Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

When Steph came home for the summer, the last thing she expected to find was Grace Chasity, out and about after nine.

She was, unfortunately, less surprised by the Book in Grace’s hand, the man tied to a table in front of her, and the esoteric words spilling from Grace’s lips. The power emanating from Grace made Steph nauseous, even through a car door from fifty feet away.

Aw, damn, Steph thought. She was supposed to be at a kegger in the woods right now, but she was probably the only person in the whole world equipped to deal with this, and she wasn’t about to let someone die for the promise of shitty beer.

She got out of her car. “Grace!” She yelled, hoping to distract her from her victim. Hoping their friendship from high school was enough to at least give her pause. Grace ignored her. Something she’d never really done before.

Steph jogged from her car to Grace. The slimy energy of the Black and White repelled her before she could grab Grace’s shoulder, before she could shake her out of this.

Finally, Grace looked at her. Her face twisted into a terrible, mocking smile. “Steph-a-nieeee! So good to see you here!” Not-her voice echoed beyond what should have been caused by her speaking volume.”I so look forward to the fun we’re going to have, after I take care of this little perv!” Her smile was too wide. There were too many teeth in her mouth. She laughed and Steph retched. “Kneel,” Grace ordered as she turned back to the helpless man on the table. Her voice was closer to what Steph remembered. “As for you, dirty dude. Didn’t your mother teach you to save room for Jesus?”

“Grace!” Steph cried, trying again to pull her away from the man. If she could save this one guy, maybe things will be alright.

“I SAID KNEEL!” The voices of the Lords spoke with Grace, the voices Steph had not heard clearly since that night two years ago. The power of the Black and White clouded Grace's eyes, leaving her with little more than a speck of light reflecting off of them, showing she still had eyes at all.

“Dirty dudes…” Grace launched into a clearly rehearsed speech about her motivations. The way all guys ever only want sex before marriage and how that’s dirty and wrong. All her usual stuff from high school, but turned up to eleven, possibly farther. An idea, a faint spark of hope, occurred to Steph as Grace ranted. If it’s dudes that are dirty, and anything before marriage is dirty, and I’m not a dude…

Steph knelt. On one knee.

All her life, she knew her father was going to make all the big decisions for her. Where she’d go to school, who her friends were, who she could date. Her input on her marriage would have been locked to one thing: her dress, and even that would have been limited (it would be a dress, full length, white; all Steph would have been able to choose would have been the lengths of the sleeves). She acted out where she could, but he still found ways to grind her down into obedience. Even now, two years after his death, he was still looming over her.

But he couldn’t stop this decision. She pulled a ring off one of her fingers and held it up. “Grace,” she called out, stopping the monster that was once her friend in her tracks. “Will you marry me?”

Grace’s head jerked around. “What did you say?” The grip of the Black and White seemed to have loosened, the unnatural light in her eye somewhat faded. She looked like that high schooler again, like when she wasn’t quite sure if a compliment from Steph was sincere or a veiled joke at her expense.

“Grace Esther Chasity, will you marry me?” Steph said again, pressing the fear in her throat down as much as she could.

“What the fuck?” The man on the ground called out. Not helping, Steph wanted to shout.

“SHUT UP!” Grace roared, the power of the Black and White returning to her voice. She turned back to the man, started to stalk towards him again.

“Grace!” Steph cried before she could cross back to where he lay prone on the table. “Grace,” she continued when Grace turned back around and the not-light again faded from her eyes, “will you marry me? No more first dates, no more dirty dudes. Just you, a-and me.”

Grace looked at her for a long time, long enough Steph was sure she was planning how best to kill her. With the Book, or with her bare hands? Then she smiled. The genuine smile Steph had grown fond of during their senior year of high school, not the smile of someone feeding off the power of the Black and White. She stepped back to Steph and cupped her hands in her own.

“Yes, Stephanie Lauter, I will marry you.” She slid her left ring finger into the ring and pulled Steph to her feet, and then into a tight hug.

