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The sun is long past starting to rise by the time they crawl out of bed. Despite how much they promise each other they’ll wake up early, and they do want to wake up early. There’s only so much self control they can manage, they’re only human. Well close enough to human.
It isn’t Gigi’s fault Cecilia looks at her like that when she gets out of the shower, a plush lip pulled tight through straight teeth with desire painting her eyes. The way it shows always makes her shiver. It’s not like her own, unfocused rings of pink trying to drink in every detail and barely keeping up. Cecilia’s need isn’t wanton, it’s calculated. It’s like a huntress watching her prey and imagining every way to rip it apart. Eyes constricting like a camera lens closing in on something beautiful. That barely showing dot of aquamarine shining like the gem she’s kept locked in their nightstand drawer.
And it isn’t Cecilia’s fault Gigi walks out of the shower looking like that. Hair let down and dripping against her tanktop telling Cecilia exactly how much nothing is under it. Standing there smiling softly while she watches her automaton drag her eyes past pierced buds standing proud against sheer fabric. Loose shorts pulled tight against her waist that she knows remind Cecilia just how far she can get her hands around it. Watching her drink in every inch of leg like she hasn’t spent years memorising them.
Okay, so it is Gigi’s fault and she’ll admit it. She just likes it too much to care, seeing what she can still do to Cecilia after all this time together is like a drug. But really it’s still neither of their faults actually, because why would Cecilia’s family give them this entire wing of the house if they expected to see them before noon.
Gigi can’t help the blush creeping down her neck watching Cecilia sift through their dresser. Seeing the marks still showing from last night, painting the soft layer of something like flesh that sits above her frame in a myriad of purples and pink lines that she swears she can still taste. A sweater landing on her face pauses that thought, Cecilia still humming to herself like she does most mornings.
“Pants” Gigi can barely get it out burying her head in the sweater and dragging herself up.
“What? Gigi I already let you wear your stupid sweaters. Do you know how hot it’s going to be? Are you trying to die? Are you trying to make me a widow before we even get married? Do you hate me?”
Cecilia hadn’t turned around but Gigi can feel her smiling, the way her shoulders lift higher with every question, that soft lilt she’s addicted to at this point. She finally turns around as Gigi stumbles off the bed, laughter spilling from her lips only adding to her own flush.
Watching the girl stare at her legs before sighing and turning back to the dresser. “You know you don’t have to mark me.”
“Maybe I just wanted to give you a mating bite, make it official before we make it official.”
“Gigi, you aren’t an alpha and you don’t even have heats.”
“How could you even say that to me, maybe you just keep me sated so well they don’t show.”
Cecilia can only sigh.
—
The noise when they get downstairs is borderline overwhelming compared to the quiet mornings they’re used to. Younger cousins crowding around Gigi as soon as they find her, shrieking and jumping like it’s Christmas in late spring. Climbing over each other to see who can get close enough to hang off her tail first while Gigi laughs and holds it just out of reach. The older ones hovering at the sides of the room with barely concealed concern, doing everything they can to avoid Cecilia’s eyes falling on them.
“Cécilia, viens ici, nous devons acheter quelques choses pour le déjeuner.”
Gigi looks at her helplessly from the very actively growing pile she’s being buried under, too early in their stay to even start putting the sentence together. Cecilia can’t help but laugh, barely resisting sending a picture to the other girls before grabbing her hand to free her.
“Come on you baby, they want us to help shop for lunch.”
“Non non Céce let your uncles meet her, you always keep her hidden away. How are we supposed to know the only.. girl you’ve ever brought to see us.”
Cecilia feels herself tense up, glaring at the wall between her and the kitchen like it’ll make the last 10 seconds not exist. Only tearing her eyes away when she feels Gigi’s hand on the small of her back.
“It’ll be fine Cece, they don’t even know how to ragebait me yet.” It’s all faux confidence, but it makes her smile at least. Even if it does nothing to stop the quickly forming pit in her stomach.
“We shouldn’t be gone too long, promise me you’ll text me if they say anything too bad. You know I’ll always come back to you.”
“I’ll be fine,” Gigi says, running her thumb against Cecilia’s forehead. “You need to worry less, we don't need to find out if this stuff wrinkles.”
“Gigi, don’t call my skin ‘stuff’. You know what it is, you begged me to help you make it just so you could leave marks.”
“You said you liked them!”
“I do.” Cecilia just smiles watching her freeze, tapping her finger against her own marks hidden under Gigi’s collar.
“De suite Cécilia.”
Cecilia groans, kissing Gigi lightly before walking towards the door. “I shouldn’t be gone long.”
She’s barely around the corner before Gigi feels a hand wrap around her shoulder, jumping a bit at the touch. Turning to find an uncle she hasn’t caught the name of yet trying to guide her to the kitchen.
“Alors, you met at work?”
