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Marcy was a comforting and welcome weight in her lap. Her legs were settled around her, arms over her shoulders, chin pressed into the fabric of her jacket. The familiar tune of Vagabondia Chronicles met Sasha’s ears, a vibrant melody accompanied by the clacking of buttons. She tapped away, and Sasha typed up message after message on her phone, fingers moving across the screen with rapid precision born of experience. Vince was asking to jam again, and while she would love to rock with someone who didn’t suck as much as the rest of the school, she was a bit busy today. And all the rest of the days this week.
She was a busy girl, what could she say? The Sharps needed to practice for their next garage band concert, and it was Marcy’s first solo composition. It’d be the first song she’d written for her and Anne, and while their blind playing had been good - of course it had - there was still room to play with some of the arrangement and room for improvement. There always was.
Sasha typed up a denial, sending it over to Vince. Maybe they could get together another day. Not soon, though. She swapped apps, vibrant colors of Subway Surfers meeting her as she started a new run. She wasn’t trying to beat her high score this time - though that wouldn’t stop her from getting a higher score - but the grind of coins and tasks was a welcome distraction from her thoughts.
“Hmmmm.” Marcy hummed, vibrations from her throat traveling through the fabric of the jacket, sensation sending a warm buzz through her body. The fact that Marcy was here, sitting with her, against her... It was a nice reminder. The clacks of Marcy’s switch became more fervent, joysticks flicking rapidly in succession. Sasha swiped left, narrowly avoiding a train as she nabbed a pogo stick and spiraled up. Her little character, a custom skin she’d asked Marcy to mod into the game, jumped around, collecting coins like nobody’s business. She was approaching her old high score, as as she did, the excitement ramped up within her.
As she surpassed the hundred thousand mark, she heard Marcy whoop into her shoulder. The clacking stopped, but she was too far into her own world, vision tunneling as she focused. External stimuli deafened besides the comforting weight, reminding her that she wasn’t alone. Approaching one hundred fifty thousand, she let a grin split her face. Her coin run had yielded magnificent results, breaking her previous score by thousands. Her leg twitched, but she kept still. She needed to stay focused. She couldn’t move; not while she was playing. Not while Marcy was in her lap.
Eventually, though, all good things must come to an end. She slipped, two jumps when a jump and a slide would have let her continue, and she was gone. Her score of two-hundred thousand three hundred forty two had broken her record, and though she was bummed she couldn’t get further, the fact that she had gotten that far sent sparks throughout her body. She let out a content sigh, smile across her face not waning, tuning back in to hear Marcy mutter something about boss strategies.
This moment was perfect, honestly. Sitting on her bed with Marcy in her arms, no words needed between them. It was a nice change of pace from the hecticness of school; so many people vying for her attention. Though she didn’t mind it most of the time, sometimes the noise and chaos got to her. Anne and Marcy were her saving graces then, and they were now. Her mother was out of the house, which meant she’d be out for five more hours at least, giving her and Marcy ample time to just.. Spend together.
It didn’t help her current situation though, and she felt her leg twitch again. Her jaw clenched, keeping the feeling locked away, phone held loosely in her hands. Marcy was sitting and in the middle of a game; even if she wanted to… she couldn’t. She wouldn’t disturb her like that.
There had to be something else she could do to keep her attention. Anything else. Her lack of movement must have given something away, though, because minutes later Marcy had paused the game, battle music muffling itself into background noise.
