Work Text:
Prim’s apartment is strikingly familiar to the apartment her and Bambi had shared when they dated; Bambi takes quick glances around the room as Prim gently wipes the rain off from Bambi’s shoulders. It’s unsurprising—Bambi had given Prim free rein of the furnishing, decor, arrangement, style of their shared apartment. She hadn’t really cared for how it looked.
The posters hung up on the wall of the guest bedroom are the exact same ones that had been scattered throughout their own home: stills from films Prim adores. Bambi can’t recall their names.
“Did you run here in the rain?” Prim comments, lighthearted.
“I—” Thunder erupts then, interrupting Bambi. She takes the opportunity to deliberately shrink into herself, and scoot closer into Prim’s warmth. Her heart swells a little when Prim grips her arms in an attempt to comfort her, albeit tentatively.
She’s made the right decision, coming here.
“I broke up with my girlfriend, and she—” Bambi winces. “Kicked me out. I didn’t know where else to go, and you said if I ever needed anything…”
Prim hesitates then, before nodding. “You can crash here in the meantime.”
“Thank you,” Bambi says, genuinely. “I’ll get out of your hair as soon as I can.”
“Don’t worry about it, Bambi,” Prim's voice softens as she moves to take care of Bambi’s hair. “It’s no trouble at all.”
-
An undeniable truth of the world: Prim is too good for Bambi.
It’d been true when they were dating; Bambi had only agreed to date her because she liked the way Prim looked at her, like she’d hung all the stars in the sky. Bambi knows, knows she was overly careless with their relationship, knows it’d been her fault entirely. Most of her breakups were, anyway.
There was a certainty that Prim provided. A doubtlessness in her love, that Bambi just couldn’t handle.
Boring, she’d called Prim, the night they broke up. Overbearing. Tying me down.
Prim was good to her after the breakup as well, never holding anything against her. She never made Bambi feel uncomfortable, and still greeted her happy birthday every year following the breakup.
And now, Bambi’s living in Prim’s house, rent-free, indefinitely, despite them having nothing more than just a friendly relationship—if you could even call what they had between them an actual relationship. The last proper conversation Bambi had with Prim was when they’d broken up, all those years ago.
Prim was, is, and will likely always be too good for Bambi.
So, Bambi does feel some semblance of shame, for the jealousy stirring within her at the sight of that girl—Gorda? Gourma? Borya?—standing so close to Prim. They’re at Prim’s company building; Prim had to clock in because of a deadline. Bambi’s just here because she’s bored, and Prim told her she could follow.
It’s not any less boring here in the building than it is back at Prim’s apartment, but it’s arguably worse, because now she has to watch as Gourma huddles closer than necessary into Prim’s side, and grabs Prim’s hand to point at something on the tablet screen.
Bambi rolls her eyes, and wanders off elsewhere.
It’s later, when they’re back home, that Bambi slips in the question.
“Are you and that girl… Borya, seeing each other?”
Prim’s head is buried into her laptop, and she absentmindedly corrects Bambi. “Her name’s Gorya.”
Bambi’s stomach twists, and she resists the urge to scoff. It takes a second, two, before Prim’s head shoots up from her laptop, only just processing what Bambi had asked. “Me and Gorya?”
Bambi nods.
“We—we’re not dating,’ Prim says, tentative. Bambi only raises her eyebrow, questioningly.
“It’s not so straightforward,” she continues. She pauses, glancing up at Bambi, before shifting her eyes back to her laptop screen. “We haven’t made anything official because we’re working together. The project we’re working on is important, and I didn’t want to complicate things.”
“But making out with her doesn’t complicate things?” Bambi blurts, unable to help herself. The image of them kissing is seared at the back of her mind, Prim’s arms placed firmly at either side of Gorda—Gorya’s thighs, the way Gorya had slung her arms around Prim’s neck. It leaves a bitter taste in Bambi’s mouth.