—
Three bakeries later and Cecilia is starting to regret ever entertaining this. She can feel the question hanging there like someone’s holding her key trying to stop it from turning. She knows they don’t care this much. Every loaf they put back and click of their tongue grating on her nonexistent nerves. All the barely scraped together excuses for why this shop isn’t good enough feeling like her joints are being filled with sand.
They don’t care, she knows they don’t. If they actually did they’d just make it at home, or have done anything besides watch Gigi with fear every time someone gets close to her. They’d never willingly pass up a chance to say they’re her better half, especially in front of company. Win some arbitrary contest nobody asked for and say she should’ve never been sent to Immerheim or the Lookout.
It’s just a waiting game for whatever they actually want to say. Dragging it out in every lingering look like somehow by the next shop she’ll feel the same as them. Instead of dread pooling in her stomach. Save them from having to say whatever they know isn’t okay. She doesn’t get stress headaches, one of the very few blessings her creators gave her. It doesn’t stop her from dragging her fingers against her temple while walking back to the car. One of the first ticks she learned to look human, an early gift from the original Scarlet Queen after Liz woke her.
By the time they leave the fourth shop Cecilia is debating if she ever wants to enter France again. Torn between walking right up to the next cashier and buying the entire display or just taking Gigi back to their apartment without a word. Every fibre of her being screaming for the latter, every step towards the next shop feeling like alarm bells ringing out. She can feel the air getting tense before they even open their mouths.
“Alors, un Gremlin.”
It’s like a string finally snapping, that sudden lash on her hands from a violin wound too tight. Five syllables just hanging above her like Damocles, she knows they don’t mean it to be that ugly, but it’s hideous. They don’t even fucking know her; they won’t even let themselves get to know her. She can feel her coils running hotter just trying to keep silent, keep from screaming out everything she’s wanted to since their first night here.
“Cécilia; nous sommes simplement préoccupés par les personnes comme elle.”
“Comme elle..” She turns it over in her mouth, suddenly wishing Immerred wasn’t locked in a jar 1200km away so she didn’t have to feel any of this. “Comme elle..” Every syllable feels like poison on her tongue. “Like her-” She wants to scream or level a building, realistically both. She hates it, that helpless feeling cloying in her chest that this is what people see Gigi as. That even her own family can’t see her as more than a threat.
She just walks forward to the next shop, ignoring the calls behind her. It’s not right, she should reply. Say anything to try and defuse the situation, tell them how wrong they are. But she just can’t. All that hate wrapping around to a dizzy haze, like she can barely walk straight. Every emotion firing at once then not at all, systems set it place before most countries existed to keep her stable.
—
The ride back is quiet in the suffocating kind of way. Lap filled with bread she doesn’t remember buying and her head somewhere between empty and overflowing. She really can’t find it in herself to care, staring at her phone and praying the blank notifications don’t mean anything. Ignoring the looks that all fall somewhere between judgemental and worrying, like they hadn’t just asked why she’s dating a monster; like she herself wouldn’t be considered one.
She’s already halfway up the stairs before the cars even stopped. Paying more attention to her bag slamming against her hip than her steps. Guessing the outline of everything that stabs against her and praying it’ll ground her enough to not walk in and drag Gigi back to anywhere but here.
She’s still swearing under her breath with everything she pulls out that isn’t her keys when it feels like her world stops again. The door getting thrown open and laughter spilling out, Gigi stumbling forward collapsing against her panting. Like everything that could go wrong has, every gear seizing in something between fear and anger and just pure emptiness. How coul-
“Ceceee you’re back.” It comes out slow and slurred. Half drooled against her collarbone while Gigi drags her face against her neck. “I missed you.”
Cecilia doesn’t know what it’s like to breathe but it feels like she’s just stopped drowning. Relief washing through her with every purr spilling from Gigi. “You’re.. drunk.” It comes out harsher than she meant, her voice still blunt with anger and worry.
Gigi doesn’t respond at first, just whimpering and pulling away. Wrapping her tail around herself and staring at the ground. “sorry.” It comes out soft, barely louder than the steps coming up behind them. Cecilia flinches, pulling Gigi back against her and swaying softly.
“It’s okay Gigi, you’re okay. I’m not mad at you, I never am.” She can barely get it out how she wants, biting back every bit of bile resurfacing now that she can think again. It works, or at least she hopes it does. Gigi burying her face back against her neck humming softly. “I missed how you smell.”
She wants to glare as they walk by. Yell at them for not trusting her enough, for hating Gigi just for who she is. Getting her drunk and trying to find some string to pull at, like she’s even capable of hiding how she feels. Like she doesn’t wear her heart on her sleeve. But she just can’t, not now at least. Every bit of hate falling apart feeling Gigi’s clinging to her with every step, melting against her like warm putty.
Cecilia has to bite back a smile, pulling Gigi through the door. “Let’s just get you back to bed.”