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Going on a date had been Rikki's idea. Vyvyan was quite happy with their relationship as it is–pester, bicker, fight, watch Bastard Squad on the sofa, shag. Rinse and repeat.
But, apparently, princess of the flat was growing tired of the routine.
“You never take me out on a proper date!” Rikki scoffed one day. She had been lounging in Vyvyan’s room, writing her poetry (well, that's what she had said she was in here to do, but her biro hadn't scraped the paper in the past hour). Belly down on her girlfriend’s bed, legs kicking aimlessly in the air like some lovesick schoolgirl… while said girlfriend seemed to be inventing the crossbreed bastard child of a rocket launcher and their already volatile toaster. Vyvyan had looked up from her contraption against God.
“You wha’?”
Rikki huffed, big blue eyes rolled all the way up to the lightbulb in the ceiling. “A date! Y’know, chatting across a table, holding hands down the street, that kind of thin–”
“Rik, I don’t think I need to tell you that we can’t exactly go out gallivanting our relationship.”
Rikki huffs, shutting the notebook altogether now. The biro rolls out of her fingers and onto the floor. She doesn't notice. “They don't have to know that. It's perfectly normal for two girl BFFs—”
“Don't say BFFs like we’re twelve years-old again.”
“—Fine, close acquaintances to go out for lunch and a chat,” Rikki sniffs. “In fact, the world would be better off if we all stopped catfighting for… for bourgeois male attention and returned to the sisterhood or our—”
“Oh, not this again,” Vyvyan grumbled, tossing her screwdriver into her lap. “Anyways, Rikki, what’s the point then if we're just gonna prattle on like schoolgirls? Best just stay home and screw each other. Easier…”
Rikki huffed—this pathetic little squeaky sound—but said nothing else. When Vyvyan looked back over her denim shoulder, Rikki was curled up and pouting over the issue, like a dog who had been denied a belly rub.
…It was such a pathetic display, Vyvyan still has no idea how it got her to relent. Months ago, Vyvyan would have just called her a girly priss and stomped off. Perhaps dating said priss was just different. All of Rikki’s extra estrogen must be rubbing off on her or something. Giving her unnecessary, foreign new traits, like sympathy and a want to smell slightly better.
They couldn’t afford anything particularly nice, but Rikki still had recent twenty-first birthday money mailed over from mummy and daddy, and Vyvyan had a fiver she kept stuffed under her pillowcase. (Why? That was between her and the pillowcase.) They euped up in a slightly more decent, if still generally sticky, than their usual spots pub. It really wasn't all that special, but Rikki was particularly giddy nonetheless. Smiling, kicking her legs under the table—to Vyvyan, she looked more like an overeager pup than a sophisticated, young sociology student. If she squinted hard, she could imagine a little tail wagging.
They ordered a plate of chips with cheese to share. Vyvyan assumed Rikki's recent full vegan phase was already running dry given the way she nibbled at the plate leisurely. Vyvyan scranned her side like she did everything–like a last meal on death row.
Vyvyan swallowed a good quarter of her babycham at once. Rikki sipped her fruity cider.
“We’re doing a protest on free menstrual products at Scumbag’s doors next week,” Rikki was saying, about forty-five minutes in.
Vyvyan rolled her eyes. “Oh, God. More bloody yelling in the middle of my dissections… Y’know everything’s free with the five finger discount, right?”
Rikki squinted, grease-riddled chip between her fingers so daintily Vyvyan half expected her to stick her pinky out. “Five finger…?”
“Stealing!"
Rikki rolled her eyes. “Anyways… just putting it out there if you want to come support the cause.”
Vyvyan scrunched up her nose. “Think I'll be alright… Why don't you ask Nellie? Seems like she might be into that kinda stuff.”
“Ugh,” Rikki responded, making a face. “No… She probably doesn’t even use a tampon. Probably into that disgusting freebleeding nonse— Oh Christ! ”
Before Vyvyan could question what the yelling was about, Rikki had, completely dramatically, slid off of her seat to crouch under the table. Her little fingerless-mittened fingers gripping the table’s underside until they whitened. Vyvyan turned her head over her shoulder, to see who’d just walked in. Her first thought was someone threatening enough that Rikki had previously pissed off (wouldn’t be the first time), already squaring up to defend her girlfriend and then bully her for whatever it was she had done herself.
But all she saw was her Aunt Eddie already arguing with the man running the bar. Probably about money again. She looked no different than when Vyvyan had spied her–different pub, same context–a year ago… nor the year before that. All sheared blonde hair, that almost made her look like any balding bloke from a distance, and crap-brown suit that hadn’t seen a wash since the 70s. Behind her was the little pudgy, greasy haired flatmate she, apparently, still had.
“Aunt” was a loose term. Edwina “Eddie” Hitler had been a foster sister of her Mum’s, apparently, once upon a time, and, for some reason, neither had really managed to shake each other for too long. Eddie became a fluid figure in Vyvyan’s life, never coming by expectedly, but teaching her important life skills like how to loot the off licence and cheat at cards. Still, it had been remarked upon that they had many a similarity—same attitude, same alcohol tolerance and consumption, same masculine name (though Eddie's was only short for Edwina and Vyvyan got away with it, if only because people kept assuming it was Vivienne or something else spew-worthy). They even looked a bit similar, apparently.
