Work Text:
1. Physical Affection
She's not so great at kissing. That is to say, when she leans in to kiss someone, she usually forgets she's wearing her glasses, and the corner of them ends up digging into someone's cheek, and then Ronnie's hair gets caught in the hinge and he starts whining until Dessie stops laughing and helps them get unstuck.
Well, that's what happens when she kisses Ronnie, anyway. Dessie is usually enough on top of things to head off the glasses issue before or becomes an issue. With Dessie, the problem is that Maggey gets caught up in how beautiful she is, how suave, how laid-back… everything that would take every ounce of effort Maggey has to spare, and it seems to cost Dessie nothing at all. It's overwhelming to have her attention, her manicured hand warm on her thigh, the spark of mischief in her eyes focused on Maggey of all people. So, with Dessie, she freezes, unable to initiate and barely able to reciprocate.
It ends the same way: Ron pouting and Dessie laughing as she gets things back on track for everyone.
2. Acts of service
Ideally, Maggey would like to cook for her partners. She's tried! Over and over, in fact. She's gone down a list of each of their favorite dishes, hoping she will find that she excels at making one of them, just one. To date, she has:
- Burned pasta
- Turned rice to mush
- Served burgers that were burnt on the outside and raw on the inside
- Broken the enchilada dish
- Produced baked chicken of such a strange color that even the stray behind their place wouldn't touch it
After the chicken mishap, she'd switched to ordering carryout, but even that was short-lived; inevitably, when she is the one who places the order, something turns out wrong. From missing entrees to accidental extra-spicy soup, they've had just about every bad experience possible.
Cleaning isn't much better. She's just as likely to make a bigger mess as she is to get a surface clean, and Ronnie made her promise to stop after the time he came home to find her having trouble breathing after an unwitting chemical reaction. He'd hovered around her for days after, tending to every little need in a way that was nice at first but eventually just made her jealous that he could do things like rub her feet and fluff her pillow and blow on her (appropriately spicy) soup without incident.
3. Gifts
She tries giving gifts exactly once, very early on. It almost goes well – Ronnie adores the new coat she patched together for him, and Dessie is pleased with the high-quality gloves she chose.
It's just that, later that night, Ron approaches her nervously. "I was going to get her those."
"Oh. Oh no, I'm sorry, I should have checked with you," she fusses.
"Well, really, it's… buying her things is kind of… my thing," Ron explains, biting his lip and messing with his hair.
"O… oh. That's fine! It's fine." For a terrible moment or two, she's sure that she crossed a boundary, that they're going to decide she's not worth keeping around. She's had a hard time understanding why they're keeping her around in the first place, anyway.
"But, actually," Ron goes on, "you picked a better color than I would have. Maybe, from now on, we could… pick out Dessie's gifts together? If that's OK? I wouldn't want to assume that you'd want to do that with meeee but Dessie always says there's no harm in asking and –"
"I'd really like that!" Maggey says, cutting him off. It's still a novelty, being asked to do things together. Especially with Ron. He's so sweet, and very funny, but he sometimes seems a little afraid of her.
That's fair, given that she came into their lives by falling into their laps – literally, tripped and landed right across them both. Dessie had been delighted, instantly making jokes in a way that put Maggey at ease rather than making her feel worse about having spilled their drinks all over them. Some waitress she'd been. Working at the shop with Dessie has been worlds better.
"I think that would be really nice," she repeats firmly.
Ronnie smiles back, that beaming grin he always gets when he's talking about Dessie. They even manage a long, comfortable hug without anyone crying or getting hurt, and it's only once they safely separate that Maggey lets herself realize that that smile had been for her.
4. Quality Time
Maggey's gotten pretty good reading their moods lately, which thrills her and terrifies her all at once. Well, Ron's an open book, and all of his moods are big enough to be seen from space, so maybe that's not much of an accomplishment.
Dessie, though. She's a different story, a book that doesn't match its cover. Maggey is gradually learning which clients to intercept with coffee and hospitality and which ones are allowed to stride through to the garage floor. She's also starting to pick up on the difference between Dessie's sighs: sometimes it's a wistful sound, like she's looking forward to something and wishes she could speed up time; sometimes it's tired, when she aches from spending the day bent over a stubborn machine; sometimes it's exasperated, which means she needs a change of pace.
On one such day, something clicks for Maggey upon hearing the heavy exhale. She navigates into the scheduling software and blocks off the afternoon, and then she tiptoes out to the floor. "Wanna get outta here?" she asks, turning the tables. It's what Dessie asks every evening, and it makes Maggey blush each time she hears it.
