles, and even though her dad is done beating on her (for now), she isn't done beating on herself: How could you be so dumb? You know what he's like. You know how to avoid this. You can't get careless just because you're dating two pretty girls--

BZZT!

Speak of the devils, she thinks, and in spite of everything that's happened since she got home, she feels a little better when she sees Anne's name pop up on her phone.

anne: hey, you put your leftovers in my bag by mistake, want me to come drop them off?

No way, Sasha thinks, because she can faintly hear her dad drunkenly banging around on the floor below her, I don't want you anywhere near him, not now, not ever. He probably wouldn't notice if I snuck out at this point, though--he barely made it down the stairs, there's no way he's making it back up by himself, and mom's too drugged up to help him.

sasha: why don't i come to you instead? i was just about to make a late-night ice cream run, anyway.

anne: let's do it! can't wait to see you <3

sasha: you just saw me an hour ago, though.

anne: and i've missed you for every one of those sixty minutes.  

sasha: you're turning me into a sap, anna banana.

anne: you say that as if you weren't one to begin with, sash.

A fond smile makes its way onto Sasha's face as she grabs her makeup and her car keys before slipping out her window and into the night. She also brings her toothbrush and a change of clothes, because Pop Pop had told her to call him if she needed a place to go, and tonight, she needs a safe place to sleep.                                                                                                                                                                                                                     

Chapter Text

"So, what do you have planned for Anne's birthday?"

"When's Anne's birthday?"

"Saturday."

"This Saturday?!"

"Uh, yeah. The three of you have been dating for weeks. Don't you talk when you're not sucking each other's faces?"

"Yeah, but she never mentioned that her birthday's in two days!"

"You'd better start coming up with some ideas, then."

"Or you could just give me some ideas."

"And pass up an opportunity to watch you squirm? Never."

"Come on, Polly, you're her sister! If anyone knows how to make this her best birthday ever, it's you!"

"True, but unless you're going to do my summer reading for me, you're on your own."

"No one's doing your homework for you, Polly. C'mon, Sasha, I'll give you some suggestions if you help me refill the bakery case."

"Sprig, you're a lifesaver."

* * *

sasha: i can't believe i'm about to spend two hundred dollars on a tennis racket.

sprig: you don't HAVE TO, you know.

sprig: you could probably pick her some flowers from outside the shop and she'd be just as happy with that.

sprig: as long as it comes from you, she won't care what gift you get her.

sasha: yeah, but she needs a new racket, right?

sprig: right.

sasha: and this is the best one they have, right?

sprig: right.

sasha: then that's what i'm getting. your sister's the best, so she deserves the best.

sprig: geez, waybright, you want some wine with that cheese?

sasha: give sprig his phone back, polly.

sprig: come over here and make me.

sprig: or are you afraid i'm going to kick your ass again?

sasha: you won one game of guitar hero, squirt. ONE. GAME.

sprig: and i'll win the next one, too. now get over here already, pop pop's almost done making his pain pepper surprise.

sasha: who says i'm coming over tonight? i DO have a life, y'know.

sprig: puh-leeze, you have dinner here almost every night now.

sprig: besides, if you don't come, who's going to eat my green beans for me?

sprig: it's not like i can sneak them to domino's ghost.

sasha: FINE, i'll be there in twenty.

sasha: bet i can eat more pain pepper surprise than you.

sprig: CHALLENGE ACCEPTED! YOU'RE GOING DOWN, WAYBRIGHT!                                          

* * *

sasha: hey, mar-mar! we're still on for this afternoon, right?

sasha: i found the PERFECT birthday card for Anne, every inch of it is covered in frogs :) 

sasha: ...marcy, is everything okay?

sasha: marcy.

sasha: MARCY.

sasha: marcymarcymarcy.

sasha: ...you're probably just twelve levels deep in a game of vagabondia chronicles, aren't you?

sasha: i'll be over in ten, i just have to pick up our cold brews.  

sasha: i'm outside!

sasha: mar-mar?

sasha: marcy, you're scaring me, did something happen?

sasha: can you at least send me something to let me know you're okay?

sasha: please?

sasha: marcy?

Sasha tries not to freak out as she scales the side of her girlfriend's house, but Marcy has never taken longer than ten seconds to respond to her texts, and no one's answering the door even though they have plans today, and oh god, what if she's hurt, what if--shit. When Sasha finally reaches her girlfriend's bedroom window, she sees that Marcy is hurt--just looking at the fresh black eye on the right side of her girlfriend's face makes her heart twist painfully in her chest. Sasha's knocks on the glass come out louder and more frantic than she means for them to, because she doesn't want to scare Marcy, but she needs to find out how her girlfriend got like this and, more importantly, who she needs to kill. 

"Sasha?! What are you doing up there?! Get inside, you're going to break your neck!"

"That's not what I'm worried about right now," Sasha says as Marcy helps her through the window. "What happened to you? Who did this?"

"Who says someone did it? You know how klutzy I am. I walked into a locker door when I went to school to pick up my books for this year. It's no big deal." Marcy's trying her hardest to sell this lie to her girlfriend, but Sasha refuses to buy it--bruised knuckles are a telltale sign of a fight, and the backs of Marcy's hands are worryingly black and blue.

"Mar-Mar, I can't help you if you don't tell me the truth, and I know you're not telling me the truth." Sasha carefully tempers her tone, trying not to sound accusatory as she reaches out and gently takes one of Marcy's bruised hands in her own. "How did you really get hurt?" she tries again, and the second time's the charm, because her girlfriend drops her guard with a sigh, curling her fingers around Sasha's as she reveals the truth:

"...fine, I ran into those jerks again. They wouldn't leave me alone. One of them pushed me, and I pushed him back, and...here we are," Marcy shrugs, putting up no resistance when Sasha leads her over to the bed and gathers her into a warm, safe embrace.

"Did you land a hit?"

"Sasha, what would Anne say?"

"Anne would say something boring and responsible like she always does, but Anne's not here. So? Did you?"

"...yeah, I gave him a bloody nose," Marcy shyly admits, keeping her eyes glued to her lap.

"That's my girl!"

"Sa-sha, I didn't want to punch him. I just wanted him to lay off."

"I'm kidding, I'm kidding...mostly," Sasha says, because yeah yeah yeah, violence is wrong and all that, but she can't help but be proud of Marcy for standing up to those idiots. "Why do those assholes give you such a hard time, anyway?"

"Because I'm an easy target. I don't know if you've noticed, but I'm kind of a huge weirdo," Marcy chuckles mirthlessly, leaning into Sasha's touch when her girlfriend pulls her closer.

"So what? Everyone's a little weird. Even you make fun of me for putting ketchup on my mashed potatoes."

"I don't mean 'weird' as in 'quirky,' Sash." Marcy falls silent for several long seconds then, her brow creased like she's trying to decide whether she should risk letting her girlfriend in on something that's obviously super personal. Sasha waits patiently as Marcy deliberates, running her thumb back and forth over her girlfriend's knuckles as if that's going to erase the bruises staining her skin. Finally, after taking a deep breath, Marcy begins:

"I was adopted when I was really young, and I was...kind of a handful when I was a kid--I talked too much, I couldn't sit still, I obsessed over weird stuff, the list goes on and on. My first set of parents thought I just wasn't trying hard enough--they insisted that all I needed to do was shut my mouth and focus and grow up. When I kept 'having problems,' they sent me to some Catholic school where the nuns are somehow still allowed to hit you with rulers." It's only then that Sasha notices that the bruises aren't the only marks on Marcy's hands--she has to look really closely, but when she does, she can see tiny, sliver-like scars lining her palms like tiger stripes. She can feel her blood start to boil when she lays eyes on them, and it doesn't stop as Marcy continues to speak:

"It took three different doctors to figure out that it was autism and ADHD, because it's harder to detect that stuff in girls than it is in boys. My parents...didn't like that. It wasn't something they could physically fix, like my crooked teeth or my bad eyesight. I couldn't rewire my brain, and I could only mask so much--it's exhausting trying to solve a problem when the problem is who you are. The two of them just...got fed up--I'd overhear them say that they hadn't signed up to have a 'broken' kid, that they never would've adopted me if they had known. One day, they just...drove me to the house of this couple they'd been talking to for a few weeks and never came back."

"They gave you to another family? Are people even allowed to do that?"

"No, but they did it anyway. The second ones were just as bad. They were big fans of the idea of having a kid like me, but they weren't especially interested in actually raising one. I was a prop they would trot out in front of their friends so they could brag about how they'd rescued this poor child no one else wanted, and the rest of the time, it was like I didn't exist. I just wanted to get out of there, so I ran away, and that's when I met Mama Yu. I've been here ever since." Marcy looks around her room then, weakly gesturing at the empty walls and bare tabletops. "My moms keep offering to take me shopping so we can decorate in here, but I'm afraid to, because what if they get tired of me, too? What if I have to leave this place, too?"

A lot of people don't understand how Marcy and Sasha are dating. You two are so different, people will tell her, you have nothing in common. They're wrong, though, because on some level, Sasha knows this feeling--she's been sleeping in her street clothes with cash stuffed in the pockets for years, just in case things get so bad that she has to take off in the middle of the night with no warning. Sasha and Marcy aren't apples and oranges--they're more like different flavors of the same brand of gelato. In this moment, though, Sasha wishes they weren't, because Marcy doesn't deserve to feel this way, not now, not ever. 

"God, Mar-Mar, that...that sucks," she breathes, because fuck, what are you supposed to say in a situation like this? "You should give me their addresses so I can egg their houses."

"Revenge isn't the answer to everything, Sasha."

"Yeah, well...it's the only way I know how to help," Sasha quietly admits as she holds Marcy a little tighter. "I'm not good at this emotional stuff like Anne is."

"You're still here. You didn't run away screaming even after I told you all of that. That's more than enough."

"I'll always be here, you know. Even if we break up, I'm always going to want you in my life."

"Even though I have no filter, and most of the things I like are dumb, and sometimes you have to order for both of us because I have trouble looking people in the eye? I try to tone that stuff down, but--"

"Mar-Mar, you shouldn't have to do that. You don't have to do that--not with me, or Anne, or anyone else who matters," Sasha cuts her off earnestly. "The two of us are dating you because of who you are, not in spite of it. We're not stuck with you, Marcy--we chose you, out of all the other people in the world, and we'll keep choosing you, every day that you'll have us." Sasha hugs Marcy close then, desperately trying to pour every ounce of the affection she feels for the girl into the embrace. "When I met you, I was having the worst day. Everything that could've gone wrong did go wrong. But then, I started talking to you, and all of that just...went away. I could listen to you ramble for hours--and I did! That day was the first time I was ever late for practice, because I didn't want to leave."

"You'll get sick of it eventually, though, everyone does."

"Never. I could never get tired of seeing your eyes light up when you start talking about something you love. Your enthusiasm's contagious, Mar-Mar. I almost want to try playing D&D."

"I'll get you on board one day, mark my words," Marcy laughs before looking at Sasha with misty eyes. "You're better at this emotional stuff than you think, Sash. Thank you. For everything."

"Any time, Mar-Mar." Sasha lightly taps Marcy's cheek, silently asking if she wants a kiss, and her girlfriend surprises her by leaning forward and giving her a smooch instead. "The two of us haven't gone on a solo date yet, have we? Why don't we do some damage at the mall this weekend? We can look for some stuff that'll make this room feel a little more like you."

"I'd really, really like that. Let me go ask my moms if we can order some pizza, and then we can finish planning the best birthday ever!"