The wind blowing around them sounded suspiciously like it was screaming “FUCK YOU STEPHANIE LAUTER! FUCK YOU FUCK YOU FUCK YOU!” as Grace released Steph and fell to her hands and knees, vomiting a viscous black fluid.

Steph crouched next to her to hold her hair away from the spray. Incredibly, it wasn’t all that different from the frat parties she’d attended with Stacy and Brenda, down to the guy tied spread eagle to some lawn furniture. Steph made a mental note to let him go before she got Grace home.

“So, do we kiss now?” Steph asked lightly when the flood slowed down to intermittent bursts.

Grace scoffed weakly. “That’s for the wedding day,” she mumbled. “But we can hold hands.”

Since Steph had resigned herself to her father picking out her eventual spouse (husband, most likely, but sometimes she let herself think he might have selected a wife for her if he needed to boost his appeal to LGBTQ+ voters), she’d never really dated in high school. An occasional hookup here and there, and Pete Spankoffski for a while (until that last argument about his Pretty Woman bullshit he just couldn’t let go), but otherwise she had not let herself get too attached to anyone. That being said, she never expected to jump into engagement like this. Even a small town political arranged marriage had some period of get-to-know-you, right? Instead, on her first night back in Hatchetfield, she’d gone and proposed to Grace Chasity to save some stranger’s life. And objectively, it was insane, but her only regret right now was that Grace had decided they needed to tell her parents.

Her notoriously Christian parents.

The ones who made Grace so scared of sex she ended up killing a man.

And now Grace was engaged to be married. To a woman.

Needless to say, Steph was not excited for this conversation. “Are you sure you don’t want to do this tomorrow?” Steph asked, stopping at a red light she’d normally run to fully look at Grace, curled into a ball in the passenger seat. She reached over to wipe a black crust off the corner of her mouth.

“The light’s green,” Grace said.

Oh, yeah, Steph mused, reaching out to turn on her music. Once Grace Chasity sets her mind to something, she can’t be talked out of it. She let her foot off the brake and made the left turn onto Grace’s street.

“How do I look?” Grace asked when they pulled up in front of her parents’ house. Dark circles ringed her big brown eyes. One of her barrettes had fallen out and Steph hadn’t been able to find it. Black rimmed her teeth and coated her tongue like she’d eaten a lot of color changing candy.

“I’ll be so honest, Grace, I don’t know what’s going to surprise your parents more: how you look or you getting gay married. Are you sure you don’t want to do this tomorrow? I got the house after dad died, we have great showers.”

Grace shook her head. “I told them I’d be home by ten tonight. It’s ten fifteen” You’re twenty. “Besides, they’ll be happy to learn I’m getting married. I think my mom was worried I’d never find someone.”

Even though their daughter was a twenty-year-old adult, and it was only fifteen minutes after their twenty-year-old adult daughter’s curfew, Mark and Karen Chasity practically tackled Grace when she walked into the house.

“Grace!” Karen cried. “We were so worried about you!”

“We were just about to call the police,” Mark said sternly. “You know better than this, Gracie. Honor thy mother and thy father, and that includes the curfews we set for you.”

Grace shrank under their admonishments. “Mommy, Daddy, I’m sorry,”

Somehow, all it took was that simple sentence to placate them. They didn’t even mention her appearance.

“Oh, sweetie, it’s okay, just don’t do it again,” Karen said, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her daughter’s ear.

“As long as you’re living with us, at least,” Mark said, pulling Karen into a side hug. “When you’re married, that’s between you and your husband.” His tone was a disturbing cross between sincere and severe.

“And you’re going to want to spend as much time with him as possible!” Karen punctuated her statement with a kiss on Mark’s cheek. The overwhelming sweetness in her voice made Steph’s stomach churn. Of all the horrors she had ever experienced, the Stepford Wives schtick the Chasitys had going on was up there with the most haunting. Breaking this news to them was a bad idea.

“On that front,” Grace said, and her parents visibly perked up. “I’m engaged!”

“Gracie, sweetheart, that’s wonderful to hear!” Karen cried, and pulled her into a crushing hug. Steph could practically hear the air being squeezed out of Grace’s lungs. “Let me see your ring.” She held up her hand. Steph's ring was silver, chunky, and most certainly not an engagement ring.