Prim looks at her sharply then, and her voice is curt when she utters her name, “Bambi.”
Bambi stiffens, and something uncomfortable clenches in her gut as she feels Prim’s hard glare directed towards her. She’s not used to this, being at the receiving end of Prim’s coldness.
“She seems nice,” Bambi mumbles, placatingly. Prim’s already turned back to her laptop, wholly uninterested in continuing the conversation.
-
Bambi tries finding footing in Prim’s new life.
It’s been several years since she’s even seen Prim, much less lived together. Some things remain unchanged in the years they’ve been apart—Prim still wakes up disgustingly early. It’s earlier now that she’s a prominent director; usually 6am, and 6.30am at the latest.
Bambi finds, frustratingly, that she rises with Prim, unable to go back to sleep with the sounds of Prim padding across the apartment, rustling through the bathroom and the kitchen as she goes through her morning routine. It’s scarily reminiscent of their habits from when they used to be together.
Bambi gives up trying to fall back asleep, and more often than not, she joins Prim in the kitchen. They eat breakfast together quietly, before Prim leaves for work.
At work, Prim’s a whole new person.
Bambi’s not used to this new layer of confidence that Prim seems to wear as a second skin—she’s long outgrown that nervousness that used to be all-consuming for her, and she’s lost that over-eagerness to please everyone around her. Prim’s voice carries through any set she’s in, and Bambi watches in awe as every person in the room seems to straighten up to listen.
“Impressive, isn’t it?” Gorya stands beside Bambi, watching Prim as she strides across the set to speak to one of the models.
Bambi tenses. “Yeah,” she replies, keeping her tone short.
Here’s another thing Bambi’s learning about Prim—she doesn’t like when Bambi talks about Gorya, or talks to Gorya. Bambi doesn’t blame her; she only ever mentions Gorya when she wants to rile Prim up, so it’s no surprise that Prim gets irritated when Bambi brings Gorya up.
She’s growing to be familiar with the cold way Prim looks at her at the mention of Gorya’s name. It’s the same way Prim’s looking at her now, from across the set, wary and suspicious at Bambi’s proximity with Gorya. Bambi sighs, stepping away from her to bother someone else.
But outside of that, outside of Gorya, outside of work, it’s startlingly easy to fall back into old habits with Prim. Prim asks her every morning, in that smooth, gentle tone of hers, “What will you be doing today?”
She offers to drive Bambi to her company, entertains her when Bambi has questions about whatever project Prim is working on, or wants to help out. She’s kind, and sweet, and despite being hesitant about their arrangement, she tries her best to cater to Bambi.
“I have to go to the countryside to scout a location for a shoot today,” Prim tells her. “Would you like to follow me?”
Bambi agrees, and she’s whisked away into Prim’s car. The drive is long, but pleasant—they swap stories about the things they’ve missed out on in the past few years. Bambi’s careful not to mention her numerous flings, Prim’s intent on pretending her relationship with Gorya doesn’t exist.
By the time they reach the location—a gorgeous private beach—the sun’s dipping into the horizon, painting the skies gorgeous hues of orange and pink. Bambi explores the beach first, too impatient to wait on Prim, who has to get equipment out from her trunk.
The beach is completely empty, and the waves lull Bambi into a false sense of calm. She settles down right by the ocean, and shuts her eyes, letting the waves kiss the ends of her feet.
Prim joins her a while later, plopping down by her side and pressing a cold drink to Bambi’s face, startling her.
“Hey,” she yelps, flinching away from the drink.
“There was a smoothie store nearby. I got you a mango smoothie, just how you like it,” Prim looks pleased with herself. “You—you still like mango right?”
Bambi’s heart skips, Prim looks so earnest, and a lot younger. It’s almost like—
“Yeah,” she croaks, surprised. “Yeah. My preferences haven’t changed.”
Prim blinks, relieved, and passes the drink to her. “That’s good.”
