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It takes you time to recover after… everything. Even more time to come to terms with leaving Dormont. Things being… new. Different. It rained a few days into your journey to Bambouche and the others watched in bemusement as you ran around and laughed in it, stomping in puddles. Bonnie joined you pretty quickly, too fast for Odile to stop them, and the two of you got drenched and filthy together. You didn’t regret it, even though you went to bed still damp.
Things were different in other ways too. The others were different, sometimes in annoying ways, like how you don’t need a babysitter at all times, but… crab everything, it was nice to be open with them. Raw and uncomfortable at times, but nice. And they all touch you now. Hugs and high fives and elbows and hands ruffling your hair and it’s amazing. Embarrassing, how boneless and happy it can make you, but nowhere near embarrassing enough for you to complain, even as a joke.
You let Mira brush your hair and make little braids, almost falling asleep on her lap from how gentle and close and nice it is. You and Isa hold hands for a whole minute, both flushing dark when you stop and refusing to look at each other. Bonbon has started what they call ‘sneak attacks’, which involves them hiding behind a tree or in bushes, only to jump out and hug you when you aren’t paying attention. Even though you always know they’re there and don’t tell them. And Odile…
She’s not one for touch in general; you know that. She musses your hair from time to time or elbows you gently if she’s teasing you. You hope you’re not making her uncomfortable with your desperate need for touch. But then she starts poking at you as well.
It had started when you weren’t paying attention in an antiques store and her finger had found the small of your back. You had flinched. And made a fairly embarrassing sound, which Odile had proceeded to tease you about for the next half hour.
After that, it kept? Happening? A nudge to the ribs when sidling past you which had your feet actually leaving the ground from how much you jumped. Odile had raised an amused eyebrow and scribbled a quick note in her journal. She’d gotten quite sneaky somewhere along your journey, silently approaching behind you as you stared out at the stars and prodding your belly when you didn’t respond to her words. That one even you couldn’t deny was a squeak. Nor could you deny the hiccup elicited when Odile ruffled your hair and momentarily, maddeningly, scratched a finger behind your ear. Bonnie had laughed themself silly, calling you a turtle at how thoroughly you locked up, and Odile had simply smirked and scribbled another note in her journal.
You can’t help but feel like you’re being toyed with.
You don’t… mind it.
“… Nille lets me drink beer though.”
You hide your laugh in your own drink. The others make similar attempts. “I highly doubt that.” Odile chastises.
Bonnie pouts at you, probably hoping that you’ll give in like you ‘gave in’ with the vodka, but you shake your head. “Sorry Bonbon, I don’t think you’d like it.”
“Why can’t I try it to make sure?!”
Isa laughs. “Because we’re not handing you back to your sister and saying ‘here they are, safe and sound, they helped beat the king and we gave them beer.’”
“Why not?!”
“Because we didn’t go through all that trouble beating the King just for your sister to kill us.” You joke, surprising yourself by not feeling uneasy at the reference. “That’d be just,” You paused for effect. “Un-beer-able.”
Isa burst out laughing, Bonnie wailed in complaint, and you grinned, proud at getting a rise out of them. Then-
EEP!
Fingers pinched up your right side, clever and knowing, and you burst into giggles, squirming away on instinct, but Isa was solid and warm on your other side and you were going nowhere.
Odile chuckled. “My, Siffrin, isn’t laughing at your own joke something of a faux pas?” She wasn’t stopping. You were already feeling giddy, and shoved at her, snorting.
That turned out to be a mistake, because Odile took the opportunity to dart her hand under your arm, fingers wiggling, making you completely lock up and flop forwards onto the table, flushed and laughing. She stopped a moment later, letting you gasp in breaths of stuffy air, grinning and feeling warm all over.
Still, you glared at her playfully as you sat up. She smiled right back with surprising warmth. Her eyes were slightly crinkled at the corners.
Not for the first time, you missed being able to hide in your hat.
You drop your latest pile of firewood and plonk down on a large log with a groan. It’s fine. You’re fine. You promised them you’d be fine on your own for a little while. So it didn’t matter that you felt itchy in the back of your mind, or that you crabbing miss them.