“Oh, honey!” Karen said after a moment of examination, her excitement tempered with confusion. “The ring, it’s so… unique!”

“So, who’s the lucky guy?” Mark said, hugging her after his wife let her go. “Getting our Gracie all to himself? Why haven’t I met him yet?”

“Well-” Grace said uncertainly.

Steph stepped out from behind Grace. “That would be me, Mr. Chasity.” She said, offering him a handshake. When his hand closed gently around hers, she squeezed just harder than necessary, like her father had taught her. “Steph Lauter.”

She let go of his hand so she could wrap her arm around Grace. The Chasitys looked back and forth between Steph and Grace in sync with one another. Karen gripped Mark’s wrist.

“Solomon’s daughter?” Karen asked, her voice half an octave higher than earlier.

“The very same,”

“And when did this happen?” Mark asked stiffly.

“I’ve been in love with her since senior year,” Steph lied. Anything to make this seem like it wasn’t some snap decision to save the world.

“I wanted to hear from Grace.” Mark said.

And this is why I wanted to bring you to my place, Steph thought. She turned to Grace with what she hoped looked like a loving, encouraging smile.

“I just felt like it was time,” Grace said. “And no boys were proposing,” Mark and Karen’s jaws dropped in time with Steph’s.

Sure, be a little more honest, why not! And not even an inkling of “I like Steph, too.” That hurt, Steph had to admit. Well, lying was a sin, maybe she could only handle so much bad behavior in one day.

“Gracie, you’re only twenty, you’re still just a girl,” Karen said, “you don’t have to marry-“ she glanced at Steph, “a woman,” she whispered as though Steph wasn’t right next to Grace. “I understand you want to be married, but this-“

“You’re not a homosexual, Gracie." Mark said firmly. "What about those boys from church you dated?” he asked.

“Well, to be fair to Gracie, they are all dead, not many single boys left her age it seems,” Steph couldn’t disguise her shock at Karen’s words. All of them? She met Grace’s shame-filled gaze.

“Wow, that’s, uh, some bad luck, Grace,” she said. “But this is going to go better,” she stated.

“I’m not a homosexual, Daddy,” Grace said, almost robotically. “Steph is my friend. You know I’ve always wanted to marry a friend, right? Like you two were friends before you got married. None of those boys were my friends.”

Mark and Karen exchanged glances. Steph could tell that might have some different meaning to them than it did to Grace.

“Well, I’m glad you two are-” Karen swallowed. “Friends,” Mark nodded. And somehow, with the word ‘friends,’ it was like a switch was flipped. He brightened back up.

“Stephanie, it’s late. How about you stay here tonight?”

“Oh, good idea, Mark!” Karen cried, “You two can have a sleepover! Like old times!”

There were no “old times,” at least not like that. Grace and Steph had never had sleepovers. Even after they became friends, Steph had been so concerned about being seen with Grace that she spent as little time with her outside of school as possible. But the way Grace smiled at her mother’s words made Steph wish she’d actually gotten over her cool girl complex when she started dating Pete. “

I’ll take you up on that,”

“Good. Stephanie, how about you help me get the air mattress to Grace’s room?”

The last thing Steph really wanted was to be alone with Mark, but it’s not like she could say no now. The second Karen walked away with Grace, Mark turned to Steph.

“Stephanie. If you hurt my daughter, you will regret it. If you corrupt my daughter, you will regret it. If you divorce my daughter, so help me God, you will regret it.”

“Mark-”

“Mister Chasity. I don’t know what you’ve done to seduce my daughter. She is not a homosexual. But marriage is a covenant above all else. If you’re just playing with her heart, on top of dragging her into sin, Stephanie Lauter, you will pay.”

“Mister Chasity, I promise you, I’m going to take care of her. I’m going to keep her safe.” In so many more ways than you know. Mark sniffed, like that wasn’t enough for him, but he still seemed to accept it. For tonight, at least.

