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It had become a game of sorts. Bebe would bring home some new plant that neither of them knew how to look after, and Wendy would take it upon herself to keep it alive (because, Christ, Bebe would kill it within a week if Wendy didn’t intervene). Their small apartment was starting to look jungle-esque, and, so far, only a quarter of them were turning yellow at the leaves.
“You’re getting good at that,” Bebe said in her ear, snaking her arms around Wendy’s waist as she watered their spider plant.
“At watering plants?” Wendy arched a dark eyebrow but leaned into her girlfriend's hold, careful to level out the watering can so she didn’t overwater the plant. Bebe was warm, and Wendy sunk into her, revelling in the comfort she provided. She was constantly in awe at how she’d gotten so lucky. Falling in love with your best friend and having them love you back? Having them actively want to touch and hold you? Wendy was living a charmed life, that was for sure.
“At knowing what they want,” Bebe said, poking her in the ribs. “Like how much water and when. I always get it wrong.”
“You killed your first cactus,” Wendy remembered fondly.
“It blows my mind that I shouldn’t water it daily. Like, what?”
“How much did you give it out of interest?”
“Oh, about half a pint,” Bebe said casually.
“A day?!” Horrified, Wendy pulled free from Bebe’s arms, turning to face her. She missed her arms instantly, but she didn’t think her horror would be conveyed the same way if they were snuggling.
“What? It’s a plant!”
“From the desert!”
“Hush.” Bebe brought a manicured finger to Wendy’s lips, silencing her. Taking advantage of the situation, Wendy kissed its pad, smiling in satisfaction as a blush crept across Bebe’s face at the act. They’d been together a year now, yet they both had a knack for making the other flush with the most mundane gestures. People had told them it was just a honeymoon phase, but it showed no sign of wearing off soon. Wendy was as in love with Bebe now as she had been the day she’d first realised her feelings went beyond that of friendship.
Capturing the hand before it could withdraw, Wendy tugged Bebe closer to her. “I love this colour. What is it?” she asked, running a finger over Bebe’s index nail. Her own were trimmed neatly and unpainted.
“Persephone’s garden.”
“Cute.”
“You’re cute.”
“Don’t be a sap,” Wendy said, but she couldn’t reign in her smile. Bebe had been her best friend since kindergarten, but if you’d asked her at seventeen—just four years ago—if she thought they’d be here, in their own apartment, in love and looking after plants and a cat together, she’d have never imagined it.
At seventeen, she’d thought she’d marry Stan. At seventeen, she hadn’t realised the excitement she felt every time she met up with Bebe was anything more than the joy of spending time with a friend.
It made her laugh now, thinking back on it.
God, she’d thought she knew it all back then but had, in fact, been clueless.
“What do you want for dinner?” Bebe asked, pulling her hands away from Wendy’s so she could reach for her phone.
“Sushi?”
“Oh, yum. Okay, I’ll order in. Shall I just get a random selection?”
“Go for it. Do you mind if I do some programming while we wait?”
“Absolutely. I’ve got some work to do, too. Netflix and cuddles while we eat, though, right?”
“Of course.”
Bebe crashed out with her laptop on the couch, and Wendy went to her desk in the guest room. Their cat, Flowerpotamus (Flower for short), was curled up on the bed, and Wendy took a moment to scratch her ear. Flower yawned, eyes rolling back and then settled down again, burying her face under a paw, effectively dismissing Wendy.
“I love you too, Flower,” Wendy said, though she was entirely unoffended. Unlike Bebe, Flower gave affection rarely and on her own terms. They’d had her five months, and while Wendy had only relented because Bebe had given her puppy-dog eyes, Wendy had to admit she’d become fond of the little shit. She wondered where she’d draw the line with her girlfriend's insistence on filling their small place with things Wendy ended up having to care for. If she were honest, she wasn’t sure she’d ever draw the line. If something made Bebe happy, then it made Wendy happy too.
One of Bebe’s scrunchies (ironically, it had cartoon plants and cats all over it) lay abandoned near the keyboard, so she picked it up, slipping it over her wrist, feeling oddly pathetic that she missed her girlfriend so much. Her girlfriend who was literally in the next room and would hear her if she raised her voice. Her girlfriend, who she had only moments before been talking to. Back in High School, Craig had expressed a similar feeling when it came to Tweek, but, at the time, Wendy hadn’t gotten it. She’d been with Stan back then and couldn’t imagine missing him if they’d last seen each other within twenty-four hours. Hell, she couldn’t imagine missing him after a week apart. She’d told Craig he had separation anxiety, which wasn’t healthy. He’d flipped her off.
Wendy got it now.
It would be weird to message Craig out of the blue and tell him that when they hadn’t spoken in a couple of years, though, right?
Her phone pinged, and for a surprised second, she wondered whether she’d managed to summon him with her thoughts, but no, it was just Bebe.
I miss you xoxoxo
Wendy rolled her eyes like the hypocrite she was. She was beaming as she typed back, though.
I’m literally just in the next room x
That’s too far away xoxoxo
I miss you too xxx
Bebe sent her the gif of that emergency hug with a cartoon pig, and Wendy snorted, hearting the image before putting her phone down. Neither of them would ever get any work done at this rate.
Once she became absorbed, spending the next half an hour concentrating on work was easy. She loved her job and was good at it, but even still, when the doorbell sounded as she was about to get sucked into a particularly tricky bit of code, she jumped to her feet, project instantly forgotten.
Bebe was still on the couch, knowing too well that Wendy could never leave the door unanswered. Wendy took a second to smile at how Bebe had claimed her abandoned cardigan, snuggling into it as she focused on the blog post she was writing. They really were as hopeless as the other.
In a good mood, Wendy tipped generously before closing the door. Bebe had already shut her laptop and opened Netflix. She patted the spot beside her, and Wendy was happy to oblige. She spread their little feast out on the table before them and then curled up against Bebe’s side, content with whatever her girlfriend put on the television because she knew they wouldn’t end up watching it anyway.
“Cute cardigan,” she said as she picked up a bit of sashimi with her chopsticks.
“Thanks. I nicked it from this super-hot girl I know.”
“I’m sure she doesn’t mind.”
Bebe chewed on a bit of sushi and then said, “Nice scrunchie.”
“I also stole from a super-hot girl I know.”
“Funny that there’s two of them in our apartment. Maybe we should introduce them?” Bebe waggled her eyebrows, and Wendy snorted.
“You’re such a dork!”
“You take that back!” Bebe mock gasped, then, before Wendy could say anything, she twisted her head, kissing her. She tasted of spicy tuna and herbal tea, and Wendy leaned into her, glad that they went with sushi so neither of them had to get up to reheat their abandoned meal later when their hunger ultimately won out.
As Bebe pushed her back on the couch, Wendy couldn’t help but think that, if this were the honeymoon phase, she didn’t want it ever to end.
She hoped they were still stealing each other’s clothes, blushing at soft kisses and killing plants together (or, better yet, not killing them) in sixty years.
A charmed life, indeed.