* * *

That night, Sasha stops by the library before she goes home and checks out a Nintendo Switch and a copy of Vagabondia Chronicles. Telling Marcy how much she cares about her is all well and good, but she wants to do more--she wants to show her girlfriend that she never has to worry about Sasha abandoning her, and she's hoping that Marcy's favorite game will give her some ideas of how to do just that. She's watching a cutscene in between levels six and seven when inspiration strikes--the main characters are participating in some sort of ritual, making an everlasting oath to be there for each other come hell or high water, promising that no amount of time or distance will ever come between them. The clip is beautiful, with plenty of sparkles and fireworks and glowy, magicky goodness. It takes Sasha less than five minutes to track down Marcy's favorite fanartist, and it takes even less time than that to commission him to draw Sasha and Anne making the same oath to Marcy. It costs almost as much as the tennis racket she got for Anne, and her I'm-out-of-here-ASAP fund has now dwindled down to pretty much nothing, but Sasha doesn't care, because Marcy's worth it.

* * *

marcy: SASHA WAYBRIGHT, YOU DIDN'T.

marcy: I LOVE HIM, BUT HIS COMMISSIONS COST AN ARM AND A LEG.

sasha: good thing i have two of each, then ;)

sasha: seriously, though, don't sweat it. i had some extra birthday money lying around, so if you think about it, nana waybright's really the one who paid for it.

marcy: well, tell nana that this is the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me.

marcy: want to come over and help me pick out a place to hang it? we can go to the mall after. i think i'm finally ready to start decorating.

sasha: mar-mar, i thought you'd never ask <3                                                            

* * *

For the first few hours, it really is Anne's best birthday ever--the trio hits the arcade, Stumpy's Diner, and the thrift store before Marcy has to go home. Sasha uses every trick in the book to try to get her to stay, because it's not going to be as much fun if all three of them aren't there, but Marcy stands firm, because Mama Yu and Mama Liv take family game night very seriously. So, as the sky begins to grow dark above their heads, Sasha and Anne head to Flour & Daughters Bakery to end the night with a shared slice of red velvet cake (Anne's favorite).  

"Make a wish, Anna Banana!" Sasha grins as she lights the candle on top of the cake.

"You know what I wish? I wish this year would be more exciting than the last one. All I've done so far this summer is work, play tennis, and watch Sprig and Polly. I need some adventure, dang it!"

"Your wish is my command," Sasha says as a sly smile spreads across her face. She always keeps a spray can handy in case she gets inspired, and they just so happen to be within walking distance of her best work, so Sasha takes Anne by the hand and leads her into an alley that's plastered with her favorite pieces of graffiti.

"No. Way. You're the Beverly Drive Bandit?! Dude, you're a legend! That stunt you pulled at California Pizza Kitchen was wild! Oh man, Polly's going to flip when she hears about this, she's your biggest fan!"

"Aww, that's sweet," Sasha beams as she shakes the can. "Yeah, that's me, the terror of restaurant row. It gives me something to do when I'm not at practice. It'd be more fun with a partner in crime, though. Why don't you give it a try, birthday girl?" she invites, tossing the can to Anne.

"Me?! Oh, I-I couldn't," Anne stammers as she fumbles the catch, sending the can to the ground with a metallic clatter.  

"C'mon, Anne, you said you wanted adventure, and I don't want to go home just yet," Sasha presses, because her dad had been in an awful mood this morning, and she's willing to bet that it hasn't gotten any better, and she can't keep taking advantage of Pop Pop's hospitality, or he's going to get more suspicious than he already is. "I promised you the best birthday ever," she continues as she picks the can up and holds it out to Anne, "and I'm going to give you the best birthday ever. End. Of. Discussion." 

"...I guess a few sprays couldn't hurt," Anne gives in, taking the can and aiming it at one of the few blank spaces on the wall in front of her before giving the nozzle an experimental tap.

"Attagirl," Sasha breathes as the knot in her chest starts to unravel, because everything's okay, you're in control, you don't have to go back there...yet. The relief feels sweet...for the few minutes that it lasts, that is. Anne's just starting to get into it when the shrill sound of a police siren cuts through the air, making them both jump. Sasha's breath catches in her throat, because I can't get caught again, he can't find out, he'll literally kill me--

"Sash? Sasha, what are you talking about? Who's going to kill you?" Sasha shakily swears under her breath, because oh, she was saying all of that out loud, wasn't she? She swallows a scared, pathetic whimper as the siren gets louder and louder (closer and closer), and are those footsteps she's hearing? They sound close, too--too close. Sasha can't move, but even if she could, it wouldn't matter--the alley terminates in a dead end, and while she can scale a tree with no problem, she doesn't stand a chance against the smooth brick walls surrounding them. There's nowhere for them to run, but there is a place to hide--sitting up against one of the walls is a small dumpster that's just big enough to fit one person inside. Anne (sweet, selfless Anne, who can clearly see how terrified her girlfriend is) makes the decision for them--she flips the lid and shoves Sasha in, closing it just in time for two uniformed officers to round the corner. Sasha's heart is screaming at her to get out of there, because this was all her idea, she's the one who should be getting cuffed and thrown into the back of a squad car, not her amazing girlfriend. Her head is yelling just as loud, though, telling her that if she makes even one move, it just might be her last. 

Her head wins. How did everything go so wrong so fast? she despairs, and it's a rhetorical question, because she knows the answer: It's all your fault. It always is. Anne and Marcy deserve better. Stay away from them. So, like the coward she is, Sasha buries her face in her hands, sobbing in the garbage like the trash she is.

Chapter Text

marcy: morning, sash! 

marcy: yesterday was SO MUCH FUN!!!

marcy: sorry i had to cut out early.

marcy: my moms say hi, by the way!

marcy: mama yu said you should come over for family game night next week. we're going to play risk, i think you'd really like it!      

marcy: ...it's been two hours, so i guess you're not coming to the cafe today.

marcy: but that's okay! i'll drop off your stuff on my way home.

marcy: spoiler alert, the pink drink and the coffee cake are both DELICIOUS.

marcy: sprig and polly are really getting the hang of things! they're filling in for anne today. they wouldn't say why, though.

marcy: aaaaaand nobody's answering your door.

marcy: i left everything on the porch! i was going to be all romantic and climb up to your window, but we both know i'd probably end up setting something on fire in the process ;)

marcy: call me later, okay? 

* * *

marcy: sasha.  

marcy: SASHA.  

marcy: sashasashasasha.  

marcy: YOU'RE scaring ME now.

marcy: if i'm not allowed to hide my problems from you, then you aren't allowed to hide yours from me. 

marcy: sorry, i don't mean to pry, it's just... 

marcy: you've disappeared. 

marcy: and anne's still not back. 

marcy: and no one will tell me anything. 

marcy: and...

marcy: ...maybe you guys HAVE finally gotten sick of me. 

marcy: i left everything on your porch again. 

marcy: iced honey oatmilk latte today.

marcy: and a chocolate croissant.  

marcy: they're both really good. 

marcy: even though polly ate most of the chocolate and it's really just a croissant at this point.   

marcy: ...i hope you're okay, sasha.

marcy: i don't care if you never want to see me again.

marcy: i just want you to be okay.

* * *

marcy: sasha, anne's okay.

marcy: mama yu got her off with a warning because this is, like, the first bad thing she's ever done in her life.      

marcy: she isn't mad at you. 

marcy: she's WORRIED about you.

marcy: i am, too.

marcy: talk to us.

marcy: please.

marcy: if you're in trouble, we can help.    

Sasha knows that isn't true (because the only way she's ever going to be safe from her father is if he croaks), and she knows she should keep ignoring Marcy's messages (because she doesn't deserve her and Anne, surely they realize that by now), but every text just makes her miss them more. She's been hiding out in her room (and, when the house isn't safe, her car) for the past few days, and the cold, lonely feeling sitting on her chest like a block of ice is starting to physically ache. You never did have a chance to give Anne her present, that lonesome part of her points out. You should at least drop it off--then they'll know you're alive, and hopefully that'll be enough for them to move on without you. And that's how Sasha finds herself on the Plantars' front porch, dropping a wrapped box on their doorstep before turning to run back to her car.

"Ahem." A small but firm hand on her shoulder stops her in her tracks--Polly's caught her before she can make a break for it. "Wait right here."

"For what?"

"For me to get Doris." Sasha doesn't move, because yeah, she did promise Polly that she could clock her with her rolling pin if she ever hurt Anne, didn't she? As she awaits her punishment, Anne herself appears at the top of the stairs. She doesn't look any worse for the wear (thank god) as she leans over the banister and calls out to her little sister:    

"Polly? What are you doing? Who's at the door?" Anne catches sight of their visitor then, and before Polly can respond, she's down the stairs and tackling Sasha to the ground with a relieved hug, pulling her close instead of pushing her away like Sasha had expected (like Sasha deserves). "You're okay," Anne breathes, and Sasha's arms return the embrace of their own accord, because fuck, she's missed this. If there's one thing Sasha values over everything else, it's feeling safe, and being around Marcy and Anne makes her feel like nothing could hurt her. "C'mon, we can talk inside--Polly Petunia Plantar, put my present down, your birthday isn't for a whole 'nother month!"

"I'm just doing a safety inspection!" Polly protests as she holds the box up to her ear and rattles it around. "I have to make sure nothing's going to pop out and bite you!"

"I think I can trust a gift from my own girlfriend," Anne rolls her eyes as she takes the present from Polly, and a small, hopeful smile appears on Sasha's face at Anne's choice of words (girlfriend, not ex-girlfriend). "Put Doris back and go finish your summer reading." Polly reluctantly relinquishes the box and retreats to the living room, but not before throwing Sasha a glare and sliding her index finger across her throat as if to say, "You're dead meat, blondie." "Don't mind her, she's just mad that she has to finish that book," Anne says as she leads Sasha up to her room. Sasha waits until Anne shuts the door behind them with a soft click before she speaks:

"I am so, so sorry about the other night," she apologizes, nervously wringing her hands and keeping her gaze fixed firmly on the floor. "I didn't mean for you to get in trouble. I shouldn't have pushed you like I did."

"True," Anne nods as she sits down on her bed and pats the space next to her, "but it's not like you twisted my arm real hard. I could've just walked away and not done it, but I decided to try it instead. Polly's always telling me I need to work on standing up for myself more, and she's right. I don't know if you've noticed, but I can be kind of a doormat."

"Anne 'People Pleaser' Plantar, a doormat? Noooooo," Sasha teases as she takes a seat next to Anne and gently bumps her elbow against her girlfriend's. "You're not the only one who needs to work on things," she sighs, leaning over and resting her head on Anne's shoulder. "I could stand to be less of a pushy control freak."

"That's not always a bad thing. If we didn't have you, Marcy and I would probably never be able to make a decision--we'd be stuck in an endless loop of, 'Well, what do you want to do?'" They share a giggle at that, because Sasha adores her girls, but man, are they indecisive. "Maybe we could work on our stuff together?"

"Deal. You tell me when I'm being too bossy, and I'll tell you when you're not being bossy enough. Now, what do you say we call Marcy and order some take-out?"

"Wait." Anne gently pulls Sasha back down when she starts to get up to grab her phone. "The other night, you sounded really scared, like someone was really going to hurt you if you got caught. Is everything okay? Like, at your house? You've never had me or Marcy over, and you don't talk about your family much, and I'm pretty sure you're here more than I am sometimes...not that that's a bad thing! It's just...is everything okay at home?"

"Of course," Sasha answers quickly (a little too quickly, judging by the skeptical look on Anne's face). "My parents are just really strict, and really boring. There's not much to say about them. I'd much rather hang out with you and the rest of the Brady Bunch than them." The lies come out nice and smooth, because this isn't the first time she's had to use them--she's had years of practice explaining away injuries and deflecting concerned teachers and guidance counselors. Anne's proving to be a tougher nut to crack, though, so Sasha keeps the untruth train rolling: "I was just exaggerating the other night. You know I can be a little dramatic when I want to be."

"A little?"