In any other household, with any other person, Steph would have immediately gotten into her fiancee’s bed the second the door closed on them for the night. Not at the Chasity’s, though. They kept Grace in the smallest, creakiest twin bed Steph had ever had the displeasure of seeing. And after their earlier conversation, Mark was probably sitting just outside, waiting to hear any wayward creaks. Not with Grace, either. Steph wanted to keep everything as clean as possible before the wedding. She’s not a dude, and she should know Grace’s half-explained rules to know what is and isn’t dirty well enough by now. If she slipped up, surely it would condemn Grace once again to the clutches of the Lords, and Steph would do anything to avoid that.

“Let’s stay at mine from now on, huh?” Steph asked Grace. Grace rolled over to look at her.

“We’ll need our own beds,” Grace warned.

“Grace, this is the old mayoral house we’re talking about. I’ve got beds for days,” Hatchetfield took pity on Steph after her father died. The city had loved her father’s time as mayor enough to let her keep the house and build an exact copy of it right down the road for the next guy. “Big ones, too.”

“That sounds nice,” Grace said. She dangled her hand over the side of her bed. Steph reached up to hold it. Her hand was soft and warm. Steph was moved to bring it to her lips to kiss it, but held herself back for fear of what that might trigger.

“I’m glad.” Grace sighed.

“About what?” Steph asked, rubbing her thumb over Grace’s knuckles.

“About you,” Grace said. “I’m gonna marry Steph Lauter.”

The quiet delight in Grace's voice took Steph by surprise. Maybe it only just hit Grace, maybe she was deflecting for the benefit of her crazy parents. Maybe this plan to save her would work after all.

Chapter Text

When Steph was making her plans for this summer, she expected to wake up this morning with a massive hangover after a long night of partying. Instead, she woke gently, with the soft light of the rising sun radiating through sheer pink curtains, painting everything in the unfamiliar room in a rosy glow. The only discomfort she really was in her stiff hand, which had apparently been wrapped around someone else’s all night. Someone else who was wearing one of Steph’s rings. 

Steph followed the line of their linked arms up to see Grace’s face, so close to the edge of her bed she might fall off with any wrong move. 

So none of last night was a dream, Steph realized. She and Grace were engaged. Grace had almost killed a guy for the Lords. Steph had proposed to stop her and it worked. Surely, Grace puking black sludge had to mean Steph’s proposal had worked. 

Weirder things had happened. This is Hatchetfield, after all. 

It had been a while since Steph had seen Grace look any kind of relaxed; not since before high school, at least. Steph took the time offered by the quiet morning to commit this scene to memory. She liked the way peace looked on Grace. Not that Steph didn’t like the way Grace looked normally; Grace’s big expressions were part of her charm. It’s just this was new, different. Good.  

Looking up at her it was hard to believe Steph had only proposed to her to save her. Looking up at her, Steph felt a pleasant warmth kindling in her chest. Looking up at her, Steph could almost believe she was in love. 

It took Steph a moment to catch up to her own train of thought. Maybe her lie to Mark last night wasn’t as much of a lie as she thought. Maybe that’s why it rolled off her tongue so easily. Grace was intense and driven and so, so, so caring in her own messed up way. Back in high school, all of that was super lame and nerdy. At the time, Grace was kind of the worst. Now, however, Steph couldn’t help but remember their time together fondly. And now, they’re getting married. 

She, Steph Lauter, was getting married to Grace Fucking Chasity.  

She looked back to her ring on Grace’s hand. Grace’s protest of “ I’m not a homosexual, Daddy ,” suddenly rang loud and clear through her mind. Steph clenched her jaw. Grace seemed so giddy before they went to sleep, though. At the end of the day, all she wanted was Grace happy and safe. But what if she couldn’t be happy with Steph? What if Steph proposing just doomed Grace to an unhappy life?

A gentle sigh brought Steph back down to earth. She looked up to meet Grace’s deep brown eyes. She’d never really noticed how pretty they were. They’d never had much quiet alone time together. 

“Hi Steph,” Grace said, her voice raspy with sleep. 