"Whoo! I wish, but it's only two, Magpie."
Maggey takes a deep breath to fortify herself. "It is only two. But! There's no one else on the schedule, and Tuesdays are so always slow. You can't do anything with Mr. Jin's truck until the gasket comes in, and Ms. Davidson won't be back in town until Thursday to pick up her bike. So – so you should take the afternoon off."
Dessie smiles, slow and inviting. "You're really on top of things around here, Magpie. Don't know what I ever did without you. Tell you what – let's take the afternoon. You're right."
"Ah – oh, no, I can stay here and… and… "
"And watch the closed door stay closed? Come on. Time for a spa day. My treat."
"A… a what?" Maggey squeaks.
Dessie treats her to things she's never even considered doing, like a massage and a mani-pedi and a dinner with just the two of them at someplace way, way fancier than Maggey would dare to go. It's fun, genuinely fun, and Dessie seems glad for the company. For her company.
"You know," she says uncertainly, fiddling with a wine glass with a stem so fine she wouldn't have let herself touch it just months ago, "I think maybe some of your luck is starting to rub off on me."
"Could be," Dessie concedes, teasing. Maggey watches her throat work as she tips her head back and drains her own glass. "But if I had to guess, it has nothing to do with luck."
Does that mean her luck is still bad? Her fingers tighten reflexively, but the glass still doesn't break. "You don't think so?"
"Nope," she replies, popping the 'p' at the end. "It's plain and simple confidence, Magpie. You let us trust you, and now you're starting to trust yourself. Now, should we end poor Ronnie's torment? He must miss us by now." She says us so instinctively, so easily, that Maggey hardly even remembers that it was once just Desirée and Ron.
She sniffs, a little overcome. That's what she gets for indulging in half a glass of wine.
"Aw, what's the matter, dove?"
"I just – I've never been an 'us' before. It's still hard to believe."
"Well, you'd best start believing it, because I don't see it changing anytime soon. Come on, now. Let's go home and see what else might rub off on you."
"Dessie!" she hisses, red as the tablecloth. It's almost a relief when she knocks over her silverware while getting up, like a reminder that she's still herself.
5. Words of affirmation
Maggey Byrde might not be talented at much, but she is singularly accomplished at giving encouragement. All those years of telling herself to meet each day head-on, to take each loss as a chance to improve, have at least amounted to something.
And no one on the face of the earth has ever needed as much encouragement as Ron DeLite. He soaks it up like a sponge, or perhaps it runs through him like a sieve – either way, he is always left wanting more.
"You can do it, Ronnie, I promise!" she cheers, watching him tackle the final boss in the game he's been playing. She's sitting cross-legged beside him on the couch, arms tucked tight against her chest.
It's a safety measure, because whether a game actually uses motion controls has no bearing on the way Ron holds his controller. That is to say, his limbs are everywhere, arms flailing from side to side, feet kicking out like he can use them to keep the boss away from his character.
It's simultaneously one of the cutest and most pathetic things Maggey has ever witnessed.
His tongue is peeking out from between his teeth as he twists the controller sharply, body careening sideways. (The game he is playing does not use motion controls).
"You're almost there! One more …round," Maggey sighs, watching the poor little player character land squarely in the stream of fire being belched by the boss.
Ronnie wails, but it's a short complaint; he drops the controller, crosses his arms, and lets himself fall heavily into Maggey's lap.
She starts petting his hair immediately, smoothing it back down from his earlier tense hair-pulling. "Hey, but you did really well! That's the furthest you've gotten, and you almost beat the boss on the first try."
"Hmm," Ronnie replies, sounding unconvinced.
"No, seriously, you're so good at seeing patterns! Next time I bet you won't have any trouble at all. You'll get it just right," she assures him, abandoning his hair to smack her fist against her palm. "And your reflexes have gotten really good too! You really know how to time the jumps."
Finally, he starts to preen a little under her attention. "You really think so?"
"No doubt about it!"
"Maybe I could try it again… if you really think I'm ready."
"You're so ready," Maggey says fiercely. "You've got this. You get better every time you try, and there's no room left to get better except to win."
Filled with determination, he sits back up and reaches for the controller.
When he wins the game one grueling boss rush later, she kisses him soundly and without incident, because gaming skis aren't the only thing they've been improving. Dessie still laughs at them when she walks in, but that just makes it perfect.