"Yes, a little. The real reason I didn't want to get caught was because I didn't want to get grounded and benched from the squad." Sasha knows she sounds persuasive--she even manages to fool herself sometimes--but Anne looks about as convinced as she does when Polly (poorly) lies about not watching R-rated horror movies after everyone else goes to bed (she really needs to give that kid some pointers).

"Sasha, you didn't see yourself the other night. You...you looked like you were actually afraid for your life. Why do you think I took the blame? I didn't want anything bad to happen to you." Anne takes her hands then, giving them a warm, reassuring squeeze as she looks into Sasha's eyes. "I still don't. I want to help you, Sash, but I can't do that if you don't tell me what's wrong." Sasha blinks...and then she blinks again, because didn't she just have this exact same conversation with Marcy? She wants to be brave like Marcy was and confide in her girlfriend, but her fears are overwhelming her courage, because what would happen if someone found out? What if she was taken away? What if her parents were taken away? Sasha doesn't want them to rot in jail, she just wants them to stop hurting her. They don't need prison, they need help. There's still a small, childlike part of her that genuinely believes they can change, that this is the actual last time this is going to happen, and it's that part of her that refuses the out Anne gives her:

"I mean it, Anne, everything's cool. I'm fine."

"Will you tell me if you're ever not? Please?" Sasha doesn't answer right away, because it won't happen again, and even if it does, you don't need to be bothering Anne with it, you've caused her enough trouble already. Eventually, though, Anne's worried gaze wears her down, because I'm so tired of this and I don't know how much more I can take. 

"Okay, Anne, I will," she says, sealing the promise with a kiss to the back of her girlfriend's hand. "Now, let's get Marcy over here, I'm starving." Anne opens the door to her room so they can go downstairs, only to find Polly crouched in the hallway outside like she's been trying to listen in on their conversation since it started.

"Polly--"

"I had to make sure you two made up! I can't lose my Guitar Hero buddy--no offense, Anne, but you and Sprig suck."

"Hey!"

"How about a quick game before Marcy gets here, squirt?"

"Not sure why you're so eager to get your ass kicked again, but okay."

"Language, young lady!"

"Sasha says swearing is okay as long as it's not the F-word!"

"That's it, Waybright, no more kisses for you."

"Oh, come on! I can get you arrested, but I can't teach your little sister curse words?"

"Exactly."

"Get back here, Anna Banana! I demand affection and I demand it now!"

"What was that about only being a little dramatic, Sash?"

"Ugh, you're the worst!"

"Keep it up, and I'll take cuddling off the table, too."

"...yes, ma'am."

"Whipped."

"Shut up, squirt." 

* * *      

sasha: you know i wasn't staying away because i was sick of you, right?

marcy: i know.

marcy: you know we still love you, right?

marcy: sasha?

sasha: i just...

sasha: i think that's the first time any of us has ever said it.

sasha: the L word, I mean.

marcy: oh.

marcy: huh.

sasha: yeah.

sasha: huh.

marcy: ...should i have saved it for some big magical moment?

marcy: i feel like i should've saved it for some big magical moment. 

sasha: i don't know, mar-mar, i feel pretty magical right now.

marcy: this just in, folks, sasha waybright is just as big a softy as her girlfriends. maybe even bigger.

sasha: brat.

marcy: you love it.

sasha: i do.  

sasha: i love YOU.

marcy: welp.

marcy: there's that magical feeling you were talking about.

sasha: are you almost here? polly and i are going to see who can eat a whole pain pepper the fastest, and i need a cheering section.

marcy: what about anne?

sasha: she won't take a side.

sasha: also, she thinks we're dumb for doing it.

sasha: seriously, hurry UP, even a cheerleader needs a cheering section.

marcy: bold of you to assume that i won't be rooting for polly.

sasha: BETRAYAL.

sasha: this is just like when the dragon warrior turned on everybody in the cutscene after level seventeen.

marcy: you're STILL playing vagabondia chronicles?

sasha: i can't stop now, i'm only three levels away from the final boss!

marcy: when did you become such a nerd, sash?

sasha: around the time i started dating one, i think <3                             

* * *

The three of them swear they're going to stay up past midnight, but in the middle of making braided bracelets (something Mama Liv had taught Marcy how to do to channel her excess energy), Sasha nods off on Anne's shoulder. Her coach had been extra hard on her that morning, and the pain pepper contest (which had ended in a tie) had sucked her dry of any energy she had left. When she wakes up in the middle of the night, her girlfriends are gone, but she can hear them whispering in the kitchen next door:

"...worried about her, Marbles...want to believe her, but...looked so scared..."

"...can talk to my moms...Liv sees this kind of stuff at the hospital...Yu sometimes...court appointed special advocate...abused kids...might know what to do..."

"What are you two still doing up? It's three in the morning!"

"Pop Pop? Can I ask you a question?"

"Of course, kiddo. What's--yawn--what's on your mind?"

"Let's say--hypothetically--that I have this friend. And this friend--hypothetically--might be getting hurt at home. How could I help them?"

Sasha stops listening then, because no no no, they can't find out, I can't get shoved into some foster home a million miles away from them where things could be even worse, I can keep playing the game, it's only for another year, I just have to lay low, I can handle it, I can handle it. She waits until Pop Pop has gone back upstairs and she can hear Anne's soft snores and Marcy's even breaths before slipping into the kitchen and scribbling a note on the pad next to the fridge--she needs to throw them off her trail, and she's pretty sure this will do the trick:

Sorry, fam, had to duck out early to drive Mom and Dad to the airport. They're finally going backpacking through Europe! Can't believe I'll have the house to myself for a whole month. I don't know if they're going to miss me more or I'm going to miss them more. Thanks for having us over, Pop Pop! I'll beat you next time, Polly.

xoxo

Sasha

It works.      

* * *

sasha: you guys.

sasha: you GUYS.

sasha: you can't just DO that.

marcy: we can and we did! it's like you said, even a cheerleader needs a cheering section :)

anne: did you like the signs??? polly will never admit it, but she spent AGES on hers.

sasha: THIS ISN'T EVEN A REAL GAME.

sasha: IT'S JUST A PRE-SEASON SCRIMMAGE.   

sasha: WHY AM I CRYING IN THE CLUB RIGHT NOW.

marcy: this isn't a club, it's a football field ;)

sasha: oh my god.

sasha: you two are ruining my reputation as the coolest girl in this school.

sasha: BEGONE, SAPS.

anne: you sure? i bought marshmallow dream bars for halftime.

sasha: I CHANGED MY MIND, DON'T YOU DARE MOVE.

* * *

"Okay, Mar-Mar, I think I'm ready."

"YES! I told you I'd get you on board one day! Stay right there, I've been waiting to break these babies out for weeks!"

"Marbles, did you make these? They look just like us!"

"Sure did! Well, mostly. Doing the faces required surgical precision, so I brought in an actual surgeon! Mama Liv did good, huh?"

"I'll say, she even got my eyeliner right."

"So, dungeon master, where are we and what's going on?"

"I thought you'd never ask, Anna Banana. We're in the swamps of Amphibia, where a rebellion is brewing against the evil newt king who rules over the land..."

 * * *

sasha: ANNE. WHERE ARE YOU??? WE'RE ABOUT TO LAUNCH AN ASSAULT ON NEWTOPIA.

anne: and you thought you'd never be able to get into D&D XD

sasha: i need backup, soldier, not sass!

anne: sorry, sash, pop pop needs a little extra help today.

sasha: you've been saying that a lot lately.

sasha: you want us to come over? we can play some other time.

anne: nah, i can handle it, i always do. kick some andri-ass for me!

* * *

"How is this tennis tournament taking this long? We've been here for three hours and Anne hasn't even taken the court yet!"

"I think she's up next. Checkmate, by the way."

"This game sucks, Mar-Mar."

"You're only saying that because you're not good at it."

"Yet. Let's go again, best out of seven. Oh, wait, there she is! GO ANNE! WOO!"

"Ma'am, I'm going to have to ask you to put the air horn away."

"And I'm going to have to ask you to go away, funsucker."

Sasha has to watch the rest of the match from the penalty box, but that's okay, because it's closer to Anne than the bleachers are, which allows her to be the first one to congratulate her girlfriend when she wins. The crowd cheers when they kiss in the middle of the court, Marcy loudest of all.

* * *

Her luck runs out a few days later. Most of the time, Sasha's dad flies off the handle because of something she did (or didn't do), but sometimes, he gets mad for no reason at all, and she gets hurt just because she's there, daring to exist in the same space as him. This is one of those times. As he lifts her up by her shirt collar, she's not asking him to throw her up in between giggles like she did when she was a kid--she's begging him not to throw her down the stairs through terrified tears. Sasha hits every step on the way down with a series of thuds that culminate in a sickening crack when she hits the bottom. She can't help the cry of pain that slips past her lips, because she doesn't need to be a doctor to know that her arm is broken. It hurts, it hurts so bad, but she manages to scramble up and out of the house, because she has to--he's staggering down the stairs with angry eyes, and the realization that this is never going to get better (it'll only get worse if she stays) washes over her like a wave of ice water. Sasha tries not to move her arm too much as she flees with nothing more than the clothes on her back and the phone in her pocket, running and running until her legs give out from under her. Anne's words ring in her ears as she tries to catch her breath on the sidewalk:

"Will you tell me if you're ever not?"

Her good hand is shaking as she tries to text Anne, so much so that her phone falls from her fingers and onto the concrete. Her breaths are coming out shorter and quicker as she picks it up and tries again, making a call this time instead:

"Hello?"

"Pop Pop?"

"Sasha? What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"M-my dad, he...I'm sorry, I-I didn't know who else to call--"

"Hey, no, I'm glad you called me. Where are you, kiddo?"

"B-by the park. I...I need to go to the hospital."

"I'm leaving now. You just stay put, you hear?"

"O-okay."

"It's going to be okay, Sasha. You're going to be okay. I'll be right there."

Click. 

Sasha tries to keep her cool as she waits for Pop Pop to pull up, but her head is spinning, and her heart is hammering in her chest, and she can't breathe, why can't she breathe? Distantly, she can hear Marcy's voice in the back of her mind, explaining what Mama Yu had taught her to do when things got to be too much:

"Breathe in for four seconds, hold for seven seconds, and breathe out for eight seconds. In for four, hold for seven, out for eight. Four, seven, eight. Four, seven, eight. That's it, Sash...Sasha...SASHA!"

Pop Pop is finally there, looking at her with an unspeakable sadness in his eyes. He murmurs comforting nothings as he helps her into his car and drives her to the emergency room, the sorts of things that any good parent would tell their child:

"It's not your fault."

"You're safe now."

"We'll get you all fixed up in no time."

Once they're inside, the receptionist asks why they're there, and Sasha could cry when Pop Pop answers, "I need someone to look at my granddaughter's arm, now."

Chapter Text

"That should do it, love." Mama Liv is the one who patches her up. Even though the door to her room is closed, Sasha can hear her girlfriends outside--Anne's shoes click, click, click against the floor as she worriedly paces up and down the hallway, and Marcy's pencil tap, tap, taps against her notebook as she tries to distract herself by brainstorming things to draw on Sasha's cast. Bits and pieces of their hushed conversation reach her ears as Mama Liv finishes her ministrations:

"...knew something was wrong...should have done more..."

"...can't blame yourself...can be really convincing when she wants to be..."

"...just want her to be safe...love her, Marcy, I love her so much..."

"...going to be okay...Yu...on her way..."

"The authorities will be here shortly, dear," Mama Liv murmurs, placing a steady, reassuring hand on Sasha's shoulder. "They just want to ask you a few questions, and then you can come home with us." 

"You called the cops?" Sasha can feel her face grow even more pale than it already is. You shouldn't have said anything, it's really not that bad, you could've taken care of it yourself, why did you have to be such a coward? "Tell them not to come. Please. I don't want my mom and dad to get in trouble. T-this is the first time anything like this has happened. H-he won't do it again, I swear. I-it was my fault anyway, honest." Her voice shakes traitorously as the lies clumsily tumble out one after the other, and the sad, knowing look her girlfriend's mother is giving her tells Sasha that Mama Liv isn't buying a single one of them. 

