Chapter Text
She’s doing it again.
Sterling’s best friend has like, almost zero bad habits. In fact, Sterling would say that her best friend is almost completely perfect. Sure, sometimes she clasps her hands in her lap instead of joining hands with the Wesleys’ for prayer before digging into their weekly family dinners. And yeah, sometimes she spaces out when Sterling’s talking, so Sterling will have to repeat herself. And okay, sometimes she leaves abruptly with barely an explanation. It’s cool, Sterling can deal with that. They’ve known each other forever.
But it drives Sterling crazy when April Stevens chews on her pen cap. It’s one of the least “proper” things April does, and she’s been doing it ever since they started high school together two years ago. The pen chewing didn’t always bother her. It was just this thing April did, engrossed in studying or homework, thinking, always thinking.
Something’s shifted recently, though. Now, when April chews her pen, Sterling’s face gets hot and there’s a weird pressure in her stomach. It’s not unlike how she feels when she and Blair watch a movie and there’s a scene with the main characters getting to know each other in the biblical sense. Maybe this feeling is even a little stronger than that.
It doesn’t make sense. The scenes filmed with the tight close-ups, two bodies pressed together, the expanse of smooth skin and the soft panting—that leaves something to Sterling’s imagination, there’s anticipation there. She can imagine herself, has imagined herself in that scenario.
This? The tip of a pen in her best friend’s mouth, the best friend she’s known since the third grade… What could her libido possibly glean from that? Seriously! She should find it downright unsanitary how April is nibbling at the tip while she carefully reads a problem, dragging her tongue along it as she’s mulling over the answer, and—
“What?”
Sterling blinks rapidly, taking in the rest of the room. April’s on her stomach in Sterling’s bed, feet kicked up in the air as she works on this evening’s homework assignment. She has always been most comfortable doing homework here. She has always been most comfortable doing mostly anything here.
April’s looking up at Sterling with a snarky glint in her eyes, flashing one of those smug, crooked grins. Sterling loves how that grin has only increased in confidence over the years they’ve known each other. Sterling loves a lot of things about April.
Jesus Christ, what is wrong with her?
After a few more seconds of silence, April’s face falls. “Sterl? You okay?” She covers Sterling’s hand with her own, and this finally shakes Sterling from her stupor.
“Wha-uh? Yeah! I’m great! Super, totally great!” It’s a lot. It’s hot in here. Did her dad turn the thermostat up this evening? It’s not even cold outside, it’s literally September, so if anything she should be cold with the AC blasting. Should she find a hoodie just in case? Better safe than sorry, she’d hate to be hit with a wall of cool air out of the—
April squeezes her hand, eyeing her quizzically. “Are you sure? You’ve been dissociating in my general vicinity for like, five minutes.”
Sterling can’t pinpoint exactly when April’s big, concerned eyes and warm, comforting touch gained the power to render her a blubbering, blushing mess, but it’s highly inconvenient. April is her safe space. If April is making her heart race rather than calm, Sterling… isn’t sure how to deal with that.
“I- I’m- Yeah, I’m good. It’s like, a little hot in here, but I might just need to go downstairs and adjust the- the temperature thingy. Thermostat! Yes, sorry, gosh, the heat might be melting my brain?”
April uses her free hand to adjust the neck of her sweater. “Really? I find it rather cool…” She stops, eyes widened, scrambling to sit up. “Oh my God, Sterling, are you coming down with something? Sterling! We tell each other when we’re not feeling well. We spend way too much time together not to take precautions when the other is feeling unwell. Do you need acetaminophen to reduce your fever? Shall I go downstairs and prepare some herbal tea?” She presses one hand to the side of Sterling’s neck while the back of the other checks Sterling’s forehead for any excess heat.
Oh, Jesus. Oh, crap. This is not the commotion Sterling wanted to cause. April’s panic weirdly, as always, has a calming effect on her. When April panics, Sterling can be the calming presence. When Sterling panics, April assumes the role. That’s the way it is. Blair jokes that the world would probably implode if there were any simultaneous panic.
So it makes it easy to gently pull April’s hands away, give one a quick peck, and offer a smile. “A, really, I’m fine. Love you for caring, love you for checking in.”
April flushes pink, so she must finally be feeling the hot air coming through the vents, too.
