Work Text:
AJ is used to being drunk. She’s used to the warm, fuzzy edges of her vision, used to the way her balance is knocked askew. She’s used to the warm lights of the pub, and used to the way that murmured words feel much too loud, and much less intelligent.
Drift, it seems, isn’t. AJ supposes royalty shouldn’t necessarily get intoxicated during balls, or large banquets. Still, she finds herself surprised that Drift can’t handle her alcohol. The nature mage sways beside the tinkerer, her smile easy and sticky with sweetness as she chats to Shelby, who is starkly sober in comparison, and looks to be bemused by Drift’s drunken slurring.
It’s okay, AJ isn’t much better in that regard, although her bemusement is more pure awe. No, Drift hasn’t had enough to be drunk (AJ would barely be tipsy with the amount Drift has had), but the flush rests prettily on the nature mages cheeks, and AJ finds she really doesn’t mind Drift’s apparent lightweight-ness.
No, royalty didn’t have a reason to get wasted, and AJ secretly is happy about it, because it’s so clear that being drunk is still new to Drift, which gives her that glow under the lanterns. The glow that came with being truly free. AJ wishes, for a moment, for it to be true, glancing over to Drift and Shelby.
However, for now, Drift looks happy, which is more than AJ could ever hope for. She watches as Drift stands to go pour herself another drink, watches as Shelby holds Drift’s wrist, her eyes pleading, as she suggests that Drift have some water instead.
Drift looks at Shelby, and she looks to be thinking about it, looks like she doesn’t want to.
Drift sits back down with all the grace of a newborn deer.
At least she knows what’s good for her, AJ thinks. Or, at least Shelby does. Surprisingly, the thought doesn’t come with jealousy. No, it’s a rather warm feeling. Someone is taking care of Drift. It’s what she deserves.
Yes, Drift can take care of herself. But AJ doesn’t think she should have to do it alone all the time, which is something Drift isn’t very receptive of. It seems that the pendulum of Drift’s independence is still swinging far to the left, and AJ has noticed it in the way Drift can never seem to lean fully on someone, without expecting them to topple.
AJ takes another swig of her drink, trying to push those thoughts aside. She was supposed to be partying, not psychoanalyzing Drift. It was a losing game anyways. She might as well get blackout drunk instead, it would be less of a waste of time.
Drift isn’t talking to her anyways. The thought isn’t bitter. No, AJ had gotten a lot less bitter and jealous recently. Not for any fading feelings, but AJ just… sincerely didn’t think that Drift would hurt her like that.
It’s worrying for her to trust anyone like that. But AJ finds herself enjoying the feeling, closing her eyes peacefully as the gentle buzz of the alcohol mutes her thoughts slightly. Drift can talk to whoever she wants, can lean on anyone. At the end of the day, AJ is confident that she is the one who Drift goes to in the evenings.
AJ is the one who smiles while they’re kissing, Drift is the one who kisses her. AJ is the one who Drift comes to, crying, when another nightmare has scared her. (AJ, though, is the one who wraps her hands around Drift’s waist and nuzzles into the nature mage’s neck, when, later on, they’re asleep in AJ’s bed.)
“Wow. You’re like, reflectin’ and shit.” Drift’s voice floats towards her, and AJ’s eyes pop open. She rolls her head to the side to look at Drift, a smile making her lips twitch upwards. The slur of the word reflecting brings warmth to AJ’s throat, and she finds herself staring at Drift for a moment, without responding.
“I know, I’m thinking, open book. ‘M just like you now.” AJ says, clipping her words, and getting distracted by Drift’s half-lidded eyes. It’s an attractive look on her, as much as AJ loves the amber of Drift’s eyes, the look is flirtatious, and AJ feels flirted with.
“Thinking is overrated,” Drift sticks her tongue out, and AJ huffs a laugh, “Now I’m you.”
AJ just smiles back in response, the sweetness of it tasting like honey in her mouth. “What do you think of me, open book? You think I hate thinking?”
“Could’ve fooled me,” shrugging, eyes glimmering, “You’re kind of an idiot.”
AJ’s smile grows wider, and she rolls her eyes. “Oh really. How’d you come to that conclusion, then?”
“Lyin’ about stupid shit, wrecking your own life for no reason,” Drift mumbles, her smile fading, “Seems idiotic to me.”
“You’re right,” soft, aching, AJ knows Drift is right, “It is pretty stupid, isn’t it.”
“Mm,” Drift hums halfheartedly. “You’re not that stupid though I guess. The things you do are.”
AJ has half a mind to argue, and then realizes why is she arguing about herself being stupid?
“Sure, Drift. Sure.” AJ just accepts it, and Drift’s eyes open a little further at the call of her name.
“I like when you do that,” eyes a little more sobered up, but in the way that screams honesty, “when you call me by my name.”
“What?” AJ’s words are breathless, and Drift looks away, as if realizing what she’s said, and opens her mouth to answer—
“Seven minutes in heaven everyone!” The, frankly, unbearable sound of Sausage’s voice rings out in the room, interrupting whatever Drift was about to say. AJ feels unimaginable wrath towards him at that moment.