"Sasha, I am required by law to report things like this, and even if I was not, there is no way I could let you return to that house in good conscience. Your safety is not just important to Anne and my daughter--it is important to me as well. I see too many people who come here for the same reason you did tonight and never leave. I refuse to allow you to become one of them."

"I just...if I had done something different...if I had tried to help them more--"

"It is not your responsibility to be a parent to your parents, love," Mama Liv cuts her off firmly, gently gathering her into a warm, maternal embrace. Sasha sinks into it with no hesitation, because when was the last time her own mother had hugged her? She can't remember--it's been so long that she can't even remember. "I am so, so sorry you were ever made to think otherwise."

"There has to be something I could've done," Sasha weakly protests into Mama Liv's chest. "I'm seventeen, I'm not a child."

"Yunan and I always tell Marcy that no matter how old she gets, she's always going to be our little girl. The same goes for you and Anne, Sasha."

"...what's going to happen to me?" she rasps, hating how small and scared she sounds (you're the strong one, damn it, you can't be breaking down like this, Anne and Marcy must think you're pathetic). 

"Let me worry about that." The door swings opens to reveal Mama Yu, who has her phone to her ear like she's on hold and a sheaf of important-looking papers under her arm. "You will be placed somewhere close and somewhere safe, Sasha, you have my word. Is she allowed visitors, Liv? Anne and Marcy are getting antsy."

"Can I let them in?" Sasha responds with a barely-perceptible nod, because even though she'd rather eat nothing but pain peppers for the rest of her life than let her girlfriends see her like this, she needs them now more than ever. "We'll give you three some privacy," Mama Liv says, giving Sasha's good hand a reassuring squeeze before leaving the room with her wife. In the time it takes her to blink, Sasha's girlfriends are at her sides--Anne's on her right, holding onto her like her life depends on it, and Marcy's on her left, uncapping a green marker so she can doodle little hearts on Sasha's cast. 

"Anne, please don't cry," she whispers as her girlfriend hiccups into her shoulder. "I'm fine, everything's fine."

"He broke one of your bones, Sasha," Anne points out miserably as she hugs Sasha tighter. "He could've...y-you could've...we could've lost you. I've lost too many people already, Sash. I can't lose you, too, I can't."

"I'm not going anywhere, Anna Banana," she promises, tenderly wiping away the tears that are sliding down her girlfriend's cheeks. "I'm going to be an overly dramatic pain in your ass for as long as you want me to be."

"So, for forever and a day, then," her girlfriend teases, and the three of them share a giggle then, one that diffuses the thick tension hanging in the air for a brief, sweet moment. It's quick to return, however: "Why didn't you tell me the truth, Sash? We could've gotten you out of there before this happened."

"It was never this bad before. In all those years, he never hurt me so much that I had to come here."

"Years?" Marcy's scribbling has stopped, and she's looking at Sasha in sad disbelief. "This has been going on for years?" Anne whimpers into her shoulder when Sasha makes an affirmative noise in the back of her throat, because how could someone do this to her brave, beautiful girlfriend even once? How had Sasha kept her head above water for all that time? 

"God, Sasha, how are you so strong?"

"I don't feel very strong," Sasha reluctantly admits, and it's at that point that her girlfriends climb onto the hospital bed, where the three of them easily melt into a much-needed cuddle puddle. There isn't nearly enough room for the three of them, but somehow, they make it work (together, they can make anything work). "That's part of why I didn't tell anyone. I didn't want anybody to think I was weak. I didn't want people to look at me differently...I didn't want you guys to think any less of me."

"Sasha." Marcy takes her good hand then, using her thumb to make slow, soothing motions back and forth on Sasha's palm. "Nothing has changed about how we feel about you. You're still the strongest girl we know. Even if you weren't, we wouldn't be any less in love with you than we are now. You're more than just a ridiculously high pain tolerance and insane biceps to us. Anne and I are dating all of you, Sash, not just the 'good' parts," she continues in earnest, making air quotes when she says the word "good." 

"There aren't a whole lot of those. I'm a liar. I manipulate people--I manipulated you," she mutters ashamedly. "I freak out if I'm not in control, I--"

"Sasha," Anne interrupts softly, "how much of that do you do because you're scared?"

"...all of it."

"You know, they don't just treat broken bones here," Marcy pipes up as she plays with the ends of Sasha's ponytail. "Mama Liv knows some good counselors. You don't have to, or anything, but--"

"No, that's...actually a good idea. Thanks, Mar-Mar." There's a commotion out in the hallway then, and Sasha tenses up, because she thinks it's the fuzz, but she relaxes when the only people who pop up in the doorway are Sprig and Polly.

"Geez, Waybright, you look terrible," Polly says as she hops up onto the already-overcrowded hospital bed, but her voice has no bite to it--it hasn't since that night the two of them started bonding over classic rock bands.

"So do you, squirt. Oh, wait, that's just your face," she teases, snickering as Polly whaps her on her good arm and pretends to look offended.

"What Polly means to say," Sprig rolls his eyes, "is, 'Hi. How are you feeling? We brought you cupcakes. Would you like to borrow Frobo?'"

"What the fuck is a Frobo?"

"Sasha Waybright--"

"What? They already know all the swear words, Anne."

"Because you taught them all the swear words."

"Not all of them. Marcy taught them the Klingon ones."

"Marbles!"

"It was for educational purposes!" Marcy insists, grabbing a cupcake before she goes back to drawing on Sasha's cast.

"Ahem. As I was about to say, this is Frobo," Polly says as she reaches into her backpack and pulls out one of those stuffed animals from Construct-A-Carnivore. It looks like some sort of robotic frog, and oh, now the name makes sense. "I don't really use him anymore, since I'm not a baby--"

"She still sleeps with him every night," Sprig stage-whispers as he adds his name next to Marcy's.

"--so I figured he could keep you company. Since you're such a wuss, and all."

"You won that last pain pepper eating contest by a hair, squirt."

"A win's a win. Fine, you sore loser, if you don't want to borrow him--"

"I never said that. Grab me a cupcake, would you?"

"Sure, you look like you could use a hand."

"You're the worst, squirt."

"Love you too, Waybright."

* * *

"Psst, Sash, you awake?"

"Mhmm."

"Marbles?"

"Present and accounted for. Also, really sleepy. What time is it?"

"Late. Like, really late. Sorry, forget I said anything--"

"Nuh-uh, something's obviously bugging you. What's on your mind, Anna Banana?"

"...can we not hide things from each other anymore? Please? I just...I can't stop thinking about how differently tonight could've ended, a-and--"

"Sounds like someone needs snuggles. Sash, help me out here?"

"Roger--yawn--that, ranger...I'll be honest with you guys from now on, I promise."

"Me too."

THUD.

"Polly?"

"I'm not here to steal Frobo back, I swear!"   

* * *

Sasha's foster father is a character, to say the least. He's one of Mama Yu's ex-Marine buddies, and he introduces himself as Grime, of all things. Sasha's sure there's a story there, but she doesn't feel comfortable enough to ask--she doesn't feel comfortable enough to talk to him at all, really, because her entire life has changed literally overnight. She's gone from living in a house where she has to sneak food and tiptoe around creaky floorboards to staying in an apartment where she doesn't have to do any of that. Old habits are hard to break, though, so for the first few weeks, Sasha does her best to make herself invisible, only speaking when spoken to and not leaving her room unless it's absolutely necessary. Mercifully, Grime doesn't push her--the two of them share the space in companionable silence, staying out of each other's way as much as they can in the cozy flat. Things don't change until one night after a particularly brutal cheerleading practice--she's still hungry despite having helped Grime demolish a pizza for dinner, so in the middle of the night, she steals downstairs in the dark and starts picking through the fridge as carefully and quietly as if she's defusing a bomb.

"You know you can just take something if you want it, right?"

Sasha jumps a foot in the air at the sudden sound of Grime's voice, nearly hitting her head on the top of the refrigerator on her way up. "Geez! What were you, a stealth agent, or something?"

"I was, actually! Toss me a can of Bog Grog, would you?"

"What are you even doing up this late?" Sasha cautiously asks as she throws him his off-brand seltzer (if he hasn't hurt you by now, he probably isn't going to). 

"This is when all the good Suspicion Island reruns are on!"

"You watch Suspicion Island?"

"My niece made me watch an episode and now I can't seem to stop. I need to catch up before season three starts next week."

"...have you gotten to the one where Chad and Vivica explore the volcano?"

"I was just about to start it!"

"It's a good one. Up until the cliffhanger at the end, at least."

"You're welcome to watch it with me."

"...you know what? Yeah, let's do it."

* * *

The watch parties are Grime's idea. Once season three premiers, Marcy, her moms, and the Plantars cram into his apartment and crowd around the TV at 5:30 p.m. sharp every Friday night. Grime and Mama Yu tell them all literal war stories over Anne's homemade Thai food before they watch the new episode. By the time the mid-season finale rolls around, Sasha has settled in nicely--Marcy helps her decorate her room, she doesn't flinch anymore when Grime so much as raises his hand, and she even starts to feel secure enough to tease him a bit.

"Grimesy, you cannot be serious." 

"My mother was a very eccentric woman!"

"I know, but she named you Grimothy?"

"I will not be made fun of in my own house!"

"Technically, this is an apartment."

"Oh, go answer the door, Lieutenant Literal." Sasha laughs and does just that, expecting to find four Plantars on the other side, but today, there are only two.

"Where's the rest of the Brady Bunch, squirt?"

"Anne had to take Pop Pop to the doctor," Sprig supplies as Polly nervously fiddles with the straps of her backpack, "so we brought take-out from Felicia's. And our math homework. We figured Marcy could help us with it."

"Felicia's, eh?" Sasha raises an eyebrow with a smirk as she helps Sprig unload a bag full of scones. "That's not really a dinner place, is it? I wonder what made you decide to pick up from there...wait a second, isn't your and Ivy's anniversary coming up?"

"How could you possibly know that?"

"Kid, I've seen the heart eyes you've been walking around with all week. So have the astronauts on the International Space Station, because they're that big."

"Ugh, you're just as bad as Anne!"

"Hey, if your actual big sister isn't here to tease you, then it's my duty as your honorary big sister to fill in for her."

"You're an honorary pain in my butt is what you are."

"Love you too, Sprig!" Sasha playfully calls after him as he disappears into the kitchen to grab some plates. Then, she turns to the only other Plantar who's present with a concerned look, because Polly's normally quick to join her when she's poking fun at Sprig, but now, she's staring at her phone like she did when she was told that Domino died. "Hey, what's the matter, squirt? Did Doris kick the bucket, or something? If you want, we can go shopping for a new--"

"The only way Doris is getting replaced is over my dead body," Polly snaps defensively, and Sasha belatedly remembers why--while she'd been helping him close one night, Pop Pop had told her that the initials carved into that ratty old rolling pin belonged to Polly's mother. "Sorry, I'm just really worried about...this math homework. Yeah, it's the math homework, I don't get it at all. When's Marcy getting here?"

"Not for another half hour, you guys are way early. Hey, maybe I can help you with your homework."

It takes Sasha less than five minutes to come to the realization that she cannot, in fact, help the Plantars with their homework. 

"When the fuck did they change how to do math?! It's math! Two plus two equals four, end of story!"

"Hey, family! What are we yelling about today?"

"MARCY! Thank god. We have a math emergency, and Sasha is not helping."

"Hey, at least I tried."

"I've got this one, Sash," her girlfriend smiles before pressing a smooch to her forehead and handing her a box of popcorn. "Why don't you go get the snacks ready while I take care of this pre-calculus crisis?" 