And Bambi realises, suddenly, why she’d come to Prim out of all her exes, to ask for help. There’s that rush of warmth that returns to her, something she hasn’t felt in the years she was apart from Prim. Bambi thinks, knows that the longer she stays in Prim’s orbit, the harder it’ll be to leave.
-
Bambi leafs through one of the many photobooks lining the shelves in Prim’s living room. In a typical Prim fashion, the photobooks are organised neatly, with an obvious recurring theme for each book.
The one she’s holding is a little abstract, in the sense that she can’t immediately discern what the theme is. It has a lot of heart—grandmothers clustered together while peeling fruit, a boy running along the pavement—his knees littered with bruises, a couple sitting side by side on the beach, their backs turned away from the camera.
She flips through the book carefully—it’s been a long while since she’s been privy to Prim’s work.
When she gets to the last page of the book, she startles, nearly dropping the whole book onto the floor. Plastered there is a picture of Bambi herself, in the middle of a crowd, looking over her shoulder and smiling brightly at the camera—at Prim.
Memories from that day flood her almost immediately. A band Bambi liked was playing a city away from her university, and Bambi desperately wanted to go. Prim had surprised her with train tickets. They’d skipped a day’s worth of classes to catch the show, and Prim had captured most of their trip on film.
The photo in question was taken right in the midst of the concert. Bambi remembers the songs, and the crowd of people dancing around her. She remembers the sweat drenching her shirt as she jumped along to the music.
She remembers—right after the photo had been taken—laughing at Prim, and pushing her camera aside to yank Prim into her arms. She remembers telling Prim breathlessly, “Don’t hide behind your camera. Dance with me,” right into her ear, over all the noise.
“Do you like it?” Prim asks, pulling Bambi back to the present. “The photos.”
Bambi takes a second to recover, glancing at the picture of herself, before meeting Prim’s eyes. Prim looks— nervous? “Of course,” she nods, certain. “I’ve always liked your work.”
“I hope it’s alright, that I printed out your photo,” Prim says, shifting her weight from one foot to another. “It fit the theme, and I never thought—” she cuts herself off, but the rest of the sentence is implied. I never thought you’d be around to see it.
“It’s fine,” Bambi waves her hand. “They’re your photos.”
“I know, but—”
“Prim,” Bambi reassures. “It's really alright.” She thumbs the photo, so neatly placed on the page, perfectly straight and centred. “They were your memories as much as they were mine. It was a good day.”
Bambi watches curiously as Prim straightens up, almost imperceptibly. It’s the first time they’ve broached the topic of their shared history so upfront.
“Yeah,” Prim agrees. “We had a lot of fun back then. I—I’m glad you’re here, Bambi. It’s nice that we can still be friends even after everything.”
Bambi frowns. Prim’s already turned away, shrugging on her signature leather jacket, and pulling her feet into her boots. “I’m going off now. Are you dropping by the company later?”
“No,” Bambi shakes her head. She grips the photobook closer to her chest. “I think I’d rather stay here today.”
-
An opportunity presents itself in the form of a tall, dark-haired, arrogant model: Shasha is entertaining, at the very least.
Bambi lets Shasha get close to her, lets her place her hands on Bambi’s waist. The music shifts to a slower, jazzier song, and Bambi slings her arms around Shasha’s neck, tugging her closer.
“What’s your name?” Shasha asks, slowly leading them through the crowd of people, right into the centre of the dancefloor. “I’ve seen you around the company building but I don’t think we’ve been formally introduced.”
“Bambi.” They sway to the beat mindlessly, and Shasha gives her a charming smile.
“Bambi. It’s pretty,” Shasha moves to whisper into her ear as the music gets louder. “Will I be seeing you around more often, Bambi?”
Bambi feels slightly tipsy, but she manages to keep a watchful eye on the glowering figure in the corner of the club.
