Work Text:
Alchemist Cookie never made mistakes. At least, that’s what she liked to believe. Her calculations were precise, her measurements impeccable, and her formulas beyond reproach. But even the most meticulous scientist could fall victim to a momentary lapse in concentration.
The love potion had not been intended for anyone. It was merely an experiment, one she’d planned to analyze and discard afterward. But Brute, ever reckless and never one to ask questions, had downed the entire thing before Alchemist could hand her the right bottle, much less warn her.
The effects had been instantaneous.
Brute had transformed into an even more dramatic romantic than she already had been. She looked at Alchemist like she hung the stars, complimented her every move, and-most horrifically-referred to her as "my sweet, delicate genius."
At first, Alchemist panicked. She could produce an antidote, yes, but the sheer size and resistance of Brute would make it difficult to administer, not to mention the time it would take to formulate and create. The safest option was to let the potion wear off naturally. It would take a day-maybe two at most. That meant spending the day before Valentine’s Day with an overly affectionate Brute.
And so, Alchemist endured it.
They strolled through the town’s where Brute enthusiastically pointed out flowers that reminded her of Alchemist and bought chocolates she insisted they share. Alchemist tried to keep her distance, but Brute was relentless. She carried Alchemist’s bags without being asked, shielded her from the bustling crowd, and they even stopped at a surprise Parfait Cookie concert that Brute insisted on attending. A concert where Alchemist caught Brute sneaking glances at her, grinning whenever their eyes met. And as much as she hated it, Alchemist felt her face heat every time.
They sat under a sugar maple in the late afternoon sun after the concert, Alchemist nervously stirring the remains of a drink while Brute lay beside her, watching the leaves sway overhead. It was too much. Alchemist wasn’t supposed to enjoy this. She wasn’t supposed to want to hear Brute’s laugh like how she is now, soft, fond, unguarded. She wasn’t supposed to feel warmth at the way Brute leaned in just a little too close, her fur brushing against her skin.
Guilt gnawed at her. She had done this. She had taken away Brute’s agency, made her feel something that wasn’t real. It was wrong.
And yet, the selfish part of her didn’t want it to end.
By the time Valentine's Day arrived, Alchemist felt sick with worry and guilt. She had spent an entire day basking in something that wasn’t hers to have. She had taken advantage of Brute and her emotions, even if she had only been waiting for the effects of the potion to fade.
As they sat together once more, watching the morning sunlight filter through the trees, Brute finally spoke.
"Alchie, I gotta tell you something." Brute's voice was unusually serious, but the adoring softness remained in her eyes. "I really, really like you. Like I really want to go out with you."
Alchemist stiffened. Her heart twisted in a way she hated. “Brute,” she said carefully, “You don’t mean that. You accidentally drank a potion is making you say these things.”
Brute chuckled, low and warm. “Yeah? And what if I told you the potion wore off a while ago?”
Alchemist’s breath caught. “What?”
Brute shrugged, leaning back against the tree with a lazy smirk. “Didn’t wanna freak you out, so I just… kept acting the same. Figured if I told you the truth, you’d run off before I got the chance to say it for real.”
Alchemist stared at her, mind racing, heart pounding. This changed everything.
Brute reached out, hesitating for the first time, before gently taking Alchemist’s hand. “So, whaddya say, genius? Wanna give it a shot?”
Alchemist exhaled shakily, staring down at their joined hands. Her heart was betraying her logical mind, pounding loud enough to drown out all of her well-reasoned objections. But this wasn’t a formula to solve or a reaction to control—this was Brute, stubborn and loyal and waiting.
With a slow, tentative motion, Alchemist gave Brute’s hand a small squeeze.
Then, cautiously, she leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to Brute’s lips.
Brute froze for just a moment before melting into it, her large hands carefully cradling Alchemist’s face as if she were something fragile, something precious. The warmth between them was electric, and for once, Alchemist didn’t feel guilty about it. Maybe it is true that Alchemist Cookie never makes mistakes.