"Be my guest," Sasha says, snapping a picture of the three people in her living room and sending it to Anne before she heads over to the microwave. 

sasha: wish you were here! 

sasha: everything okay with pop pop? i know you said he was getting dizzy a lot last week.

sasha: marcy and i will save you some popcorn, we can drop it off when we drive sprig and polly home.

Anne doesn't respond until they've all gathered around the television, and when she does, she doesn't address Sasha's question about Pop Pop at all. 

anne: oh my god, tell marcy i owe her my life for helping them with that homework, i was up for AGES trying to figure out this stupid new way they're doing math.

sasha: anne, how much sleep did you get last night?  

anne: a whole three hours!

sasha: and the night before that?

anne: ...two.

sasha: and the night before THAT?

sasha: anne.

sasha: ANNE.

sasha: ANNA. BANANA.         

sasha: do marcy and i need to hold an intervention? 

Sasha doesn't get a response to that, which means the answer is yes. She screenshots the conversation before sending it to Marcy, who's shoveling popcorn into her mouth at the other end of the couch as Chad monologues about the pterodactyls that are clones of his dead brother.

sasha: see above. operation: get anne to go the fuck to sleep commences as soon as the show's over. 

marcy: aye aye, commander! 

* * *

The Plantars' house is a mess (which is saying something, because Pop Pop runs an even tighter ship than Grime does). Anne doesn't look much better--if the deep yawns and slumped shoulders are any indication, she's about to fall asleep in the middle of sweeping the family room floor, and Sasha isn't about to let that happen.

"Show's over, Anna Banana," she says, using her I'm-the-captain-of-the-squad voice as she plucks the broom out of Anne's hands. Her girlfriend jumps a little bit, as if she's just now realizing that she's not the only person in the house anymore.

"Sash?" The thick drowsiness and confusion coating Anne's voice is doing nothing to quell Sasha's worries, and neither is the fact that there's no sign of Pop Pop anywhere. No matter how late it is, he's always there to greet them when they come over, armed with a warm hug and a Werther's for each of them. Now, though, all that's there to welcome them is an ominous-looking stack of paperwork on the coffee table--it's stamped with the logo of the local hospital, and something tells Sasha that it isn't for Anne, or Sprig, or Polly. "Give it back, I have to finish--"

"The only thing you have to do is get in bed, young lady," Sasha cuts her off firmly before sweeping Anne into a fireman's carry and heading towards the stairs.

"What are you, my mom? Put me down," Anne whines, feebly beating her fists against her girlfriend's back as Sasha takes her up to her room. "You're being too bossy again! Tell her, Marbles!"

"No can do, Anne!" Marcy calls from where she's ushering Sprig and Polly towards their rooms. "Sasha's right--you look like microwaved death, and Dr. Marcy's prescription is a full night's rest!"

"Traitor," Anne mutters, and Sasha chuckles when her girlfriend finally stops struggling and flops against her in defeat like a dead fish. "Sash, please, I'm fine, I just need to clean up--"

"Tell you what," Sasha cuts her off for a second time as she lays Anne down on her bed, "if you can stay awake for the next five minutes, you can go back downstairs."

"Mmkay," Anne slurs sleepily, already subconsciously snuggling into her pillow, "this is going to be--yawn--easy."

Anne lasts exactly two and a half minutes before her soft snores fill the room, allowing Sasha to slip back downstairs and meet Marcy in the kitchen. "Are the kids asleep?"

"Yeah. Polly did not go quietly, but yeah. I'll do the dishes if you do the laundry?"

"You read my mind, Mar-Mar."

It takes them a few hours to get the house back in order, but by the time they're done, even Pop Pop would be proud. While she cleans, Sasha comes across a bunch of paperwork for the cafe--it's all dated within the last week, and it's all got Anne's swirly signature at the bottom. Is this why she hasn't been sleeping? Doesn't Pop Pop usually handle all this business stuff? Sasha keeps telling herself to go look at those papers on the coffee table when she's done, but as the minutes tick by, she's having trouble keeping her own eyes open. By the time she and Marcy finish, the only coherent thought they have is to get home before their parents send a search party after them. Before they leave, though, they make sure Anne's tucked in and drop goodnight kisses on her forehead. Then, they do the same for Polly and Sprig, because Marcy and Sasha aren't only children anymore--they haven't been for a long, long time now.                                                                                                  

Chapter Text

Grime's never been one for pictures. He has a photograph of his niece on his kitchen counter, but otherwise, the surfaces and walls in his apartment are as bare as the ones in Marcy's bedroom had once been. That all changes once he starts going to the football games Sasha cheers at, and her parent-teacher conferences, and family game night at Olivia and Yunan's house. As the weeks go by, the flat fills up with more family memories than he's made in his entire life up to the point when Sasha blew into it--there are snapshots of the two of them on the field, around the dinner table with Marcy and her moms, and making bunny ears behind Sprig and Polly's heads. One night, when Sasha's giving him a blow-by-blow of her day at school ("Our principal made us go to some lame job fair and had the nerve to tell me that being a certified badass isn't a viable career path, can you believe him?!"), Grime realizes he's been missing something all these years and didn't even know it. So, after Sasha turns in for the evening, he gives Yunan a call and asks her to meet him for lunch the next day--he needs her help preparing some legal documents. When he tells her what they're for, she teases him gently, saying he's gone soft. Before he got his first (and so far only) foster placement, Grime would've taken offense to that, but now, he can't bring himself to disagree, because Yunan's right, and he wouldn't have it any other way.

* * *

sasha: talk to me, munchkins. is anne taking care of herself, or do marcy and i need to hold another intervention?

polly: well, she's not falling asleep standing up anymore, so there's that.  

sprig: now we have the opposite problem.

sasha: what do you mean?

polly: she wasn't awake enough before, but now, it's like she's TOO awake.

sasha: maybe it has something to do with all the red bull you guys have lying around?

sprig: we don't carry red bull, pop pop calls energy drinks devil juice and refuses to stock them.

sasha: there's a whole case in the back room, i saw it when i was getting more cherry syrup the other day.

polly: well, that would explain the jitters, she's worse than sprig when he doesn't take his meds.

sprig: speaking of which, can you take me to get my adderall refilled, sash?

sprig: i think mrs. croaker's dog got into the medicine cabinet when anne was babysitting him.

sprig: i could've sworn i had another week's worth of pills.

sasha: anne can't drive you? i thought she didn't have tennis on thursdays.

polly: she's meeting with that bean guy who keeps trying to scam us.

polly: i TOLD her i would take care of it, but nooooooo.

sprig: i don't think he's going to be intimidated by a ten-year-old girl with a rolling pin, polly.

polly: WE'LL NEVER KNOW UNLESS YOU LET ME TRY!

sasha: why doesn't pop pop just give this guy his "i'm not mad, i'm just disappointed" face? that's WAY scarier than doris.

polly: doris would like you to know she's offended.

sasha: sasha would like you to know she doesn't care :p

sprig: pop pop's not back yet, he's still on that wellness retreat thing.

sasha: oh yeah? who told you that?

polly: anne. she said the doctor recommended it after his last appointment.

sasha: ...uh huh.                          

sasha: okay, bud, i'll take you to get your meds, just let me finish helping grime clean out his storage locker. be ready in an hour. 

polly: can we get mcdonald's on the way back?

sasha: you have food at home, squirt.

polly: MCDONALD'S! MCDONALD'S! MCDONALD'S! 

sprig: c'mon, sash, you used to be fun.

sasha: what do you mean USED TO BE? no one's more fun than me!

polly: the last time you were over, you made us go to bed at 9:30.

sasha: it was a school night, and you know what they say, rugrats your age need nine hours of sleep to function right.

sasha: wait.

sasha: oh my god.

sasha: oh my GOD.

sasha: i'm turning into my responsible, boring girlfriends!

sasha: WHEN did I start turning into my responsible, boring girlfriends?!

sasha: and, more importantly, WHY DIDN'T YOU TWO SAY ANYTHING ABOUT IT?!?!

polly: uh, we just did.

sasha: that's it, we're getting mcdonald's AND ice cream on the way home.

polly: i had a feeling you'd come around :)

sprig: can't we just get ice cream AT mcdonald's?

polly: everyone knows the ice cream machine's always broken, sprig.

sasha: see you soon, ankle-biters! i expect that science project to be done by the time i pull into your driveway, polly!  

sprig: sasha, WHAT did we just say?

polly: okay, MOM, just make sure you bring enough cash, it's feeling like a twenty-piece nuggets kind of day.

* * *

"Grimesy, is this you and Mama Yu?"

"It sure is! We had to find some way to spend our downtime."

"And you chose fencing?"

"We needed to keep our hand-eye coordination sharp! I think I still have the swords around here somewhere." 

"Think you could teach me? Coach keeps saying my basket tosses are getting sloppy."

"Does he say that all the time, or only when Anne and Marcy come to watch you practice?"

"That's irrelevant, Grimothy. Are you going to give me lessons or not?"

"It's really something you'd want to learn?"

"Of course! You're probably tired of me kicking your ass at chess, so I figured we could find something new I can kick your ass at."

"I still don't understand how you got so good at that game so fast, or how you've even beaten me once. I was trained by a grandmaster!"

"You may have a grandmaster, but I've got a Marcy. We started playing during one of Anne's tennis tourneys, and she's been schooling me on how to whoop your butt ever since."

"I could've done without Yunan's competitive streak making it to the next generation."

"You say that as if you're not the most competitive person to ever be competitive. I was pretty sure your head was going to pop off when we beat you at Monopoly last weekend."

"That is quite enough pointing out my hypocrisy for one day. Now, are we going to spar or what?"

"Bring it on, old man."

"I'm forty-seven!"

"My statement still stands."

* * *

marcy: dude, did you know anne quit the tennis team?

sasha: she did WHAT?

sasha: WHEN???

sasha: WHY??????

sasha: anne LOVES tennis. it's the only time she gets a minute to herself. why would she give that up?

marcy: i have no idea! chess club got out early today, so i went to the courts to surprise her and walk her home, but her coach said she stopped playing WEEKS ago.

marcy: something's wrong, sash.

marcy: i still haven't seen pop pop since the watch party for episode twelve, have you?

sasha: can't you ask mama liv to look into it?

marcy: even if i did--and i HAVE--she couldn't tell me anything. HIPAA violations and all that. you know how seriously she takes the rules.

marcy: maybe sprig and polly know something?

sasha: anne told them pop pop's doctor sent him on some wellness retreat thing after his last appointment, which is BS, you saw that stack of papers from the hospital.

sasha: AND all that paperwork for the shop. why is ANNE signing all of it? even if he IS meditating in the mountains somewhere--which he's definitely NOT--pop pop could still run his business with that basic old people phone of his.

sasha: and he WOULD, too, Plantars' Place is that man's baby.

sasha: it doesn't add up, mar-mar, NONE of this adds up.

marcy: so what do we do, fearless leader? you know anne. she'd rather kiss a bug than admit something's wrong, and she'd rather EAT that bug than ask for help.

sasha: i...i don't know, mar-mar. how do you help someone who doesn't want it?

marcy: i guess...

marcy: i guess you just be there for them until they're ready.

marcy: or until everything explodes, in which case you'll already be on standby to pick up the pieces.

sasha: i really, REALLY don't want to sit around and wait for everything to explode.

marcy: me neither, which is why we're going to pick up a pizza and take it over to anne's house for dinner tomorrow night. we can pretend we were just in the neighborhood, and maybe while we're over there, we can figure out what's going on.

sasha: look at you taking charge, mar-mar.

marcy: i learned from the best <3

* * *

"How did you know you wanted to join the military?" Sasha asks the question in the middle of their afternoon fencing session, and it catches Grime so off guard that she's able to disarm him. 