“Probably,” she offers halfheartedly. She moves a little closer to Shasha, before glancing to check Prim’s reaction. She can just barely make out Prim’s mouth shifting into a hard line. Bambi grins, satisfied. “I have a bit of time on my hands, and experience with design, so I thought I’d help Prim out a little.”
“That’s good,” Shasha hums. “I have a feeling things will be way more fun with you around.”
“Hm,” Bambi giggles, playing up her pitch. “Everyone else in the company’s a bore?”
“Something like that,” Shasha tugs her aside, away from the crowd. “Do you want another drink?”
They take a seat by the bar. When Bambi looks back to the corner Prim’s sulking at, she finds that Prim’s already looking at her. Bambi wants to mouth an apology to her, for ditching her when she’d been the one to invite Prim out, but then she hears Prim’s voice saying We’re friends, and she scraps the idea.
Instead, she turns to Shasha. “No, but I am craving something else,” Bambi lowers her voice, and glances at Shasha’s lips before meeting her eyes. That familiar look of desire clouds Shasha’s gaze.
Bambi closes her eyes and leans in, letting Shasha kiss her eagerly. If anything, at least Shasha’s not a bad kisser—Shasha tugs Bambi in by the waist, impatient as she rushes to deepen the kiss.
A beat longer, before Bambi pulls away, grinning at the sight of Shasha flushed and breathless. Predictably, Shasha moves to cup Bambi’s face in an attempt to kiss her again. Bambi steps out of her reach, tutting lightly.
“Take me out on a date first, and maybe I’ll consider giving you a second kiss.”
Shasha whines, and tries again, but Bambi pushes her aside, laughing. She glances back to the spot Prim’s standing at—Prim’s already left.
-
“Want me to do something that’ll really piss Prim off?” Shasha says from behind.
Bambi jumps, surprised. She hadn’t noticed Shasha walking towards her; her eyes have been glued to Prim for the last 20 minutes.
They’re on set for another advertisement shoot, and Bambi had offered to help with some props for the shoot. She’s not being very helpful though, because Gorya has been fluttering around Prim right from the beginning of the shoot, and Prim lets her even though Bambi knows being disrupted while working is a pet peeve of Prim’s. Why Prim gives concession to Gorya is beyond her.
Bambi peels her eyes away from Prim to look at Shasha questioningly.
“Well? We’ve been working together for a while. I think I know exactly how to push a few of her buttons.”
“What—what do you mean?” Bambi asks, a little stunned.
“You don’t need to act coy,” Shasha laughs. She slings an arm across Bambi’s shoulder, pulling her closer in that overly-familiar way that Bambi’s learning to be in Shasha’s nature. “I know you’re only with me to make Prim jealous. I’m asking if you want some help with that.”
“How—”
“I can tell when a girl’s not into me. Plus, you’ve been painting the same spot for the last 5 minutes because you’re so distracted looking at her.” Bambi flushes, glancing down at the half painted board she’d meant to turn in 20 minutes ago.
“I’m not apologising, if that’s what you’re expecting,” Bambi huffs.
That only seems to make Shasha’s grin grow wider. “I know. I’m not mad about it.” She tugs Bambi closer, moving to take the board out of Bambi’s hands. She shifts it so that the board conveniently blocks their faces from Prim’s line of sight. “We can have fun with it, pissing Prim off. I think she deserves it, for how hard she is on me on set.”
As if on queue, Bambi hears the telltale click of Prim’s heels, and the board is yanked unceremoniously away from them. Their faces are close enough that it’s suspicious, and the way Bambi instinctively pulls away from Shasha doesn’t help either.
Prim’s jaw tightens. “Shasha, you were meant to go for fitting an hour ago.”
“Sorry, director,” Shasha straightens up, purposely adjusting her dishevelled shirt. “Traffic was bad. I’ll go now.”
Prim grips Shasha’s arm, forcing her to stay in place. “You’re allowed all the frivolous dalliances you want,” Prim’s voice is low, measured, “but keep them off my set.”