And, yet again, they locked eyes and Eddie shuffled over. Her… friend? strode behind her with a huff. “What are you doing here?”
Vyvyan smirked. “On a date.”
Aunt Eddie was a lesbian. She did not care who Vyvyan shagged, or vice versa… then again, she might have some queries about Vyvyan’s choice in women. Still, Vyvyan kicked Rikki in the knee under the table. “Oi! Stop snivelling down there and say hello to my aunt… my love.”
Trembling like a prey animal in one of those animal documentaries Nellie always watches, seemingly just to weep over, Rikki levered herself back up from under the table. “Um… hello Vyvyan’s aunt, and…” A sigh. “Hello, Auntie Rache–”
“ Rachie! ” Vyvyan was forced to lean back at an uncomfortably far angle, back screaming against the edge of her chair, as the other woman– Rikki’s aunt– leaned over her to cover her left cheek in kisses, making grotesque wet noises. “Goodness, it’s been simply ages–”
“Yep, yeah, but I prefer Rikki, Auntie, please–”
Rachel only let back up with a scoff and a dismissive wave. “Rikki, Rachie… Girls these days and their weird bisexual names. God, who’d be a real woman.”
Vyvyan stared up at her. She had vaguely heard about this housemate of her aunt’s, usually from the older woman’s complaining. They weren’t a couple but always sounded like they could be, at this point. She was this plethora of contradictions just to look at. Vyvyan was no fashionista, but her clothes, inherently, looked like something she’d see the posh fucks wear, her blouse and dress trousers–but it also looked like it had gone unwashed, or ironed for the very least, for a ridiculously long time (not as if Vyvyan could say much), and the massive beige overcoat wasn’t helping. Her make-up was fairly well done, if a little shaky or splodgy in some places, but the greasy hair was the immediate attention grabber regardless. Part of her expression seemed endearing, like a five year-old who’d gotten into mummy’s closet, but the odd jittery mania behind it was more than a little unsettling. And Vyvyan eats nails when she’s drunk.
…She does look like Rikki, though.
“Sorry about her. She insisted it was human cruelty if I left her alone at the flat again,” her Aunt Eddie told them, dryly. “I insisted she’d be fine knitting her… weird shoe–”
“It is a hat , Eddie”
Eddie rolled her eyes. “Let’s get you a pint and shut you up, alright, Tulip? ”
Rachel paused, glared at her, squinted… then giggled. “Oh, alright. What the heck. Us two young spinster bachelorettes looking for a good time.” (This was followed by a rather crude thrusting gesture that belied her attempt at being ladylike.”
“Yeah, whatever. I need a drink.”
Vyvyan looked over at Rikki. Rikki was staring at the floor, cheeks a searing red–and not just from her aunt’s lipstick stains.
“Bye-bye Rachie-bear! Have fun with this, um… friend of yours,” Rachel laughed awkwardly, looking over at Vyvyan as one might a slimy, sticky slug someone had stepped on.
“Bye, Vyv,” aunt Eddie grunted at her own niece. “Don’t get arrested… Or do! Some chicks like that on a first date.”
“It’s not our–” Vyvyan stopped herself, frowning into her glass. This was their first date, in all technicalities. First actual date.
She, oddly, didn’t hate the idea.
Rachel and Eddie went off after Rachel gave Rikki’s pigtails a little, childish tug and Eddie had eventually managed to haul them both off herself, holding Rachel by the elbow as if the woman was already over her limit. It took Vyvyan two seconds to burst out into laughter. Loud, rough, table slapping laughter.
“Shut up, Vyvyan!” Rikki hissed ( barely hissed–more shouted equally as loud, but she was trying to merely hiss no less).
“ Ooh, Rachie! ” Vyvyan said, putting on a high, faux posh voice. “ How lovely it is to see you? How are you? Have you finally stopped pissing the bed yet– ”
A chip is tossed near Vyvyan’s left boob. Vyvyan smugly picks it up from where it had fallen on her lap and scoffs it in front of her girlfriend, to Rikki’s too visible distaste.
Rikki huffs. “If you must know, Auntie Rachel hasn’t seen me in sixteen years. A lot of us… have cut her off.”
“Why’ssat?”
“...Do you have a week free?”
Vyvyan nodded to herself. “Right. Fair enough… We’d best start getting out of here, ‘fore my aunt starts a fight with a pro wrestler or something and needs driven out in an ambulance.
“I was about to say the same. I don’t exactly want to watch Aunt Rachel get another sexual harassment lawsuit…” Rikki lifted her still half full cider glass. “Do you want this… Think I’m already a little… buzzed.”
“Lightweight,” Vyvyan snorted. She took it anyways. Downed it in one go.
When she dropped the glass, she was faced with Rikki. A very pink, half-lidded, dreamlike Rikki. Vyvyan suddenly felt all fluttery and hot, in a way she vaguely recognised from their relationship but still wasn’t fully used to. “Jesus… you are pissed.”
Rikki rolled her eyes, but she was laughing. Snorting in between, in an oddly endearing way. Like a baby piglet you just wanted to protect. Or squeeze to death. “Maybe but… I don’t know. I guess I just enjoyed this, being with you like this… We should do this again sometime.”
Vyvyan found herself chewing on the inside of her lip. Her face went uncomfortably feverish–she could feel the sweat forming. She should insult her, kick her shin under the table. She went to take another drink. She remembered both their glasses were empty.
“...Yeah. We should.”