"...you know, I don't think anyone's ever asked me that before," he remarks thoughtfully. Instead of moving to recover his weapon, he sits down on a bench near the edge of the mat and gestures for her to join him. "Why do you ask?"

"Well...I'm graduating this year--if I don't flunk anatomy--and I kind of have no idea what I'm going to do after that. I was always so focused on just making it to this point that I never really thought about what I'd do when I finally got here."

"I wish I had some inspirational sob story for you, but the truth is that I joined because I didn't know what to do with my life. I wasn't exactly...on the up and up when I was younger," he chuckles in a way that suggests that's an understatement. "My graffiti nearly rivaled that of the Beverly Drive Bandit. Did you know she retired recently?"

"You don't say!" Sasha laughs nervously, because there's no way he knows it's her, right?

"It's true! I joined because I had no direction, and without some, I was going to go nowhere fast, but I stayed because I liked being a part of something bigger than myself...and because I liked kicking ass. I still do," he winks, causing an undignified snort to escape Sasha's nose. "Speaking of which, I want a rematch. You only won that last round because you distracted me."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, Grimesy."

* * *

"Hello?"

"Hi, Mama Yu."

"Sasha! Please tell me you will be joining us for family game night on Saturday. Olivia wants to play Pictionary, and I need someone who can draw more than stick figures on my team if I'm going to stand a chance against Marcy."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world. Actually, I was wondering if I could come over a little early. I need a lawyer."

"I thought you retired."

"Does everyone know I was the Beverly Drive Bandit? How? I was so sneaky--the sneakiest!"

"Yes, it was very sneaky of you to spray paint your real first name all over California Pizza Kitchen."

"Hey, people do graffiti tributes all the time. For all anyone else knows, Sasha's one of my girlfriends."

"Just how many of those do you have, Ms. Waybright?"

"Only two, and they're all I need. A-anyway, I don't need you to bail me out--I need you to help me with some paperwork. I tried filling out the forms myself, but there are so many of them, and all the legal mumbo jumbo was putting me to sleep."

"We lawyers are good at that, aren't we? I'd be happy to help you, Sasha. May I ask what the papers are for?"

The smile that spreads across Yunan's face when Sasha tells her can be seen from space--it appears that old Grimothy isn't the only one who's gone soft.

* * *

"Get out."

"Anne, please, you're shaking--"

"I said get out! I keep telling you, everything's fine, I've got it all under control!"

"Hey, don't yell at Marcy, she's just worried about you, we both are!"

"Well, don't be, it's none of your business."

"You're our girlfriend, of course it's our business! What happened to not hiding things from each other anymore? Or do the rules not apply to you?"

"This is different."

"Is this really what our first fight's going to be about? Us caring about you?"

"If you really cared, you'd drop it."

"Guys, stop. Anne, this isn't like you, please--" 

"Why don't you two worry about your own messed up lives instead of prying into mine?!"

"..."

"..."

BZZT! BZZT! BZZT!

"...I have to pick Sprig up from band practice. You two need to leave. Now."

"...okay, if that's really what you want. We love you, Anne."

"..."

"...c'mon, Mar-Mar, let's go."

* * *

polly: sasha?

polly: anne didn't mean it.

polly: please don't be mad.

polly: please don't break up with her.

sasha: woah woah woah, who said anything about breaking up, squirt?

polly: you guys had that big fight.

sasha: you heard about that?

polly: i didn't hear ABOUT it, i heard it HAPPEN. i was upstairs finishing that science project.

sasha: shit. sorry, squirt.

polly: it's okay, just...PLEASE don't break up with her. she's just going through...something, i still don't know what, but you and marcy make her SO HAPPY, and...i guess i've gotten used to having you two around.

sasha: you can say you'd miss us, squirt. the sky's not going to fall if you show an emotion.

polly: fine.

polly: i'd miss you.

polly: i'd miss competing with you over everything, and the way marcy makes learning not suck, and crashing your sleepovers in the middle of the night.

sasha: aw, squirt.

sasha: listen.

sasha: sometimes people who are dating fight, that's just how relationships are. it doesn't mean they're going to break up.

sasha: i don't know what's going to happen in the future.

sasha: maybe the three of us won't date forever, but even if marcy and i aren't anne's girlfriends, we're always going to be your family.

sasha: we ripped up the receipts, squirt, good luck returning us without them.

polly: wow, waybright, that's...the mushiest thing i've ever heard. ew. gross. disgusting.

sasha: oh, you're DEFINITELY feeling better.

polly: only a little. i'd feel a LOT better if you took me and sprig to see that new horror flick.

sasha: done. let me grab marcy and we'll make it a family movie night.

sasha: ...you think anne would want to come?

polly: she's not home.

polly: and i don't know when she's coming back.

sasha: next time, then, for sure.

* * *

"Is there a reason you're typing so aggressively over there? Did my keyboard cuss you out or something?"

"Sorry, Grimesy, I just...have a lot on my mind."

"Anything I can help you with?"

"Actually, yeah. I'm...thinking about enlisting. Army, though, not Marines. I know it's a different branch, but maybe we can grab lunch with Mama Yu one day and talk about it? You know me, I'm a jump-and-ask-questions-later kind of girl. I want to change that--work on not getting in over my head so much, y'know?"

"I do. You'll have to tell me how you somehow managed to inherit my impulsive streak." The snicker they share at that is light, but it's enough to start to loosen the threads of frustration and worry that have been knitting themselves into knots in her chest since she left Anne's. "Of course we can talk about it. I wish I'd had someone to help me with all that blasted paperwork." Grime pauses then, placing a hand on her shoulder--the calluses on his palm are rough, but the paternal affection in the gesture is soft. "I'm proud of you, kid."

"Even though I'm not following exactly in your footsteps?"

"Sasha, the Marines were my dream. I want you to follow your dream. That's what I'm proud of you for--doing what's right for you, not what you think other people want."

"Thanks, Dad." Sasha's hand flies to her mouth as soon as the "D" word slips past her lips, because oh my god, you did not just say that, it's way too soon, you're probably freaking him out--

"Of course, kid." Grime, as it happens, is not freaking out--rather, he's bringing Sasha in for a hug, one that isn't forced or out of place: it feels natural, and familial, and right. It gives Sasha just enough courage to reach into her nightstand and pull out a manila folder that's been sitting in her drawer for a few days now. It's meant to be a Christmas gift for Grime, but now seems like a better time than ever to give it to him. Sasha has seen a ton of other people do the same thing on YouTube, and every single video she's watched has a happy ending, but she's still nervous as she hands over the legal documents that Mama Yu had helped her with, because this is a huge step, what if he's not ready, what if he'll never be ready, what if--

"You...want me to adopt you?"

"You don't have to," Sasha is quick to reassure him, keeping her gaze glued to the floor as she anxiously fiddles with the strings of Marcy's chess club hoodie.

"Would you excuse me for a moment?" Grime is quick to jump up and hurry out of the room (probably so he can think of a way to let me down easy), but he's back just as fast, and he has a manila folder of his own in his hands. There's a smile on his face as he gestures for Sasha to open it, and she can't help the tears that prick at the corners of her eyes when she sees what's inside--it's a set of adoption papers, one that's identical to the packet Mama Yu had prepared for her. "I guess great minds think alike."

"Yeah, I guess they do."

* * *

The call comes in the middle of the night, jolting Sasha out of the dream she's having about Marcy's latest D&D campaign.

"Hello?" Sasha yawns, making no effort to mask the drowsiness and annoyance in her voice (because that had been a great dream--Marcy was giving her thank-you kisses for saving her from the dreaded three-headed dragon).

"Sasha?" She's wide awake now, because Sasha has never heard Polly sound so scared. She's never heard Polly sound scared period.

"Squirt? What's wrong? Where are you?" she asks as she stumbles out of bed and fumbles for the light switch with her free hand.    

"Home," Polly squeaks in a watery voice. "C-can you take me and Sprig to the hospital?"

"The hospital?! Why? What happened? Where's Anne?"

"Anne's the one in the hospital, Sash." Sasha nearly drops her phone as her ears start to ring--she only catches snippets of the next things Polly says: "...was taking Sprig's meds...Red Bull was hers...bad reaction...something with her heart...driving...hit a guardrail...scared, Sasha, I'm scared--"

"O-okay," Sasha cuts Polly off as she pulls on her shoes and writes a note for Grime. She's unable to keep the waver out of her voice, because she's gotten this exact same call before--it ruined so many years of her life, she can't go through this again, she can't. "Okay, I'm going to grab Marcy on my way to your house and we'll all go over there together. Do you want me to stay on the phone until I get there?"

"Yes. Please."

"You got it, squirt. I'm getting in the car now. I'll be there before you know it."

"Sasha?"

"Yeah?"

"C-can you tell me everything's going to be okay?"

Sasha doesn't hesitate: "It's going to be okay," she says, as much for Polly as for herself. "It's going to be okay, squirt, it's going to be okay..."

Chapter Text

"Any news?"

"Not yet. Mom said she'll let us know as soon as she hears something."

"Where'd the rugrats go?"

"Sprig went to the bathroom, and Polly went to get something from the vending machine...but that was twenty minutes ago."

"You take Sprig, I'll take Polly?"

"Roger that, commander."

It doesn't take Sasha long to track Polly down--she's clutching Frobo to her chest in front of the candy machine, staring at the snacks like a solution to the problem at hand is hidden somewhere among them. The sight makes Sasha feel like someone's got her heart in a vice grip, because she's been where Polly is right now--she remembers far too clearly what it's like to be ten years old in a hospital after a car accident, being eaten alive from the inside out by a single, looping thought--what if they don't make it, what if they don't make it, what if they don't make it? It had been a special kind of hell to have to deal with that by herself, and she'll be damned if she's going to abandon Polly to the same fate.

"What can I get you, squirt?" Sasha's voice is soft as she asks the question, but she winces when it startles Polly nonetheless. "Is it an M&M's kind of day, or a Reese's kind of day?" It turns out that it's not a candy kind of day at all--instead of taking the quarter she's being offered, Polly latches onto Sasha like she's a life preserver, burying her face in Marcy's Sasha's chess club hoodie with a shudder.

"Why does this keep happening, Sash?" The cold, unforgiving hand around Sasha's heart tightens its hold when Polly whimpers into her chest. "Is Sprig next? Am I next? What's going to happen to us if Anne--"

"Hey, no," Sasha firmly interjects in an effort to stop the kid from spiraling. "Anne's one of the strongest people I know--stronger than me, even. If anyone's going to pull through, it's her. She's too stubborn to croak."

"My parents were strong," Polly murmurs as she tightens her arms around Sasha's waist. "Stubborn, too. They still died."

"Yeah, well, you didn't know me back then. I will personally kick the grim reaper in the nads if he tries showing his face around here," she promises, mentally patting herself on the back when a genuine (albeit teary) chuckle escapes the little girl in her embrace.

"No nad kicking necessary," Sprig calls out as he makes his way over to them. "Marcy just heard from her mom--Anne's awake. She's going to be okay," he continues as Polly and Sasha heave twin sighs of relief. "They cleared her for visitors, but we can't all go in at once."

"...you and Marcy go first," Polly tells Sasha as she takes the hand Sprig offers her, not protesting like she usually does when he gives her hair a gentle ruffle. "I need a minute." Sasha gives Sprig a questioning look, as if to ask, "You got her?" Sprig gives her a nod in response, like he's answering, "Always." As she makes her way back to the waiting room, Sasha has to do that breathing exercise Marcy had shown her, because now that she knows Anne's going to be alright, her relief is melting away into anger. How could her level-headed, responsible girlfriend have been so reckless? How could someone who cares so much about the lives of others have been so careless with her own? Doesn't she know how much she means to Sasha--to everyone? Doesn't she know that their trio would fall apart without its heart--   

"Woah there, captain!" Sasha immediately relaxes under Marcy's touch, leaning into the comforting hands that settle on her tensed-up shoulders. "Did you have a fight with the vending machine, or something?"