Prim releases her then, and Shasha turns to leave, but not before sending a wink to Bambi.
“I need those boards soon,” Prim barely glances Bambi’s way as she walks off. To anyone else, the interaction between them might’ve been trivial, but Bambi sees the tension knotted deep in Prim’s shoulders—Shasha’s plan works.
-
Bambi sits by the vanity, carefully applying pink lipstick. She notices Prim standing by the doorway through the mirror, and glances at her questioningly.
“Date night?” Prim asks, trying to keep her voice light.
“Yup,” Bambi replies, popping her lipstick close. She takes one last look at herself in the mirror, intentionally running her hands through her hair, and straightening her dress. Prim eyes her the entire time, her back stiff as a board.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” Prim says. Bambi smiles.
“I do,” she reassures, standing up and walking past her. “Don’t wait up for me. I’ll probably be home late.”
-
A particularly strong gust of wind whips the rain right past the shelter and into the few people waiting at the bus stop. Bambi shivers in her skin-tight dress, cursing Shasha out in her head for ditching her. She’d promised to send Bambi home, but after one too many drinks, it became obvious that that was out of the question.
Bambi considers her options; it’s far too late for any of the public buses to run, and the rain makes it impossible for her to walk. She’d scrolled through three ride-hailing apps and balked at the prices—there’s no way she’d pay that much for a ride that short. She’s halfway to reaching for her phone to call the only person she knows would pick up, but a sleek black sedan rolls up to the bus stop, and Bambi already knows she’s being rescued.
She reaches for the car door, pulling it open to find a concerned Prim staring back at her. Bambi mumbles an apology and settles into the seat, letting Prim drive off. The ride is unnervingly quiet, and Bambi knows without looking that Prim is upset with her.
She hesitates, before breaking the silence. “How’d you find me?”
“Shasha,” Prim says, in lieu of an actual explanation. “You—”
“I don’t really want to be chided right now,” Bambi interrupts, already anticipating the lecture she’d receive.
“I’m not—Bambi…” Prim pinches the bridge of her nose, frustrated.
It’s then that Bambi starts shivering; the combination of her drenched dress with the AC blasting cool air right into her face makes it unbearably cold. Prim softens at the sight of her. She uses one hand to grab a towel from the backseat—the car resting at a stoplight—and tosses it onto Bambi’s lap. Prim’s voice is still uncharacteristically harsh when she tells Bambi, “Dry yourself.”
Bambi does so, wordlessly. She hadn’t realised her teeth had been chattering. She catches a glimpse of herself in the rearview mirror, and hates how small she looks. They go on in silence—it seems like Bambi’s state is so pathetic that Prim’s decided to spare her the lecture. Prim drives the near-deserted roads, tapping the wheel with her finger impatiently. She’s frustrated.
Bambi turns away, choosing instead to scroll through her phone. She frowns when she sees several messages from Shasha.
[plan b]: sent prim ur way
[plan b]: ur welcome
[my deer]: fuck u
[my deer]: dont write this off as u doing me a favour 😒
[plan b]: are u or are u not in her car right now
[my deer]: are u or are u not fucking plastered
Bambi turns her phone off, and chances a glance at Prim. Her shoulders are stiff, and it’s clear she has something to say.
“Did Shasha tell you how she’s getting home?” Bambi tries.
It lands; Prim stiffens, jaw tensing ever so slightly. “Is that what you’re worried about right now?”
“She’s my girlfriend,” Bambi states, watching as Prim grips the steering wheel tighter.
“She’s not mine,” Prim scoffs. “Why the hell would she tell me how she’s getting home?”
Prim looks straight ahead, her eyes firmly on the road. “She wasn’t even with you. You were alone at the bus stop.” She pauses, worry lines creasing her brows. “You’re lucky I was awake when Shasha texted me. What would you have done if I wasn’t here to pick you up?”
“I didn’t think Shasha would get so drunk that she couldn’t send me home,” Bambi retorts, a sense of injustice flaring within her. “How is it my fault that I couldn’t predict that?”