“Okay, you’re obviously warm too, so I’m gonna go check the AC.” Sterling hops off the bed, heading out. She turns back in the doorframe. “You gonna be alright while I’m gone?”
April scoffs. “Please, Sterl, I practically live here. I’ll manage.”
“Let me be a polite hostess!”
April sticks out her tongue, and Sterling runs out the door and away from any further thoughts of her best friend’s tongue anywhere near, on, or in her.
***
Blair intercepts her before she even reaches the stairs.
“Are you and Stevens done being nerds yet? You know it’s fucking zombie murdering time.”
It’d taken Sterling a while to adjust to Blair referring to April as “Stevens.” Up until Blair joined the lacrosse team in freshman year, April was simply “April” or “Munchkin” or “Second Sister of Mine.” Post-lacrosse, Blair only called her “Stevens.” Probably because her teammates referred to each other by last name only. Probably because this was Blair’s way of showing April they were, like, equals. Teammates or something.
Much like doing homework and quietly enjoying each other’s company is Sterling and April’s nightly ritual, playing video games to decompress is Blair and April’s.
Sterling knows for a fact that April has some anger to let out, specifically from the mounds and mounds of pressure her dad puts on her, so video games are an excellent outlet. And Sterling’s happy just to watch. With April’s eyes blazing, completely focused on the screen, an intensity so palpable reaches deep into Sterling’s gut and tangles up all her signals. Like, sometimes her gut will tell her it would be perfectly acceptable to lean over and kiss the lip April’s been worrying between her teeth. It would be a terrible, maybe even catastrophic idea to oblige that signal, but still.
“Nah, I’m just going to check if we need to crank up the AC. We’re getting kinda warm.”
“Um, Sterl? It’s like the Arctic in here. Me, personally? Freezing my tits off. Why do you look like you did when we watched Fifty Shades?”
Frick. Literally why had she agreed to watch that with Blair? Ugh. That smirk tells Sterling there’s no escape. She can’t keep anything from Blair.
“Urghh, come on!” They kinda trip over a few steps on the way down as she drags Blair by the wrist all the way into the kitchen. She leans against the counter, studying the granite, the centerpiece, anything but the topic at hand. Sterling’s nails seem awfully interesting. Maybe she needs to go get them done? A nice baby blue, perhaps, or a sea foam green might be fun to vibe with the end of summer…
“Well? Are you just gonna leave me hanging?!”
Right.
“I’m having… thoughts.” Or, like, a peachy color could be cute?
She looks up at Blair who’s gaping at her, blinking slowly. “Congratulations on achieving… basic… human functions?”
Sterling groans, knowing she definitely has to elaborate. “Okay, so… ugh, how do I even say this? It’s so weird and gross. It’s weird and gross, right?”
“…I don’t know, because you have not told me yet.”
“Right, so April does this thing—“
“Oh man, it’s such a riot when she does things!”
“Blair!”
“True, sorry, doing the zip of the lip.” She mimes just that.
“Thank you. Okay, as I was saying…” Sterling really isn’t going to be able to get this out, is she? Here goes nothing (or everything), in one breath: “April does this thing, and at first I thought it was kinda gross but just like, a quirk of hers, so whatever, it helps her think, maybe. But now she does it and I feel warm and tingly and breathless and also maybe like I’m gonna pass out? What does it mean?” Blair is still staring at her. “Oh, you can speak now.”
Blair makes it a whole thing to mime unzipping her lips. “Sterling?”
“Yes?”
“You still haven’t told me what the thing is.”
“Oh.” Sterling feels very stupid. “She chews her pen.”
“Oooooh, oral fixation. Sterl, I didn’t know you were into that!”
Sterling smacks Blair’s arm. “Not like that!”
“Sounds a lot like that, my sweet twinny twin.”
“Wait, where are mom and dad?” Sterling asks, suddenly feeling self conscious of where this is going.
“Dad’s whittling ducks, mom’s out for a mani-pedi.”
Dang, Sterling would have gone with her if she knew!
“So she sucks on the pen, and you wish it were…”
Sterling tilts her head, not sure how to finish Blair’s thought.
“Your nipples?” Blair’s eyes are wild, obviously teeming with more dirty thoughts like, “Ooh, or your clit!”
“Blair, have you been watching porn?” Sterling whispers the last word, thoroughly scandalized.