"No, I just...this didn't have to happen. We could've helped her. We told her we'd help her, and...god, Mar-Mar, how could she be so stupid?"

"Hey, I get it," Marcy soothes as she gathers her girlfriend into her arms, "but yelling at each other is just going to make things worse. The most important thing right now is making sure Anne's okay. There'll be more than enough time for us to sort out our emotional shit later."

"Stop the presses, everyone, Marcy just dropped her first curse word that isn't from Star Trek."

"Your filthy sailor mouth must be rubbing off on me."

"What will your parents do when they find out you've been dating such a bad influence?"

"Please, we both know how much my moms love you. Especially Mama Yu, she's always saying how much she likes grabbing lunch with you and Grime every week." Sasha has yet to tell her girlfriends why she's been grabbing lunch with Mama Yu and Grime every week, because Marcy sometimes freaks out a little when her routine is shaken up, and Anne keeps her family closer than close--how are they going to react when she tells them she's planning to ship off somewhere that's a million miles away from them? Stop, Marcy's right, we can worry about that stuff later, she tells herself, sliding her hand into Marcy's (they fit together with ease, like adjacent pieces of a puzzle) as they head to their girlfriend's room. Just focus on Anne, just focus on Anne, just focus on-- 

"Anne." Her girlfriend's name falls from her lips in a relieved rush when Sasha finally lays eyes on her, because she's been preparing herself for the worst (maybe she's in a coma, maybe she doesn't remember anything, maybe she's d...), but Anne is awake, and alert, and--most importantly--alive, thank fuck she's alive. The only physical trace of the accident is a bandage on the left side of her girlfriend's face, but Sasha's more concerned about the look in Anne's eyes--where there's usually an endless reserve of hope and warmth and love, there's just...nothing. Seeing Anne like this feels wrong, because she's the industrial-strength glue that holds them together, the one who keeps Marcy from analyzing things into oblivion and Sasha from solving all her problems by punching them. Her girlfriends are more than willing to help hold her together the same way, so why won't she just let them? For a few minutes, no one talks--the three of them are silent as Sasha and Marcy bookend their girlfriend on the bed and rest their heads on her chest (because it's not enough just to see her, they need to hear her heart beat, beat, beating with their own ears). Then, Anne speaks up, her voice uncharacteristically raspy and faint (from the accident or whatever it is she's been going through, Sasha doesn't know):

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to snap at you...or to say that your lives are messed up...or to kick you out. Things have just been..." Anne trails off then, weakly shrugging as she shakes her head.

"We know, Anne. Will you please tell us why?"

"The only ones who believe Pop Pop's doing yoga on a beach somewhere are Sprig and Polly," Sasha says as she keeps her ear pressed to Anne's shirt, taking comfort in the steady ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum of her girlfriend's pulse. "Where is he really?"

"...in the rehab facility next door," Anne finally admits in a whisper. Marcy and Sasha wait patiently for her to elaborate, each taking one of her hands with a reassuring squeeze. "When he started getting dizzy, I figured it was just standard old people stuff. I took him to the doctor just in case, and...he had a stroke. We didn't even make it into the building, it just...happened, right there in the parking lot." Anne's breath hitches then, and Sasha and Marcy cuddle closer to her, weaving a safe, little cocoon of love around her using their arms and legs. "He's doing a lot better than he was, but it'll be a little while longer before he can come home."

"Anne, we're so sorry."

"Why hide that, though? Sprig and Polly aren't babies, and...he's our grandpa, too."

"...my parents were both perfectly healthy. But cancer doesn't care if you're healthy or not. We lost them within months of each other. Polly and Sprig were young, but not young enough to not remember. They get nervous if Pop Pop and I so much as cough too loud. I couldn't freak them out with this. I promised my mom and dad I'd take care of them...and Pop Pop--he was already old when they passed away, and he hasn't gotten any younger."                        

"So, what, you were just going to go to school and run the shop and take care of Sprig and Polly by yourself until he comes back?"

"That was the plan," Anne nods with a humorless chuckle.

"Anne, that's insane, no one can do all that alone."

"I had it handled until tonight."

"You call mixing your brother's meds with Red Bull having it handled?"

"Sasha, what did we just talk about--"

"No, Marcy, I'm not going to sit here and pretend this is okay, and you shouldn't, either. You could've died, Anne!"

"So what?"

"Excuse me?!"

"You heard me. So what? Who cares?"

"Are you kidding me?! We do!"

"Why? It's not like it would've been a big loss." Marcy and Sasha exchange an incredulous look at that, because how could Anne possibly say that? Where on earth is this coming from? "I'm not smart like you," she despairs as she gestures towards Marcy, "or strong like you," she continues, weakly waving a hand at Sasha. "I'm just...whatever this is supposed to be," Anne finishes as she feebly motions at herself.

"Anne, you're the nicest person I know."

"What does that matter? Anyone can be nice."

"Yeah, but not everybody is." Sasha's never heard anyone sound so earnest as Marcy gently turns Anne's head towards her so that they're looking straight into each other's eyes. "Did you know that you were my first friend? Ever? In my entire life?"

"That can't be true, we didn't meet each other until last year."

"It is, though. You're the first one who didn't make fun of me for not getting a joke. You're the first one who didn't tell me to shut up when I started rambling about Vagabondia Chronicles. You're the first one who didn't snap at me for stimming. You gave me a chance when no one else would, Anne. You met me where I was instead of asking me to change, and I'll never be able to put into words how much that means to me."

"Everyone's always told me to toughen up," Sasha says before Anne has a chance to protest. "My coach, my parents, my so-called friends on the squad, everyone. But not you--you made me feel safe enough to be soft, Anne. If it hadn't been for you, I'd still be back in that house. I'd still be getting hit every other day because I wouldn't have had the courage to admit that I needed help--the courage that you gave me. You made me strong, Anne. You still do. So don't you dare tell me that being nice doesn't matter--it matters to us, more than we could ever, ever tell you."

"...I promised I'd take care of everybody, though--I can't even do the one thing I promised to do."

"Anne, do you really think that when your parents said, 'everybody,' that didn't include you, too?"

"Marcy's right. I never got to meet them, but I know your mom and dad wouldn't want you not taking care of yourself like this."

"...they'd love you two."

"I'm sure we'd love them, too--we love you, after all."

"So, so much. You try so hard to make everyone happy, Anna Banana, but your happiness matters, too."

"Marcy's right, again."

"I usually am!" The three of them share a laugh at that, and it's just enough to pop any lingering tension between them like a soap bubble.

"So, how long does Pop Pop have left over there?"

"They said he should be able to leave in a few more weeks."

"Okay, I can take the munchkins to school and pick them up, they're on my way, anyway."

"And I can help them with their homework."

"We can take turns handling dinner, Grime's been teaching me how to actually cook food instead of just microwaving it."

"I think I know the perfect person to help with the shop, I can talk to her tomorrow before D&D."

"You guys, that's too much, it's only for another couple of weeks--"

"We're a team, Anne, so we're going to handle this like a team."

"Yeah, we're the three musketeers, not the one musketeer who tried to do everything alone and burned herself out."

"...okay, I guess a little help couldn't hurt."

"Fucking finally!"

"Language, Waybright!"

All three of their heads shoot up then, because none of them said that--it came from a cart by the door, one that wasn't there when Sasha and Marcy came in. Sasha pulls back the blanket covering it to reveal Sprig and Polly (and the plate of doughnuts they pilfered from the cafeteria).

"Really, rugrats?"

"You two were taking too long!" Polly complains as she makes her way over to the bed and throws her arms around Anne's neck. "Scare me like that again, and Doris will be the least of your worries."

"I wouldn't dream of it, Polly. How much of that did you guys hear?"

"Just the mushy stuff, unfortunately," Sprig rolls his eyes before doing an exaggerated impression of Anne's voice: "Oh Sasha and Marcy, I love you sooooo much!"

"Not as much as I love you, cutie," Polly snickers as she imitates Sasha. 

"No, I love you more!"

"No, I love you more!"

"Oh my god, we do not sound like that!"

"I don't know, I couldn't really tell the difference."

"Marcy! Whose side are you on?!"

"The right one, obviously," Sprig smirks before turning to his older sister. "We also heard that Sasha's going to try to cook. Why would you want to poison us like that? Have we not been good siblings to you?"

"You guys have been the best," Anne assures him, straining to smother a laugh as Sasha flips her little brother the bird. "That's not why Sasha's helping with dinner. C'mere, Sprig. You too, Polly. There's something we need to talk about..."

* * *

sasha: you made us jerseys?

marcy: HECK YEAH! TEAM SASHANNARCY FOR THE WIN!

anne: how did you even get that word to fit on the back of the shirts???

marcy: sheer force of will!

marcy: also, mama liv's old bedazzler.

sasha: they're perfect, mar-mar.

anne: yeah, team sashannarcy for life!

sasha: ...yeah...for life...

* * *

"That's a new apron."

"Old, actually, it was my mom's."

"Well, she had good taste, it's cute...what was she like? Wait, sorry, you probably don't want to talk about--"

"Sash, it's okay. I...actually think talking about them would be nice. I've spent so much time trying to forget the bad stuff that I've forgotten to remember the good stuff. Mom was the sweetest person ever."

"Sweeter than you?"

"Ten times sweeter than me. She had a higher sugar content than our unicorn frappuccinos! She taught me all the words to every goofy Thai love song she knew, and we'd spend every weekend marathoning sappy rom-coms. Every birthday, she'd make me a red velvet cake, and I'd wish for a love story like the ones in her cheesy movies."

"...did you ever get your wish?"

"Nah."

"...oh."

"I got something better."

"...oh."

"Dad was the one who taught me how to cook, and when he wasn't doing that, he was taking a million embarassing pictures of the three of us. I think we still have some of them in the attic...Sash? Sash? SASHA WAYBRIGHT, DON'T YOU DARE GO UP THERE! I WILL WITHHOLD MAKEOUTS FOR A MONTH, DO YOU HEAR ME? A MONTH!"

* * *

Business booms when Plantars' Place and the Tea Shoppe finally join forces. No one's happier than Sprig, who takes every shift with Ivy that he can get. With Felicia at the helm, Anne finally has time to just be a kid again--she rejoins the tennis team, makes her triumphant return to Grime's Suspicion Island watch parties, and asks her girlfriends to prom using the fanciest latte art she can draw. They both say yes without words, opting to kiss her silly in the middle of the cafe instead. Pop Pop gets cleared to come home just in time to help Grime and Marcy's moms take a million and one pictures of the girls in their formalwear--he's leaning on his cane a little harder, and his words are coming out a little slower, but his hugs are just as warm, and he's still able to pull those caramel candies out of thin air.

"Have her home by nine, ladies."

"Pop Pop."

"Okay, I'll give you until ten thirty before I send Polly out looking for you."

"Don't think I won't! Just give me an excuse to use old Doris here."

"Thanks, Pop Pop, we'll take it."

* * *

"Have I told you how good you look in your tux?"

"Have I told you how good you look in yours?"

"You know who looks better than both of us, though?"

"Marcy," Anne and Sasha say at the same time before dissolving into giggles. Their girlfriend returns with three glasses of punch just as Anne tugs on Sasha's tie to pull her in for a kiss.

"Make sure to leave room for Jesus, you two!" she teases.

"Ugh, I'm so glad this isn't Saint James, you know some nosy nun would actually say that to us if we were there."

"No nuns detected!" Marcy jokes as she playfully pretends to scan the gym. "Tactical smooches incoming!" Sasha and Anne just laugh as their girlfriend lands a kiss on each of their cheeks. "Ooo, I love this song! May I have this dance, m'ladies?"

"You may, Marbles."

"Of course, Mar-Mar."