You can almost hear Loop’s voice in your head, reminding you that they’ve been gone for less than half a day poking around the nearest town for supplies and so on. The thought of that many people had made your stomach turn, so you insisted you stay behind on your own. On. Your. Own. You weren’t going to make any of them miss out on a fun day in town just because you were being weird.
Not weird, you remind yourself. Recovering.
Right. Recovering.
You breathe in… and out. It’ll be okay. You’ll be okay.
You continue to breathe slowly and deliberately. It’s not a disaster just because you miss them. You remind yourself. They might even miss you too! It’s okay not to be one hundred percent, that doesn’t mean you lied to them.
The memory of breakfast that morning comes to mind. It wasn’t anything special, but it’s something to focus on. The others, chatting, planning the day, happy and at peace. Bonnie interrogating everyone over their breakfast and its quality compared to yesterday’s. Isa and Mira joking with one another. Odile pretending to write in her journal, smiling at them ever so slightly. You… want to tell them how happy they make you. Huh. That’s new.
Suddenly, without warning, fingers dig into your ribcage from behind, making you shriek loudly and rocket forwards, overbalancing and landing face first on the ground.
Odile sounds to be trying very hard not to laugh at you. “Afternoon, Siffrin. Good job on the firewood.”
You sit up, face warm. At least she came back alone. “You scared me.”
“I noticed.” She set down her bag of supplies by her tent. “I did call your name, but you didn’t respond. Had to get your attention somehow.”
You groan, burying your burning face in your hands. It has the added bonus of hiding your smile. “Why do you keep doing that?!”
Odile chuckled, settling down next to you. “Why do you keep making puns?”
Because it makes the others laugh. Your mind supplies. You sputter. “That’s- it’s not the same.”
She shrugs. “No.” Still looking so crabbing smug.
“So what?”
And she raises an eyebrow. “Siffrin. You were trapped in a time loop for… months, comfortably.” You never did the maths, and you begged them not to. You didn’t want to think about it. “Fighting through the house, sadnesses, every day.”
You swallow and let your hands fall away. “So?”
Odile catches your eye. Gotcha. “So, there is no world in which you couldn’t overpower me if you wanted to. Or simply get out of reach.” And yet, somehow, you always stayed, giggling and squeaking and blushing brightly.
Oh no. You give a strangled squeak and try very hard to pull your entire head into your cloak.
Odile laughs at you. Laughs! “It’s just a bit of fun, Siffrin. Don’t think about it too hard.”
Coming from her?! You can’t even call her a hypocrite because you’re paralysed from embarrassment. You should have known she’d figure it out, she always figures it out, and now- “Mmmpharyftugy.”
She laughs again and ruffles your hair, making you flush still darker, and apparently because she has it out for you, gives a playful little scratch behind your ear and…
“Siffrin.” Oh no. “Did you just say ‘nya’?”
Too much, too close to what she said in the loops every blinding time- “Pineapple.”
Pause. “Huh. I can see how that’d get annoying over and over, yes. Sorry, I won’t make fun of you for that.” A smirk is the only warning you have before both of her hands find your ears and you snap your head back with a snort. “Now, this on the other hand.”
“Hey!” You cannot stop smiling. This isn’t fair!
“Cute.” Odile chuckles.
You try to protest, but all that comes out is giggles and squeaks. You shake your head from side to side, but… she’s right. You’re not trying very hard. Not moving as quickly as you could to shake her off. Just squirming.
You sink down to the ground, giggling defeatedly, and bury your face in your twitching hands.
Odile snickers and guides your head with one hand so it’s gently resting on her leg. With her other hand, of course, she continues her horrible torture. You hiccup and laugh and kick your feet. You feel… fizzy, in the best way.
“So…” Her hand now alternates to whichever side you can’t defend and making you toss your head from side to side. “Ears. Fairly sensitive, but could prove dangerous, any further bloodflow to the head might cause an aneurism.”
What? And there’s that scratching sound…
She laughs softly. “Ah, and easy to launch a sneak attack from the left side, of course.”