Shelby takes Drift’s attention as soon as AJ drops it, and the woman leads Drift by the hand towards the growing circle of people sitting on the floor.
AJ shouldn’t play. She’s not drunk enough to actually enjoy it, not drunk enough to push away the thoughts of how she’s actually wrecking her life.
Drift is there, though.
AJ follows the two women over, and sits down to Drift’s right. Shelby is still holding Drift’s hand, a fact which AJ can see that Shelby is utterly riveted by. AJ, not so much. But she sates herself with the same ideas as before. Drift wants to hold AJ’s hand. It’s a fact of life (If AJ got that lucky for a lifelong love, that is.).
“Okay, you know the drill,” Sausage flourishes his hands whimsically, gesturing to the empty glass bottle in his hand, “Spin it, get in the closet for seven minutes. What you do is up to you, but please,” Sausage grins wickedly, “remember all of us are out here, and the closet might not be as noise-proofed as you think.”
There are a couple hoots from the drunker people in the circle, but most of the students that AJ can see are rolling their eyes or groaning. AJ glances at Drift, trying to gauge the nature mage’s reaction. Drift eyes are… interested, which makes AJ a little nervous. Physicality was where she crossed the line with things like this. She was allowed to be jealous if Drift kissed someone else, or wanted to kiss someone else.
“Who wants to go first?” A volunteer basis, and AJ should really volunteer, because it would get the experience over with. Then, she could make some excuse about being all hot and bothered about what happened in the closet, and leave. So she didn’t have to witness anything else.
Like Drift’s turn.
So AJ opens her mouth, ready to volunteer, when-
“I’ll go.” a voice from AJ’s left. Drift. AJ’s head turns, to catch the movement of Drift’s arm as she raises her hand. Drift catches AJ’s stare. “What? It’ll be fun.”
Oh, it’ll be fun, alright. Fun to hear Drift makeout with Shelby in the closet.
Sausage places the bottle down in the center of the circle like it’s somehow a god in disguise. AJ is mildly disgusted by the reverence. It doesn’t even have alcohol in it. It’s useless.
But Drift shifts forwards, stumbling, (Shelby catches her) and Drift…
Spins the bottle.
And it’s a blur of glass clanking against the ground, and AJ just can’t bear to watch. So she looks away.
The bottle settles.
No one speaks. No one speaks, not even the person who it landed on.
AJ looks back over at the bottle.
It’s pointing at her.
A wave of relief and triumph washes over AJ, and if she feels herself light up about it, she ignores it, instead looking towards Drift, who is looking at AJ expectantly.
“So,” grinning, standing up, brushing dirt off of her pants, “You gonna get in the closet with me, open book?”
Drift blinks at AJ. Once, twice, and then AJ is embarrassed because people are staring now. So she offers Drift a hand, and the nature mage takes it, stumbling after AJ.
Unsurprisingly, no one says anything. It’s not like they’re well-liked as a pairing. AJ doesn’t blame them, if she knew two angsty lesbians who couldn’t face their feelings, she would probably be mildly annoyed too.
“There’s a timer,” Sausage reminds, grinning wickedly, “Don’t get too carried away.”
AJ, unfortunately, finds the crude joke a little funny, so she flashes a toothy grin as she opens the door for Drift to walk into the closet first.
“We’ll try, copper arm.”
Then, she shuts the door. It’s dark, and if AJ wasn’t such a brave (emotionally constipated) person, she might get a little claustrophobic. Drift stands opposite to her, AJ’s eyes adjusting to the lighting.
She squints almost desperately, trying to make out the lines of Drift’s face. Was she disappointed at all? Had she been eager to get Shelby alone, away from the prying eyes of AJ?
A snort, followed by a laugh, suddenly pierces the air. It’s not loud, it’s barely even a noise at all. But Drift practically giggles, and AJ suddenly feels like she’s flying on a dragon again. The wind rustling her hair, the pounding of her heart, and the breathlessness of being so far up.
“Why are you making that face?” Drift laughs, like AJ is the funniest thing in the world.
AJ would make herself into a clown if it meant she could make Drift laugh forever.
“Hard to see in the dark.” AJ says vaguely, gesturing to Drift, which somehow makes the nature mage laugh harder.
“Don’t crows see well in the dark?” Drift says, and AJ thinks wryly that she really must be drunk, if she’s forgetting that AJ is actually, mostly, human.
Besides that, “You’re thinking of owls, Drifty. Owls see good in the dark.”
Drift squints back at AJ, before shaking her head, as if to say I don’t believe you.
“Drifty,” Drift sing-songs back at AJ, her voice melodic, and lilting, “that’s me.”
AJ can’t stop the smile that twitches her lips. Something about this, something about Drift’s silhouette, just now sharpening slightly within the darkness, makes AJ feel… warm inside.
“That’s you.” AJ manages to choke out, around the lump in her throat. It sounds a little flustered, and the tinkerer prays Drift doesn’t notice.