The three of them spend the next few hours swaying together on the dance floor, taking turns dipping and twirling each other when they're not murmuring sweet nothings against each other's lips. Eventually, as the music starts to wind down and their legs begin to ache, Anne, Marcy, and Sasha take their leave, stopping at Flour & Daughters Bakery before heading back to the Plantars' house (because they've still got some time before Pop Pop sics Polly and her rolling pin on them). It's over a shared slice of apple pie (with a scoop of mint chip ice cream on top for Marcy) that Sasha's post-graduation plans come up, and to her surprise, she's not the one to broach the topic:

"This is the best thing I have ever tasted--other than literally everything you make, Anna Banana."

"Thanks, Sash. Polly and Sprig are still helping me with a plan to smuggle you chicken satay during boot camp."

"You...know about that? I've been agonizing over how to tell you guys for weeks, and you already know? How?!"

"We overheard my moms talking when we went shopping for my dress," Marcy answers. "We were waiting for you to bring it up. We didn't want to talk about it until we knew you were ready."  

"Well...what do you guys think?"

"Is this what you want?"

"Yeah. Yeah, it is."

"Then we think you should follow your heart, Sasha--you'll always have ours, no matter how far away you are."

"Are you sure? I'd understand if you guys don't want to do the whole long-distance thing. This relationship would probably be easier with only two people in it, anyway."

"I had a long talk with my moms. They did the whole long-distance thing, too. If they could make it work, then we can make it work," Marcy insists as she lays her hand on top of Sasha's. "We've made it through tougher stuff before."

"Marcy's right," Anne nods, smiling as she adds her hand to the pile. "Weren't you the one who called us a team? I don't care what would be easier, Sasha. I have two amazing girlfriends, and whatever I need to do to keep both of them in my life, I'll do it. It sounds to me like you're just trying to get out of sending us romantic letters," she teases with a wink.

"It's not that," Sasha rolls her eyes with a grin. "You two had better believe I'm going to write you a ton of mushy love notes, especially since they're going to take our phones away for the first few weeks. It's just...we say we can stick it out now, but what if the distance is too much for us? What if...what if you guys like it better without me here?" she asks quietly, finally confessing what she's really afraid of. Anne reaches across the table then, gently cupping Sasha's face with her hands and bringing her in for a kiss. This one is different from the quick, chaste smooches they've been exchanging all night--there's a fire burning fervently behind it, an intense, unwavering devotion that refuses to be snuffed out. Marcy follows suit soon after Sasha and Anne break apart, silently telling her girlfriend that there's no way they could ever like that better, because having her around is the best. 

"Hey, this is a bakery, not the back seat of your car! If you're going to suck face, take it outside!"

"Sorry, Mr. Flour!"                                                                                                                                                                            

Chapter Text

Everyone shows up to see Sasha off. Pop Pop and Felicia pull out all the stops, catering a party the likes of which the Plantars' backyard has never seen. Sasha's helping Sprig decide how to ask Ivy to their school's end-of-year dance ("I'm telling you, kid, you can't go wrong with a heart-shaped pizza, it worked on Marcy and your sister!") when she catches sight of Polly out of the corner of her eye. Her honorary little sister is hovering near the appetizers a few feet away, like she's trying to find an opening to pull Sasha aside. Sasha tells Sprig she'll be back in a minute before making her way over to the snack table, grabbing some candy out of a bowl and offering Polly a piece.

"M&M for your thoughts?"

"...nah, it's stupid."

"Not if it's important to you. C'mon, squirt, what's up?"

"...I wanted to give you something before you left," Polly eventually says, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a hair ribbon, not unlike the polka-dotted one she wears in her own hair. "After my parents passed away, Pop Pop took us to Thailand. Thought it would be good for us to get away, reconnect with our roots and all that. Anne and I went shopping, and I bought this. The lady who sold it to me said it's good luck--she said it would help keep the people I love safe. I know she probably just told me that to make a sale, but I haven't lost anyone since I got it. It's been a while, and I know it won't work forever, but maybe there's enough luck left in there to keep you safe, too." Polly doesn't look Sasha in the eye as a few beats pass in silence, nervously twisting the strip of fabric this way and that while she waits for a response. "Sorry, this was dumb," she mutters when none comes, moving to shove the ribbon back into her pocket. "Forget I ever said anything--"

"Polly." Sasha doesn't bother trying to hide her tears--these people have been slowly turning her into an incurable sap since the day she met them, and it appears that her transformation from heartstomper to old softy is finally complete. "Will you help me put it on?" Polly's crying too now, but there's a relieved smile on her face as she fastens the fabric around Sasha's ponytail holder. She doesn't ask Sasha to make an impossible promise, to swear that she'll always come home no matter what--Polly just hugs her tight, secure in the knowledge that her big sister would never abandon her if she could help it.

"I love you, blondie."

"Not as much as I love you, squirt."

* * *

Dear Marcy,

Living in the woods sucks. I slept in a hole last night, I'm getting eaten alive by mosquitos, and I have no idea what day it is.

BUT I'm saving you every cool rock I find out here. There's this funky little pink one that looks JUST like Sprig.

It's not ALL bad. You can see the stars SO much better out here. I still remember the names of all the constellations from when you pointed them out on our first date. They're really pretty. Not as pretty as you and Anne, but pretty. It's...nice, knowing that you can see the same ones. It kind of feels like you're here with me, even though you're not. And...I'm learning a lot about myself. I'm capable of a lot more than I thought I was. Turns out I'm more than just a pretty face and a pair of pom-poms, who knew?

Anyway, I hope you're not hitting the books TOO hard. I know you're, like, quadruple-majoring in literally EVERYTHING, but I expect you to have some FUN, too. You'd better have at least ONE crazy story to tell me by the time I get my phone back.              

I love you, Mar-Mar. Give Anne extra hugs and kisses for me.

xoxo

Sasha

* * *

SASHA SASHA SASHA!

Guess what??? The three of us are moms now! We adopted a bird! Well, I adopted a bird, but Anne already loves him, and I know you will, too! His name's Joe Sparrow. My moms are already calling him our child. It'll be great practice for the real thing one day.

I miss you. A lot. The cafe's WAY too quiet without you and Polly going at it, and family game night just isn't the same without your trash talk. Grime tries, but his insults just aren't as creative as yours. Anne FINALLY agreed to share custody of your letterman jacket, though. It helps.

I can't WAIT until I can call you. I want to get your take on this book I started writing. It's about these three girls who get teleported to a world full of talking frogs. I know it sounds weird, but there has to be at least ONE person out there who'd read it, right? Maybe I should pitch it as a TV show instead. I bet Nickelodeon would take it--on second thought, it has more of a Cartoon Network vibe.

I based the most badass character on you. She's nothing compared to the real thing, though. You're capable of ANYTHING, Sash. Your face IS really pretty to look at, but you're so much more than that--you've ALWAYS been so much more than that to us.

Enclosed please find all the love I could fit into this envelope. You may not be able to see it, but I hope you can feel it <3

Sincerely,

Mar-Mar

* * *

Dear Anne,

I've bean missing you a lot.

Have I told you lately how brew-ti-ful you are?

Words can't espresso how much you mean to me.

...it's not the same in a letter, is it?

I can't wait to flirt with you in person again. AND to eat something other than MREs, I miss your pad thai SO MUCH, and the goofy love songs you sing while you're making it.  

I miss YOU more, though, you AND the rest of the Brady Bunch. It's funny, when people used to ask me about my family, I had nothing to say, but now, I can't shut up. I want to tell everyone I know about my cool-as-hell dad, and my badass moms, and my awesome grandpa, and my gremlin siblings, and my incredible girlfriends.

DON'T tell Grime I called him cool, though, he'll NEVER let me hear the end of it.

I'll call you the minute I can, we NEED to set up some watch parties so we can mow through the rest of your mom's rom-com collection. We've seen some pretty good ones so far, but you were right--what we have is way, way better.

Take care of yourself, Anna Banana. You'd better believe I made Sprig and Polly promise to tell me if you aren't.

Sending you a whole latte love,

Sasha

 * * *

Dear Sasha,

Your puns mocha me very happy :)

I'm already working on the menu for your welcome home dinner. It's four courses. So far. I'm not done yet.

Everyone here misses you just as much as you miss them. Maybe even more.

You should hear Pop Pop, he brags to anyone who'll listen about the amazing granddaughter he has in the Army.

Sprig took your advice and used the heart-shaped pizza trick. He and Ivy BOTH told me to thank you.

Polly...is still Polly. She chased a rude customer off with her rolling pin the other day. You would've been so proud.

I won't tell your dad you called him cool...IF you don't tell him I told you I caught him wearing an Army sweatshirt instead of his Marines one.

He's SO proud of you, Sash. All of us are.

Felicia asked me to come up with some new stuff for the shop's menu last week. I can't wait for you to try "The Sasha"--it's the perfect blend of spicy and sweet, just like MY Sasha ;)

I think you'll also really like "The Marcy"--it's got six different colors AND surprise exploding boba balls at the bottom.

Speaking of Marcy, I...took her to meet my parents the other day.

We don't have to, but...maybe when you come home, I could take you to meet them, too.

I can't wait to marathon the rest of those love stories...and to continue our own. If anyone was meant to bean together, it's us.

Love,

Your Anna Banana

* * *

Things come full circle when Sasha goes home on leave for the first time. She doesn't tell anyone she's coming, not even Grime. She just waltzes into the apartment one morning to find him munching on a bag of chips in front of the TV, wearing an Army sweatshirt and a beard that's longer than she's ever seen on him.

"I go away for three months and this is what I come back to? Unacceptable, captain."

"I can still wipe the floor with you, lieutenant."

"That's Private Waybright to you."

"Out there, maybe. You'll always be my second in command where it counts," he smiles, and Sasha doesn't need him to say it to know that he's talking about the two Hs--in his home and in his heart. "Does anyone else know you're here?"

"Nope. What do you say we go get some coffee? I know this really great cafe a few blocks away."

* * *

"I'll be with you in a second!" Anne doesn't look up from the espresso machine as she finishes making a drink, giving Sasha the perfect opening to sidle up to the bakery case undetected. "Can I interest you in a number three?"

"I'm more interested in getting your number, cutie." The pick-up line (the very one that had started it all) is what gets her girlfriend to look up--it takes a minute for Anne to register what she's seeing, but once she does, her eyes light up like the sun, because in this moment, Sasha isn't just a name at the end of a letter like she's been for so many weeks: she's finally here, she's finally, finally home where she belongs.

"SASHA!" The two of them slot together like a key in a lock, holding each other like they never want to let go. Sasha doesn't think anything could wipe Anne's ear-to-ear smile off her face, but soon enough, it melts into an annoyed frown as her girlfriend whaps her on the arm. "Why didn't you tell us you were coming?! We could've picked you up from the airport! I could've made punny welcome home signs!"

"What is going on out here--BLONDIE! HOLY SHIT! Sprig, quit making out with Ivy in the supply closet, Sasha's back!"

"Nice to see you too, squirt," Sasha laughs as Polly shoves Anne aside and tackles her with a fierce hug. It doesn't take long for Sprig and Ivy to join the pile, and Sasha can just barely hear Pop Pop in the back, telling Felicia to call Marcy's moms. Speaking of Marcy, Sasha needs to find a table big enough for all of them, and the one in the corner occupied by a super cute dungeon master looks like it'll do the trick. Marcy is just as oblivious as Anne was, her nose buried deep in the latest Cynthia Coven book. "Excuse me, cutie, do you mind if I grab a seat?"

"Sorry, I have two awesome girlfriends, and there are plenty of empty tables--wait, you're one of my two awesome girlfriends!"

As Marcy slams into her like a freight train and the other members of her family start pulling up chairs one by one, Sasha can't help but think about how lucky she is. Out of all the possible lives she could have imagined herself living, this one is the best.

One could even say she likes it a latte.