Your eye shoots open. Wait! “A-are you- snrk- rehehesearching?!”
Odile grins at you, wide and affectionate and evil. “Heh, and I thought you’d noticed already.” Her fingers wiggle under your chin and you let out a squeak. “Hmm, interesting.” Her smile doesn’t fade. She might not even be writing anything down. “Maybe the hat was better armour than I thought.”
“No-nohoho!” You protest. “Hic!” You can’t even make the very obvious joke about her field of study, because then you’d have to say it! You make a weak grab for her journal, but unfortunately that leaves your side open and…
You scream when she jabs two fingers expertly into the soft spot below your ribs and burst into loud, incoherent cackling. Everything has turned into fuzzy static, emanating from that one spot driving you insane.
You also, for all your thrashing, don’t squirm away. You can’t tell if Odile comments on that or not; it’s hard to hear anything over your frantic laughter, even if you could think straight.
It’s unclear how much time had passed when she does stop. You’re still giggling giddily, smiling wide enough to split your face in two, and Odile smiles back eyes crinkled at the corners and her expression soft.
You take a moment to catch your breath between giggles, squeezing your eye closed because you cannot handle looking at her right now. Then, before she can react, you snatch up the journal and curl around it protectively.
She snorts. “Siffrin.”
You squeeze the journal tighter, keeping your head bowed. She doesn’t sound mad, which is good. You’re firmly in ‘messing around’ territory, and don’t want to overstep.
“Give me my journal please.” She sounds inordinately amused by your antics, and you grin, arms trembling from suppressed laughter. You can hear her roll her eyes. “I don’t want you to get it dirty.”
You make a petulant little sound, squeezing tighter.
She gives a short laugh, hums, then tangles her fingers in your hair again. Feels nice. “Give it back and I’ll keep going.”
“Eep!” And. And?! Did she really have to say it like that?! Making it oh so obvious that you were baiting her? Evil.
Odile laughs again under her breath. “Well?”
“Mmph.” You hesitate, then shove the journal into her lap and curl up into a tight ball, your arms thrown over your head to hide your burning face as much as you can. You’re on the brink of feeling bad, of rambling that she doesn’t have to do this and crawling off to feel horrible when there’s the gentle wiggle of fingers behind your ear and you let out a soft snort, giggling quietly.
You risk a peek from around your arm, and your heart leaps. Odile is smiling at you, unbearably fond. Your eyes meet for a moment, and you squeak, hiding again, giggles growing stronger.
Her other hand worms past your arm to scratch and wiggle at the side of your neck. “It’s nice to see you like this, Siffrin.” She murmurs. “You haven’t been smiling nearly enough lately.”
You’re getting gigglier by the second, but part of your brain latches onto that. Is that really it? The sparkle in her eye feels the same as your pride when you manage a joke that gets under her skin enough to get a laugh.
How many reminders will it take before you accept that they all love you like you love them?
Your stomach hurts a little, but you’d rather cut off your own hand than stop this. It’s close and touching and fun and affectionate, and you don’t want to let this moment go. Odile seems to sense your fatigue, because she keeps her touch gentle, tracing around your ear, scritching playfully under your chin, just enough to keep you grinning and giggling and quietly giddy. You barely notice the dizziness setting in, or your thoughts slowing. Your eye flutters closed, and her hand migrates to combing through your hair. Even that’s enough to have your face scrunching up in a grin, now.
Odile chuckles. “Take a nap, Siffrin. I’ll be here.”
You want to say thank you. You want to tell her how much you love her. But everything is fuzzy and your brain stopped working a while back, so you just snuggle down and do as you’re told, settling into a blissful doze.
Odile likes to stay at camp often, to read the familytale for the hundredth time and as she puts it, ‘rest her old bones’. So, the next time she’s thoroughly engrossed in her book, you easily sneak up behind her and flick a finger up her spine, earning a sound that you will tease her about for the rest of time.
She glares at you half-heartedly and warns that if you ever do that again, she’ll be telling Isabeau about her research.
Your heart almost stops at the thought.
Then, within the hour, you do it again.
Worth it.