Prim’s silent—she knows when she’s being unfair. It takes a second, before she concedes. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” Prim huffs. “I’m just worried about you. Shasha—she’s bad news.”
“It’s fine,” Bambi waves it off. “I can handle her.”
“I just want what’s best for you,” Prim insists. That makes Bambi pause. She turns away, jaw clenched.
“You know what’s best for me,” she says. They’re silent for the rest of the ride.
-
([my deer]: you do have a way to get home right?
[plan b]: aww is somebody worried about me
[plan b]: if u keep this up i might think ure dating me cz u actl want me fr
[my deer]: shasha.
[plan b]: [image attached]
The photo pictures Shasha, clearly drunk out of her mind, with her arm around an irritated but sober looking Praew.
[plan b]: dw. my ride home
Bambi sighs, and shuts her phone, finally feeling comfortable enough to sleep.)
-
The car ride seems to have shifted something within Prim. She’s colder towards Shasha during shoots, if that was even physically possible. Her tone is clipped and short when she gives Shasha instructions, and she keeps Shasha on set for an endless number of reshoots.
“Dude, she’s totally mad at me,” Shasha grumbles. “This is somehow ten times worse than before.”
“Don’t call me dude,” Bambi rolls her eyes. She adjusts Shasha’s jacket, and gives it a once over. “Why am I helping you with this? Shouldn’t Gorya be doing this for you?”
“It’s the least you could do,” Shasha deadpans, eyeing Prim before facing Bambi. “Prim’s still pissed off that I ditched you.”
Bambi admits she feels a little bad for Shasha. It’s uncharacteristic of Prim to be this unprofessional, taking her feelings out on Shasha during work. But another part of her is thrilled, as she watches Prim stalk over to them.
“She’s coming,” Shasha groans. “Kiss for good luck?” she puckers her lips, fluttering her eyes shut.
Bambi sighs, pushing her towards Prim’s direction. “Don’t do anything to piss her off more. You’ll be fine.”
It goes on for several days. Prim seems to know exactly where Shasha is at all times, and swoops in almost instantly whenever Shasha and Bambi are alone. It’s amusing to watch; Prim may not be saying anything to either of them directly, but her feelings are written all over her actions.
Bambi knows she just needs to give Prim a little push, so she flirts a little more openly with Shasha, and lets Shasha drape all over her during breaks in a disgusting show of PDA that she’s not entirely used to.
The tipping point comes unexpectedly—Bambi’s busy helping the crew set up some props for a shoot. In the corner of her eye, she spots Shasha talking to Gorya. Their faces are uncomfortably close together, and Shasha whispers something into Gorya’s ear that makes the other girl flush bright red.
Bambi turns away; leave it to Shasha to find entertainment even in the midst of an important shoot.
Later, when the shoot wraps up, Prim grabs Bambi by the arm, catching her by surprise.
“Can we talk?” Prim asks. She leads Bambi through the set, into a quieter hallway.
“What is it?” Bambi leans against the lockers, wearing a facade of nonchalance. Prim’s had that frustrated look painted on her face ever since the car ride; Bambi desperately wants to wipe it off.
“I’ve been seeing Shasha and Gorya getting really handsy on set,” Prim starts, and she glances at Bambi, as if trying to gauge her reaction. “I think they’ve been flirting.”
“So? Shasha’s like that,” Bambi dismisses. “It’s not like they’re making out on set or something right?”
Prim’s brow furrows, and she looks confused. “You—Bambi. Do you even like her?”
“Does it matter?” Bambi scoffs. “Didn’t you say I should get a girlfriend?”
Prim’s face morphs into something reminiscent of the night Bambi broke up with her; she frowns, lips downturned. Her shoulders droop inwards, as if all the fight’s been knocked out of her. “I just want you to be happy,” she admits, quietly—a rare show of honesty from Prim, for what seems to be the first time since they reunited.