“It’s educational!”
“It’s mostly degrading for all the women involved.”
“Yeah, which is why I only watch videos from the porn for women category.”
“I don’t think that really means… nevermind. We got way off track. Are you saying these thoughts are…?”
“Super normal, Sterl. I had similar thoughts last year, went and touched a boob about it.”
“And…?”
“Eh. Not for me. Still on the quest for the D, little sis.”
“You’re only three minutes older than me!” Sterling huffs. “Wait, whose boob?”
“Oh, one of the girls in that Satanist cult. Pretty nice, actually. The girl and the boobs.”
“Interesting.”
“Yeah, so go touch Stevens’ boobs about it.”
“I think this is more than an experimental boob grab, Blair.”
“Duh. You’re definitely in love with her.”
Every single one of Sterling’s thoughts screech to a halt, even the ones about her nail color choices. This one, this absurd, absolutely impossible thought is the only one that matters. “Whoa. Whoa whoa whoa whoa whoa. Who said anything about in love with? I might have, like, a little crush, but like you said, it’s normal!”
“Mmmm, no, Sterl.” Blair pats her hand and gives her a look that’s not too far from the church lady oh, bless your heart look. “You’ve been in love with Stevens for a looooooong time now.”
“I… no, no way, nuh uh, no sir-ee Blair.”
“Yes sir-ee, Sterl.” Blair nods slowly. “I clocked it in the sixth goddamn grade.”
Memories, memories stretching five years back, swim to the surface of Sterling’s mind. Yeah, they were already best friends before then, inseparable, but the sixth grade did mark a change between them.
April started coming over more often, mostly because they were paired together on so many projects when they were in middle school. It was just easier for her to be around more often than not. Her parents got antsy about it because they didn’t want it to be too much, for it to turn into another Adele Meisner situation—Sterling’s heart still breaks for the baby second-grade April she never knew—but her own parents had assured the Stevenses that April was fine, she was welcome anytime, and they would never raise a fuss about it. There was an unspoken your reputation is safe that they seemed to respond to. And from there, April was easily, so so easily integrated into the Wesley family.
So they had their family dinners, and their family game nights, and their family outings, and their… Sterling-and-April-exclusive sleepovers with… platonic… cuddling… and- and handholding, and inno- innocent cheek kissing… and- and sometimes their necks would get tense from studying, so there would be massaging…
And with… with the level of trust they’ve been building over the years, the love and the care and the…
And it- it’s not like Sterling’s been with anyone else. Like, yeah, maybe some awkward movie dates with clammy-handed boys who tried to kiss her with far too much tongue, but never anyone she cared enough to pursue further. It never in a million years occurred to her that…
“Holy shit, I’m in love with April.”
Blair throws her arms up. “Ding ding ding! We have a winner!” She does a victory lap around the kitchen, simultaneously playing the part of her own adoring crowd, but then she stops and points a severe finger at Sterling. “But also, language.”
Sterling rolls her eyes. “I’m sorry, may I be excused to deal with my newfound gay awakening?”
“Only if you promise to use protection.”
Sterling snatches a piece of dark chocolate from the candy dish on the island, unwrapping the foil before popping the whole chunk in her mouth. “Mind your business, Blair!” comes out more like “Myb’r bibiss, Blai!”
She heads over to finally check the thermostat, but Blair, ever the one to get in the last word, says, “If I minded my business, you wouldn’t have a gay awakening to deal with!”
Why? Why is it a comfortable 71 degrees? Why does she have the literal hots for April Stevens? Why is it more than that? Why does she not mind that it’s more than that? Why is she totally okay with the thought of marching upstairs, taking April by the hand, and pulling her in for a kiss without warning?
Why, when she gets back to her room, is she paralyzed by the sight of April, still crouched over her textbook, something like a halo cast above her head, even though it’s just a trick of the yellowish light?
Why has she become a cliché?
April notices she’s being watched. “Welcome back, stranger.” Her mouth tugs into one of Sterling’s favorite grins, and with this recent epiphany… God, Sterling wants to know how that mouth feels, not on her cheek or her hand or her forehead—well, those too, but like… everywhere. Her own mouth would be a great start.
“Contrary to popular belief, I’m the one who actually lives here,” Sterling argues.