“Hey, Grace,” Steph said, sitting up so she’d be eye to eye with her fiancée, never letting go of her hand. “You ready for moving day?” They hadn’t actually made plans yet, but it seemed the natural next step. Grace smiled at the question, then paused and shook her head. 

“Need to eat first. What time is it?” 

At the mention of food, Steph realized how hungry she was. She glanced at her phone. “Like eight,” she said. 

Grace shot up. “Eight AM?” she asked, aghast. “What are we still doing asleep? Breakfast will have gone cold by now!” She let go of Steph’s hand in her haste to scramble out of bed. The sudden absence of her grasp made the stiffness and soreness worse. Steph opened and closed her fist a few times, trying to get the blood circulating again.

Steph turned towards the wall as Grace changed from her pajamas to her day clothes, just like in high school gym.

She waited for Grace to ask if she was “ready to face the day?” before turning around, and was shocked by what she saw. Grace wore a T-shirt in an uncomfortably familiar shade of pink. Steph didn’t need to be able to read the extremely faded text to know it used to say “Virginity Rocks!” She could have gone the rest of her life without seeing one of those shirts again, but she wasn’t about to tell Grace that. She also wore a pair of jean shorts that reached to just below her knees. At that moment, Steph realized it was the most of Grace’s skin she’d really ever seen, as Grace didn’t even wear shorts at camp. Well, the most she’d seen excluding That Night, when she couldn’t take her eyes off of the horror show that was Grace giving herself up to Max, she realized with a wave of guilt. Grace didn’t let him undress her fully in that moment, just enough for him to get at what he wanted. Her stomach. Her ribs. Her thighs. And Steph had been rooted to the spot, not able to do anything but watch Grace sacrifice everything she cared about for her friends. For the world. For Steph. Steph bit her cheek hard, until she tasted blood. Anything to distract herself from that memory. 

“Let’s head on down,” Grace said brightly, completely unaware of Steph’s turmoil. 

Grace led Steph from her room through her parents’ home. The smells of breakfast suffused the house, growing stronger as they approached the kitchen. The Chasity’s house was actually warm and loving, in their own strict way. There were so many pictures on the walls, especially of Grace in her Sunday best, that it was hard to see the daffodil colored wallpaper on which they were mounted. First days of school, Christmases, family gatherings. Steph tried to count them, but gave up after thirty, and that was long before they got near the kitchen. 

“Good morning, girls!” Karen said brightly when they came to the kitchen. Last night, Steph hadn’t had the opportunity to look around, and now she was struck by how welcoming their kitchen was. The warmth of the wallpaper and the light bulbs and the stove all combined to make the room surprisingly pleasant. Solomon somehow managed to make the kitchen in her house cold and sterile and unwelcoming; the Chasity kitchen was a room Steph could actually imagine cooking in. At home, she was only ever in the kitchen long enough to put something into the microwave and later to get it out; rarely did she stay in the room to even watch the plate inside spin. 

“Morning, Mom,” Grace kissed her on the cheek. Steph waved at Karen, unsure what she expected her to do.

“Smells good, Mrs. Chasity.” Karen nodded at her with a polite smile. 

“You two go sit down. I’ll bring breakfast out in a moment.”

“Alrighty, Mom, looking forward to it”

Grace led the way to the breakfast table. Mark was already seated; all that was visible of him was his fingers holding his newspaper like some kind of cartoon character. 

“Gracie, how did you sleep last night?” Mark asked from behind his newspaper. Grace sat across from him, Steph took the seat next to her. As far from Mark as she could manage. 

“Really good, Daddy,” Grace said. 

“No funny business, right?”

Steph’s jaw dropped at his insinuation. Oh my god, I have got to get out of this house!

“GROSS!” Grace yelled. “No way, Dad.”

Steph smiled tightly at Grace's outburst. She turned to look at Grace, only to see her face twisted into a look of pure horror.

To see her fiancée, the person Steph was going to live with for the rest of her life (come hell or high water), react like that to the thought of a little bit of base running cut deep. Even in her worst moments, Steph knew that at least whoever Solomon paired her with would have been attracted to her, in some way. 