Bambi quickly pulls Prim forward, pressing her body against her. It’s the way that Prim doesn’t resist, lets Bambi pull her closer, that Bambi knows she’s won. “What if you’re the only one who can make me happy?”
She doesn’t give Prim a chance to respond before finally, finally closing the gap between them and pressing her lips against Prim’s. Prim responds instantly, her hands moving from the locker down to Bambi’s hips.
The desire that’s been building at the pit of her stomach consumes Bambi completely as she sucks on Prim’s lower lip desperately. Prim only pulls away to pepper kisses onto Bambi’s neck. Soft lips capture skin at the base of Bambi’s neck, and she melts further into Prim’s roving hands—they’re brushing along Bambi’s back in that addictingly familiar way.
“Baby,” Bambi chokes, humming with pleasure when she feels Prim tug her closer.
The word is enough to pull Prim out of her stupor; she freezes immediately, staring at Bambi, a little dazed. Bambi huffs in frustration, pulling Prim’s head back down. She surges forward to press a hungry kiss into Prim’s mouth.
Prim turns her head, so the kiss lands squarely on her cheek.
“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Prim mumbles, as if sudden clarity had hit her. “You’re with Shasha…”
“I—what?” Bambi blinks, incredulous.
Prim shakes her head, and untangles herself from Bambi. She looks guilty, her lipstick smeared, and her shirt unkempt as she steps away from Bambi. She mumbles, “Sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking,” before walking off, refusing to meet Bambi’s eyes.
Bambi’s left alone in the hallway, heart still thudding hard and fast in her chest from the brief makeout session. She slams her fist against the locker, frustrated. “Fuck.”
-
Prim manages to remain elusive in the following days, barely saying a word to Bambi, and only addressing her when absolutely necessary. There’s only one way Bambi knows how to fix this. She’s so, so close to getting what she wants.
She tries calling up Shasha, who conveniently has an overseas shoot during the one week Bambi needs to speak to her. She doesn’t feel right breaking up with her through text, so Bambi waits impatiently for Shasha to return to work.
The day Shasha returns, Bambi corners her.
“Ah, no,” Bambi pushes a hand against Shasha’s chest, stepping back before she could land a kiss on Bambi’s cheek. “Sorry, I wanted to talk to you because I want to call this off.”
“Wow,” Shasha laughs. “Straight to the point.”
“I need to sort things out with Prim, and our relationship is making it messy,” Bambi states. She hesitates, before admitting, “I kissed her last week, after I visited the company.”
“No worries,” Shasha waves a hand, nonchalant. “I made out with Gorya at a party a while ago. It’s been a whole thing.”
Bambi stares at her, slightly disbelieving. “You’re with Gorya?”
“Not yet. Soon,” Shasha nods, her tone mock-serious. Bambi blinks again, before smacking Shasha’s shoulder in irritation.
“You should’ve told me,” she hisses. “At least have some shame.”
“Sweetheart,” Shasha coos, amused. “We both know this was a mutually beneficial relationship. You used me to get Prim jealous, and I used you because you’re hot and this was fun. Don’t make it a bigger deal than it is.”
Bambi huffs, unable to retort, because it was true. Shasha owed her nothing, especially not the respect she thought she deserved considering Bambi did use her.
“Whatever,” Bambi mumbles, annoyed.
“You got what you wanted then? From Prim?”
“I think so,” she nods. “At least, after we break up, I think things will work out.”
Shasha grins at her, genuine. “I’m glad.”
Bambi pauses, before quietly muttering, “Thank you.”
“Hm? What was that?”
“I said thank you,” Bambi repeats, a little louder, huffing when she sees Shasha smile cheekily at her.
“Of course, Princess,” Shasha steps closer, teasingly reaching out as if to cup Bambi’s face as she says, “Shall we kiss one last time? For old times’ sake?”
