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Gigi is drunk, so she rambles more than usual. With that comes half-truths and messy, slurred enunciation. A gremlin in the process of declaring the thoughts in her head.
These thoughts are spoken, delivered to Cecilia’s very open hands, she listens with a smile tugging at her lips. She looks beautiful, Gigi thinks.
“Whyyy’s lovin’ you so easy?” Gigi complains, dragging the words out like they’re heavy on her tongue. “Feels like it should be... I dunno, hard or somethin’. Like I should be—should be on my knees, kissin’ your legs.”
The automaton giggles, “Is that something you should, or want to do?” she teases, head tilted just so.
“Because either way…” Cecilia purrs, gears humming faintly, “I won’t stop you.”
Gigi blinks slow, thrown off for half a second—then grins, crooked and hazy.
She inches closer, tail curling possessively around Cecilia’s side.
“Like—I should worship the... the ground you walk on, y’know? Give you the whole damn world on a plate or somethin’... all pretty ‘n shiny.” Her voice gets floaty, lost in the haze of drink and devotion. “Just to see you smile, all soft and... perfect like that.”
She’s swaying now, legs gone jelly-soft. Would’ve dropped if not for Cecilia’s steady hands catching her by the hips. Gigi’s own hands find Cecilia’s face—clumsy, but gentle—palms warm against porcelain.
“But I’m here… like, right here. An’ lovin’ you’s jus’ so—so damn easy.” Her words come slow, like each one needs a second to remember where it’s going. “I hold…” her eyes blink heavy, locked on Cecilia’s, thumb tracing slow, lazy circles. “...hold your hand. An’ you—hic—you give me a kiss. You reward me with your... your affection, and I—I love you.”
She pauses, blinking again like she’s surprised by how much she means it.
“And it’s just… it’s so easy. Whyyy is it easyyy...?”
There’s no accusation in her voice—just awe, soft and slurred, like she’s staring at a miracle and trying to wrap her arms around it. Her fingers tremble a little where they rest against Cecilia’s cheeks, like maybe she’s scared the answer might slip through them if she holds it wrong.
“I don’t—I don’t get it,” she mumbles, a faint wobble in her voice. “It’s not supposed to be. I’ve never—nobody’s ever...” Her brow furrows like she’s trying to stitch the thought together with frayed thread. “I always mess it up. I break things. I burn bridges. But this?” She sways again, swallows. “You’re still here.”
She leans in just a little, her thumb still brushing porcelain. “You make it easy.”
Cecilia hums, the sound a delicate chime, and lifts her own hands to gently cover Gigi’s. “Maybe because,” she begins, voice like warm silk, “your heart recognises mine. Maybe love is supposed to be easy when it’s real.”
She leans in close enough that the tips of their noses brush, her smile gentle and bright as polished brass. “Or maybe it’s because I was designed to adore every molecule of you.”
Gigi lets out a breathless little noise—half laugh, half whimper.
Cecilia draws back just a touch, only to grasp Gigi’s hands more firmly. She brings them up, one at a time, and presses soft, deliberate kisses to the knuckles, her gaze never leaving Gigi’s face.
Gigi stares, wide-eyed and quiet, like she’s seeing stars. “You’re lookin’ at me like I’m... I dunno. A sunrise. Or somethin’ worth prayin’ to.”
Cecilia giggles, eyes crinkling at the corners. “Well,” she says, “you are. Orange just like when the sun rises above the horizon.”
Still holding Gigi’s hands, she turns and gently guides her toward the brass spiral stairs at the middle of her bedroom, each step clicking softly under their feet. The loft is warm and quiet above, all soft cushions and amber glow. Cecilia leads her to the bed and eases her down with careful, practised grace, her hands resting light on Gigi’s shoulders.
Gigi doesn’t let go. Her arms slide around Cecilia’s waist, pulling her close as she presses her head against the automaton’s chest—right over the soft ticking of her internal gears.
“I’m so in love with you,” she mumbles, voice barely a whisper against the warm porcelain.
Cecilia cradles the back of her head, fingers sifting through unruly hair. “I know, Gigi,” she murmurs. “And I plan on cherishing every second of it.”