Maybe all of this was a mistake. Maybe impulsively proposing to a girl you haven’t seen in two years isn’t the way to go about it . 

Not that she’d ever try to force Grace into touching her, kissing her, loving her. She’d never do that to anyone, but especially not to Grace. But it would have been nice to have some kind of physical contact, beyond holding hands and the occasional hug. 

God she’s selfish. Is that all marriage is good for, at the end of the day?

She knew Grace wasn’t gay, anyway. How could she have expected any of that out of her? 

Steph proposed only so she could save Grace, the way she couldn’t save her two years ago. She shouldn’t expect anything from Grace, except maybe for her to stop killing people. Besides, at least they liked each other as friends. That was more than a lot of the couples in Hatchetfield could say. 

“We’re not even married yet!” 

Grace’s words cut Steph’s disappointed thoughts off, hard. 

She tried to ignore the little thrill sparking down her spine at the implication of Grace’s statement. Selfishly, though, she did let herself hope that maybe that kind of love was actually possible for them. 

She reached for Grace’s hand under the table, half expecting her to bat it away. Instead, Grace linked their hands and rubbed her thumb over Steph’s knuckles. Steph thought she knew Grace’s rules, but this was a new variable. 

“That was a real nice air mattress, Mr. Chastity,” Steph tried to change the subject to neutral ground. “Usually they deflate on me.”

Mark sniffed. “So, Grace, what are your plans for today? Second day of summer!” There was a forced happiness to his voice, like something plucked out of an old sitcom. 

Karen brought their breakfast out. Pancakes, eggs, bacon. She set one plate in front of each person at the table, then settled into her chair next to Mark. She ducked behind his paper for a moment, then sat up straight. “Dig in!” She said brightly. 

“I don’t know, Daddy,” Grace said. “Probably spend time with Steph, though.” At Grace’s mention of her name, Mark tightened his grip on his newspaper. 

Steph looked at Grace with a smile. She squeezed Grace’s hand. Grace beamed at her and squeezed back. 

“I was thinking we’d start moving Grace to my home,” Steph offered. Karen dropped her fork. Mark folded the newspaper down to look at her, then at Grace, then at Steph. 

“You’re not married yet,” Mark said. 

“Oh, Mark, our Gracie is twenty now,”

“She doesn’t have to move out,” he said firmly. 

Oh my god I have got to get Grace out of this house!

“I’d like to live with Steph, Daddy,” Grace said. She was pulling the same big eyed pleading face that she’d seen from Brenda before. From Brenda, Steph thought it was gross. From Grace, she wasn’t sure how anyone could resist. Even Mark crumbled. 

“Well, it’s just that you haven’t been away from us for that long, only your time at camp. Are you sure you don’t want to wait a little longer before you leave us?”

“That’s the thing, Daddy. It’s a big change. I want to know what I’m getting into before marriage.” Grace smiled to herself, clearly pleased with her infallible logic. 

Mark flipped his newspaper back up and leaned over towards Karen, obscuring both of them from Steph and Grace. While they discussed, Steph took the chance to place her bacon onto Grace’s plate. Grace looked at her, confused. “Vegetarian,” Steph whispered; Grace should have known that. Except Steph’s process of going vegetarian then vegan then back to vegetarian happened over the course of last year, when she wasn’t in Hatchetfield. And Steph wasn’t exactly updating Grace on her day to day routine. 

Steph watched Grace eat the bacon out of the corner of her eye. If she didn’t know something that basic about Steph, what else didn’t she know? Murders aside, what didn’t Steph know about Grace? Does she drive now? What kinds of movies does she watch? Does she do her laundry on Saturdays or Sundays? 

After a bit of intense conversation, Mark flipped the paper back down. 

“Grace, your mother and I can accept you moving out, but we have some conditions for you.”

Steph wanted to yell at Mark, remind him that Grace was not only an adult, but soon wouldn’t be living under his roof and would no longer be under his thumb, but she kept quiet. If this bullshit could get Grace out of here sooner, she’d live with it. 