Bambi rolls her eyes, shoving Shasha lightly and stepping out of her reach. “Why don’t you ask Gorya instead?” She shakes her head, exasperated, and walks off.
There’s only one person she wants a kiss from, and Bambi knows exactly where she is.
-
Prim is seated in her home office by her desk, her head in her hands. She’s wearing those thick black frames Bambi absolutely adores, the ones she only wears at home. Bambi strides in, watching in amusement as Prim startles up, confused.
Bambi pushes the swivel chair back, and settles comfortably onto Prim’s lap, straddling her. She eyes the way a red flush spreads across Prim’s cheeks.
“I—” Prim stutters.
“I broke up with Shasha,” Bambi tells her while slowly wrapping her arms around Prim’s neck. “Shall we finish where we left off?”
Prim blinks up at her, half dazed. Bambi feels a thrill run up her spine—in spite of all Prim’s attempts at pushing her away, it seems like Bambi’s effect on her hasn’t dulled at all. It takes a second for Prim to recalibrate as she processes what Bambi said.
“Wait. What do you mean you broke up with Shasha—” Bambi takes advantage of Prim’s disorientation to grind into Prim’s lap, and trail hungry kisses along Prim’s jawline. The rest of Prim’s words die in her throat.
Bambi pulls away briefly to observe her handiwork. Prim’s eyes are glazed over with desire, and her hands are firmly wrapped around Bambi’s waist, despite the confusion furrowed between her brow.
Bambi giggles, and moves to whisper quietly into Prim’s ear, “Do you really want to keep asking questions? Because I’d much prefer you use your mouth to do something else.”
And Prim—for all her resolve and self-control—has never been able to resist Bambi, when Bambi truly asks something of her. Prim’s eyes darken and she kisses Bambi back, finally obliging.
-
Later into the night, Prim stares up at the ceiling, disbelieving. Bambi’s wrapped herself against Prim, humming contentedly.
“What did we just do?” Prim mumbles. Bambi frowns.
“I wasn’t lying when I said I broke up with Shasha,” she says, in an attempt to reassure her. Prim turns to her side to face her, the creases in her forehead ever present. Bambi reaches to smoothen them out.
“So this was just—some kind of rebound sex?” Prim’s voice wavers, and Bambi hates that she’s made Prim more confused.
“No,” Bambi says immediately. “I broke up with her because of you. Prim—I want you. I’ve always wanted you.”
Prim pulls a little further away from Bambi, the movement is so minute that anyone else would’ve missed it. Bambi doesn’t.
She scoots closer to Prim, searching for her hands beneath the covers. “I meant it, what I said earlier. I think you’re the only one who can make me happy.” Bambi scans Prim’s face, and finds only uncertainty staring back at her. “Don’t you want me too?” Her voice comes out smaller.
“Of course,” Prim scrambles to answer. “Bambi—of course I want you. I just—”
“Then let’s try again,” Bambi pleads. “I’ll treat you better than before. I promise.”
Prim has to tear her eyes away from Bambi, hesitating. “I don’t know,” she mumbles, softly. “How do I know you won’t just—leave me again.”
And there it is, the elephant neither of them had bothered to acknowledge. Bambi doesn’t know how to answer, because there’s not really any excuse for what she did—for how she left Prim.
She shakes her head, determined. She grips Prim’s hand tightly. “Let me prove it to you,” she insists. “I won’t screw this up.”
Prim squeezes her eyes shut, as if contemplating. “Okay,” she nods, more to herself than anything. “Okay. Let’s try again.”
Prim turns to wrap her arms around Bambi’s waist, pulling her in closer; the proximity leaves Bambi a little breathless. Prim squeezes Bambi lightly; a postcoital habit of hers that Bambi remembers being especially fond of. I like the way you feel in my arms— Prim had told her, back when she first did it— It’s, grounding. It makes you feel real.
Bambi sighs, and nuzzles her face into Prim’s neck. It’s enough. For tonight, this much is enough.