“Then you should be able to tell me why it was so hot in here, though it seems to have cooled considerably.” April burrows farther into her sweater.
Sterling gets comfortable on her bed again, textbook propped open in her lap. “Yeah, I turned it down a bit. You’ll be here tomorrow, too? Since you practically live here?”
April sucks a sharp intake of breath like she’s been badly injured. “Sterl, I’m so sorry, but I’ve got another date tomorrow evening.”
Sterling tries to keep it lighthearted, joke about it like they always do, but her voice betrays her with a demanding quality. These dates only started this year, but there’s already been a lot. “Who is it this time?”
April’s good enough to pretend she doesn’t notice. “Draven,” she says with a theatrical cadence, “from that Satanic club at school. Our parents think I can help him find Jesus.” She chuckles. “Though I do surmise he’s already found Him and said ‘no, thank you!’”
Sterling clears her throat, tries to infuse her tone with more ease. “Wonder when your dad will stop setting you up on all these dates.”
April shrugs. “Keeps him happy to cart me around to all the eligible teenage dunces as some sort of trophy. Just showing me off. You can look, but can’t touch.” She pulls at her hands, twisting the purity ring on her finger.
“Like you’re not already doing enough,” Sterling snorts, her usual protective instinct taking over. They’ve had this discussion before. She really, really doesn’t want April pushing herself too hard.
“I know, I know, but as Daddy always says,” April puts on an exaggerated Southern drawl, “Gotta kiss some frogs to find your God-fearin’ prince.”
“Do you need to kiss any frogs when—“ you should be kissing me, “when you’re busy maintaining straight As, running the debate team—O Captain, my Captain—“ April cracks a smile at the reference, “Fellowship coleader, applying to colleges, and oh yeah, nurturing our beautiful, lifelong friendship?”
April tilts her head, narrowing her eyes. “It’s… never bothered you like this before, Sterl. You know this is just how things are. No harm.”
Sterling sputters, then settles on, “None of them deserve you, that’s all.”
April wrinkles her nose, bearing the cockiest of smiles. “Well, who does?”
Me. I do. But Sterling can’t be so bold, not yet. Instead, she just stares into April’s eyes. She could get lost, she could drown in the depths of April’s eyes. She would let herself, too. She could really—but hang on, April’s eyes are lowering to look at… oh crap, did she get chocolate on her mouth? That’s so frickin’ embarrassing. Oh, even more embarrassing, April’s hand is on her cheek, probably about to wipe it off. Uh… but…
THUD. THUD. THUD.
Sterling so wishes Blair wouldn’t use her fist like a battering ram. April drops her hand, and whatever spell that was, it’s broken. Hopefully there wasn’t chocolate, or she got the chocolate, or… ugh, this is confusing. Frickin’ Blair. Making Sterling realize her frickin’ feelings for frickin’ April.
“Yo Stevens! Unlock the handcuffs from your stupid homework and/or my stupid sister and come smoke some fuckin’ zombies with me!”
“It’s like she thinks the game is called Fucking Zombies or something,” April mumbles as she rights herself and gets ready to leave the room.
Sterling doesn’t have the heart to tell her that she doesn’t even know what the game is called, that when they play, she’s not- she’s not watching the game. She’s watching April. She always has been, whether she’s realized it or not.
She does have the heart to follow her into the living room, situate herself on the chair while April and Blair take the couch, and simply watch all the ways her face changes. How her jaw tightens when she’s at a particularly difficult part, then how it relaxes when she passes it. How there’s a huge, playful smile on her face when she accidentally shoots Blair’s character instead of whatever zombie… creature… thing… they’re supposed to be shooting. How she looks over and meets Sterling’s eyes to make sure she’s still watching.
She has the heart to join the family dinner once her mom gets home, everyone sharing anecdotes about their day. Her parents are always particularly interested in how April’s doing. They know she needs the extra attention.
And at the end of the day, she has all of her dang heart to crawl into her bed with April, as their unspoken agreement dictates, give her a small peck on the cheek, and roll over to let her be the big spoon.
But most importantly, with April’s arm draped across her waist, she wonders how much heart it would take to confess her love, or even bolder, to take April’s hand from where it’s splayed across her stomach and move it lower.
Nope. That’s weird. Jesus, Sterling, get a frickin’ grip. These thoughts, God…
She just can’t help herself.