“One: keep your curfew. Nothing good happens after ten.” 

Steph barely stopped herself from rolling her eyes. This same speech from last night. Surely Mark and Karen had some kind of night life when they were dating! 

“Two: no funny business. Two unmarried women living under the same roof is tantamount to a brothel.” 

At that statement, Grace deflated into her chair. Her grip on Steph’s hand loosened, and she pulled away somewhat, all her excitement to start living with Steph clearly evaporated in a moment. 

Mark plowed on, oblivious to the hurt he’d just caused his daughter. “Three: come to church. You must keep up your faith.” 

“Yes, Daddy,” Grace said flatly. 

“And four,” Karen cut in, like she’d just thought of it, “Come to dinner at least once a month.” Grace smiled a little at her mother’s idea.

Her interjection surprised even Mark, but after a moment, he nodded. “Come to dinner at least once a month.” He reiterated.

“That sounds like a plan,” Steph said, hoping her acquiescence could get them on the road sooner. Mark nodded, and turned expectantly to his daughter. 

In lieu of a response, Grace shot to her feet. “May I be excused?” She asked. “I don’t feel well.” As soon as she finished asking her question, she darted off in the direction of the restroom. Without thinking, Steph got to her feet and rushed to follow her, with Mark and Karen close on her heels. She didn’t want to think about the conclusions they’d jump to if they saw the black sludge Grace was surely vomiting into the toilet right now, or what kind of religious freak they’d call to exorcise her. 

Fortunately, Steph managed to make it to the bathroom several seconds before Grace’s parents, and knelt beside her, obscuring the toilet bowl as much as possible. Sure enough, she was vomiting more of the stuff from last night. Now she could see it in the light; it had an unnatural iridescence, and swirled beneath the surface of the water faster than it should. Once again, she gathered Grace’s hair with one hand and rubbed her back with the other. 

“It’s okay, hon, get it all out. You’ll feel better,” she soothed as a shocking amount of slime spilled from Grace’s mouth. Then she turned to Grace’s parents. “Do you have ginger ale, or anything to settle her stomach?”

“No soda in the house,” Mark said, like Steph was a stupid child who’d asked a particularly stupid question, rather than a friend trying to comfort his sick daughter. Steph turned to Karen, whose face was pinched in concern. 

“Ginger tea? Something?” 

The request snapped Karen to attention. She nodded. “I’ll see what we can do.” She grabbed Mark’s arm and pulled him down the hall. 

Once Steph was sure they were far enough away, and once Grace stopped heaving, she reached down to cradle Grace’s head in one hand and lift it so they were looking at each other. 

“Is it bad?” Grace asked, her voice rough. Black dribbled down her chin, the dark circles around her eyes had become more pronounced, and most alarmingly, her cheeks had noticeably hollowed. Steph grabbed some toilet paper to wipe off her chin.

“I’ve seen worse,” she said as she dabbed at Grace’s face. 

“Lying is a sin,” Grace said, but she smiled. Her teeth were again covered in a film of black. 

“At least I’m your favorite sinner,” Steph said. She threw the wad of toilet paper into the bowl and, after a moment of hesitation, flushed the toilet. Surely nothing bad would come out of putting that shit into the water, right? She stood to pour Grace a cup of water. “You got any left in the tank?” Grace gargled, then spit into the toilet. 

“I don’t think so,” she said. Steph nodded and pulled her to her feet. Grace leaned against her while she brushed her teeth. Steph couldn’t tell if it was because she was unsteady on her feet or because it was comforting. Either way, she had to fight off the urge to press a kiss into her hair. 

Once Grace was steady on her feet again, she left Steph in her room while she dug her camp duffel bags out of the hall closet. Steph was just about to jump into digging through Grace’s things when she was startled by the sound of a knock on the door, only to turn to see Karen opening it. She set a mug of tea on Grace’s desk. It made the room smell of ginger. 

“Thank you, Steph,” she said quietly. “For taking care of her. I worry, you know.” 

Steph nodded. “I always will, Mrs. Chasity.” 