“Sash?” Her foot shook twice, a rapid left right movement that gave her some reprieve, but not enough. “You alright? Did you-” Another twitch, this time from her left leg, and she willed the instinctive stim to stop. Maybe if her mother had been in the house, masking it would be easier, but Marcy was one of her People. Someone she felt comfortable with; someone she didn’t have to mask around or act to any standard with. Sure, it’d taken her some time to learn that, but once she had… “-do you need to stim?” Marcy knew her far too well. Had she been anyone else, Sasha would have pushed her off and away. Had she been anyone else, she probably wouldn’t be in her lap to begin with, but that was an irrelevant detail. “I can get off, if you-”
“No!” A desperate vehemence colored her voice, and her hands clenched the back of Marcy’s hoodie instinctively. She tucked her chin into the crook of her neck, Marcy’s hair brushing against her cheek as she did so. She didn’t need Marcy to move. She didn’t want her to leave; for Marcy to feel like she had to leave just to accommodate her. She should be better than that. Have more self control, have more.. Something. “It’s fine. I’m-”
Marcy pulled away. Sasha stopped herself from pulling her close. Marcy was her own person - Sasha couldn’t force her into her arms; couldn’t force her to stay if she really wanted to leave; couldn’t force her to move away and sit at the edge of the bed because she’d disturbed her; because Marcy wanted to sit somewhere where she could focus instead of in Sasha’s lap because she would move - and Sasha needed to respect that.
She didn’t leave, though. Instead, Marcy set her switch off to the side, splitting the distance between them enough so that Sasha could count her eyelashes; could observe the dark brown light with tangerine stare back at her; could pick out the shine of lip gloss she had applied, even though she and Anne both knew Marcy didn’t normally wear it. She met her eyes, thrum of her pulse suddenly empowered by the base of Marcy’s drum. “Sash.” Marcy’s tone left no room for argument, soft as it was. Sasha sighed. She couldn’t deny her.
“I didn’t want to bother you.” The admittance felt like a defeat, though Sasha knew it wasn’t. She wasn’t losing by being honest with Marcy, but she… she should be better than this! The thought whispered in the back of her mind, forever lingering just under the surface of her conscious. “It’s- dumb. You were comfortable.” She broke eye contact. The poster on the wall was suddenly far more engaging, though a part of her missed the warmth of Marcy’s gaze. “I shouldn’t have… You don’t need to move for me.”
“Sashy,” Marcy breathed softly. “It’s not dumb. It’s a part of you. Stimming is a part of me too! I know you enjoy it when we do it together…” Though her voice trailed off, Sasha knew Marcy was certain of her words. “Plus,” she leaned in, stealing a kiss off Sasha’s cheek. “You could never bother me.”
The words sent another flurry of warmth through her heart, though a treacherous voice whispered that Marcy was lying. She wasn’t. Sasha knew she wasn’t. Her self doubt needed to be quieted. Marcy pulled away further, and Sasha squashed the panic. It was fine. She wasn’t a bother; Marcy had said so. Still, the need for reassurance was strong, and before Marcy could leave completely, she intertwined their hands together. “...You think so?”
Marcy took the action with grace. She took Sasha’s hand between her own, laying a soft kiss to her knuckles. The air around her seemed to shimmer, a vivid vibrance highlighting the tenderness she acted with. “I know so.”
With that, Marcy swung her legs over the edge of the bed, and made her way around, shuffling to take Sasha into her arms. Her chin found Sasha’s shoulder this time, nuzzling into the crook of her neck. She could feel her leg, now with nothing weighing it down or reminding her to stop, shake up and down. It started small at first, but soon both were bouncing up a storm. With each movement, she felt herself relax further into Marcy’s arms, the hold safe and comfortable, tension and overwhelming emotions - both positive and negative - draining out of her. She leaned back, and Marcy leaned forward, and together they sat, content.
It wasn’t long before Marcy began fiddling with the hem of Sasha’s sweater, twisting fabric and scrunching it between her fingers. Sasha broke the silence.
“Do you…” She began, tentatively. “Do you uh, have… any of your fidget stuff in your bag?” Marcy was behind her, but she wouldn’t look back at her. She knew Marcy kept fidget toys in her bag. She knew Marcy took them with her to school. She just… didn’t know how to outright ask for them. Not yet.
Marcy got the memo though, and let go of Sasha. “In the third pouch,” she said, and Sasha could see her hand flapping as she moved over. Inside Marcy’s bag she found a fidget cube, and set on using it. Taking the time to stimulate herself first, Marcy soon joined her, and they sat on the plush area rug on Sasha’s floor.
Her mother wouldn’t be back for a good amount of time.
She could let herself enjoy this.