Drift is wasted, so, of course, she doesn’t. But a flicker of something—recognition—crosses Drift’s face, which makes AJ’s chest ache suddenly, and harshly. Drift knows AJ finds her silly sing-songing attractive, and knows that AJ’s stare isn’t just wanting for something physical anymore.
It’s a feeling that scares her. Not that she wants it, but that Drift knows.
But, ever merciful, Drift doesn’t speak a word of it. Instead, she just shuffles a bit closer, leaning in, as if AJ is pulling her by a rope towards the tinkerer. AJ almost wishes she was, for a moment. But, she prefers the way that Drift leans in of her own accord.
“Your name is so… un-nicknameable,” Drift frowns, “Fix it.”
“‘Fix it’?” AJ laughs back, and Drift intertwines their fingers as AJ’s breath catches from her laughter. “How would I do that?”
“Make something up. A nickname.” Drift insists, “You’re good at that.”
“That I am, open book,” AJ grins, “You want me to make a nickname for myself?”
“It’s your fault it’s so difficult. Take responsibility.” Drift says simply, sidling a little closer to AJ. If the tinkerer didn’t know any better, she might think that Drift was gearing up to kiss her. But Drift just sinks into the tinkerer’s warmth, not quite touching, but far closer than before. Now, AJ reaches out, taking Drift’s other hand in her empty one. Their connected hands swing between them.
“Alright, I will.” AJ rolls her eyes, and begins thinking. Drift’s sort of right, ‘AJ’ isn’t good for making a pet name. Still, she likes it better than her real name, so AJ doesn’t care very much.
Anna Jane was an ugly name, and it never fit her much.
Plus, that was hard to think of pet names for as well.
AJ considers, for a moment, dramatically declaring that Drift can just call AJ hers, and AJ would be satisfied with that. Except, she’s a little tipsy, so it might come off a little more honest than teasing. So AJ makes a show of sighing.
“You’re right,” shrugging, Drift inching just a little bit closer. “I can’t think of anything either.”
Drift’s eyes glimmer with triumph, and AJ can practically feel the warmth of her smile hitting the tinkerers face.
“Anyways,” AJ changes the subject, “you were saying something earlier? Something about liking when I said your name?”
Drift’s eyes shift. If AJ couldn't barely make them out, she would still know, with the crackle of tension in the air. Drift looks away, and leans back a little.
“It’s nothing.” Drift insists, her words slurring so the I in it’s sounds almost silent.
It’s not nothing if you’re thinking it.
AJ banishes the thought from her mind. It was dangerous, giving people’s opinions any weight. She’d do good not to let Drift’s opinions, thoughts, or feelings affect her.
AJ furtively thinks that it’s a little too late for that defense mechanism.
“Try me,” AJ raises a brow, “I’ve heard a whole lot of nothing.”
In her experience, often the nothings were the things AJ wanted to hear about the most.
It suddenly occurs to her that they are, indeed, on a timer. She wonders how long it’s been. Can’t have been more than five minutes, right? If that’s true, AJ has two minutes left, until Drift will probably be gone, off to hang off of Shelby’s shoulder for the remainder of the night.
“It just feels a little more personal.” Drift shifts again, leaning harder against the back of the closet wall. “You know?”
“Can’t say I’m familiar with the feeling.” AJ’s smile is slight, and Drift stares at it for a second before frowning.
“If I called you ‘crow girl’ all the time, it would feel special if I called you AJ.“ Drift says, as if it explains anything. “It just feels like you… care a bit more.”
AJ fights to keep her lips from pressing themselves into a grimace. Yes. AJ cared more. It was ruining her life, actually. It leaked from her seams like she was about to burst open, her every movement creaking and aching from it.
“Yeah?” AJ murmurs, like she had never considered it. Like it wasn’t on her mind all the time. And AJ takes a deep breath. Maybe it’s time to say it? Say something about how much she really does care? “You know that’s true all the-”
“Seven minutes is up!” Sausage pops the ‘p’, flinging open the closet door, and AJ feels her heart drop as Drift’s hands quickly leave hers.
Sausage gives them a once over, before frowning slightly. “Well, that looks boring.”
AJ tries to say something, tries to shoot back a question about what exactly he was expecting to see. But she opens her mouth, and nothing comes out.
“Yeah, well, we weren’t eager to show everyone.” Drift says dryly, exiting the closet first. It seems like whatever tension, whatever warm air and nervousness was between them before, has escaped through the closet door and into the chilled air of the larger room.
AJ shivers, although she’s not really, truly, actually cold. No, she shivers from the unseen chill of being alone again, as Drift makes her way back towards the circle of people.
AJ stares after her, like Drift has taken the tinkerer’s ability to think along with her. Then, she catches Sausage staring right back at AJ, a smile twitching his lips. She forces herself to unfreeze, forces her feet back towards the circle of people.
Drift isn’t talking to Shelby. No, the nature mage isn’t saying anything, but her hand has found Shelby’s again, and her head is resting on the nomad’s shoulder.
And AJ is back where she began. Only, now Drift’s hand, holding Shelby’s, doesn’t feel as inconsequential as it did, nearly seven minutes ago.
AJ needs another drink.