Karen smiled tightly at her words, then opened her mouth like she wanted to say more, but before she could go on, Grace came back with her bags. 

“We don’t have any ginger drinks, sweetheart, but I do have ginger in the spice cabinet, and chamomile tea. I hope this settles your tummy, Gracie.” She kissed Grace on the cheek and stepped out of the room, closing the door behind her. 

“You drink that,” Steph said. “I’ll get started.”

Grace nodded. She sat at her desk and cradled the mug against her chest, blowing on it for a long while before she started drinking it. Her gaze rested on Steph like a weight; from anyone else, a gaze like this might feel judgemental, might make Steph act out a little to piss off whoever was watching her. From Grace, it made her take her time, take time folding the clothes she pulled out of the dresser, and gently place them in the bags. She wanted to be good for Grace. 

And she was good, or at least good enough; Grace made no comments on the way Steph packed her things, just watched her move through her room. That is, until Steph wrapped her fingers around the knobs of the top drawer of her dresser. 

“NOT THAT ONE!” Grace cried, breaking the comfortable silence. Steph turned and Grace was right next to her, having gotten up and crossed her room at a shocking speed, with no sound. Fear and something like anger colored her gaunt face. 

“Jesus, Grace, you keep skeletons in the closet, not your dresser drawers,” Steph joked, hoping that look would leave Grace’s face. 

“I’ll take care of it.” She said, the anger leaving her expression, at least, but not the fear. Steph nodded and stepped towards the bookshelf next to her bed, trying to identify anything that might be worth packing on this first trip. At the sound of the drawer opening, Steph took a peek over her shoulder, and, well, an underwear drawer shouldn’t have elicited that intense of a response from Grace. 

Until Grace pulled something from the bottom of the drawer. A book bound in black. She tucked it under her shirt, a clumsy disguise. 

Well, maybe the Black Book would be safer with them, as long as they knew where it was. Maybe. 

More surprising, though, was the two smaller boxes she pulled from deeper in the drawer, and her well practiced sleight of hand that camouflaged them. Cigarettes. Grace, a smoker? Add that to the list of things Steph didn’t actually know about her fiancée. 

Between the two of them, packing went swiftly, even without Grace’s parents’ help. They filled every corner of Grace’s bags with her most important day-to-day items, planning to come back and finish packing after Sunday dinner. 

“Alright, ready to go?” Steph asked. Grace nodded. 

Grace started the well practiced motion to sling one of the bags over her shoulder, but no matter how she pulled on it, she couldn’t seem to budge it. Same with the other one. 

“Oh, no,” Grace whispered. Her hands curled into fists, her index fingers picking at the skin on the sides of her thumbs. She turned to Steph, a haunted look clouding her gaunt face. “I think-I think the Lords took back a lot more than they gave me.” She chewed on her lower lip. “Will you… carry my bags?”

Steph nodded, thinking back to the halls of Hatchetfield High. Grace shouted down Max Jagerman’s offers to carry her books or her bags several times in their school lives. This request meant nothing to Steph, and everything to Grace. 

“Anything for my fiancée,” Steph said, easily hefting the bags. Grace let out a shaky breath and smiled. Steph could carry her bags, maybe even should carry her bags. Because they were engaged to be married. That's something your partner does for you. And that’s okay. Good, even. 

Steph hauled the bags into the back seat of the car while Grace said her goodbyes to her parents. Long and a little tearful, like they were seeing her off to college out of state, instead of her moving just across town. She stood by Grace’s car door to watch her walk down the driveway. Grace subtly wiped tears from the corners of her eyes as her smile grew with every step. 

“You ready, Grace?” Steph asked when she stopped at the car. 

“I am, Steph.”

Steph opened the door, as chivalrous as her parents would expect of someone dating their daughter. After Grace got settled and she closed the door, she turned back to look at the Chasitys, standing in front of their house. 

“See you guys soon!” She hollered up the driveway. “Looking forward to dinner!” She didn’t wait to hear their responses as she walked around her car to slide into the driver’s seat and started the car. She reached over to hold Grace’s hand. 

“Let’s go home.”