Archive of Our Own

Hypothetical

/hy·​po·​thet·​ih·​cal/

:being based on a suggested idea or theory; being or involving a hypothesis

| a hypothetical situation

| "Hypothetically, would you want to go on a date with me?" The girl asked nervously.

-begin of chat-

-end of chat-

Marine opens the link, and immediately lets out a laugh at the title, "Hypotheticals". She hasn't even heard the song, and she already mentally commends Gabby for her commitment to the bit.

She presses play without even a sliver of hesitation, and she lets the song settle over her.

When Marine was first picking up English in preparation of, hopefully, one day going to the W, she'd done it in two ways.

When she first started, she watched all her favourite shows in English with English subtitles. It'd made for an…interesting challenge. Then, she read English translations of her favourite books, which had felt like she was going insane most of the time.

In one of the books she read, one word stuck out like a sore thumb. Hypothetically.

When she's first read it, her brows had furrowed, lips moving silently as she tried to sound the word out. She typed it into a dictionary website she'd found, reading the meaning twice over and then playing the audio and repeating the word thrice, her voice loud in the silence of her apartment.

It quickly became a favourite word of hers, a shield she could hide behind when facing uncertainty. Post a question as a hypothetical, as something that is only fictitious, and things felt that much safer to ask.

Obviously, we're at the beginning of something…

When she first met Gabby, it was with an air of confidence that came with familiarity of territory. They'd met in her terrain, after all—a training camp for France—so she had no reason to be nervous.

After the first week, she knew it was starting; the beginning of the fall for Gabby. Stupid, gorgeous, kind, lovely Gabby.

But I believe we might be on to something…

Gabby was much more comfortable speaking English than she was. It wasn't that her French was bad per se, but French to Gabby was English to Marine: a language that she thought in, breathed in, existed in. Even after spending so long with the French team, she was still, at the end of the day, a Franco-American, and English, at least for the time, was still her predominent language.

Either way, it'd been ages since Marine had needed the foreign language, but for Gabby, she slowly relearned it.

Her muscle memory was faint, but helpful. Bits and pieces came back easily, and hypothetically still came in first in the race for her favourite word.

Been imaginin' all the things you and I could do…

Most night, Marine stared at the ceiling to fall asleep. She'd play out these hypotheticals over and over, the same few scenarios that always left her wanting for more.

In one, she was on a date with Gabby. A movie theatre, tucked away in the corner as far back as they could go. Their fingers are intertwined in between them. It's so easy, so simple, but it feels like infinity.

In another, Gabby's with her in her room—the one in her parents' home. Their legs are pressed against each other as they giggle quietly in the dead of night like teenagers at a sleepover. Marine presses a kiss to Gabby's nose, and she feels Gabby's face flush, so she does over and over.

Immediate action is unnecessary…

Quickly, she realised Gabby was never going to be the one to broach the subject of their relationship. While she was absolutely fearless on the court, off of it, she was like a baby deer, shy and tender.

Still, she wasn't ready to ask yet, either. They'd only just met less than 6 months ago, in May, and while they'd grown infinitely close—winning a bronze medal in the Olympics does that—she still wasn't sure she could do it just yet.

And maybe, just maybe, part of her wasn't quite sure Gabby felt the same. Despite knowing the Franco-American's aversion to being the first to talk about scary things, she wondered, momentarily, if it wasn't aversion at all, but a lack of feelings.

She was, honestly, content to wait a little longer.

It's a fatal attraction it's a little scary…

When Marine had realised she was falling—truly, actually, falling—she'd run to Alexia, like she always did.

Or, well, she'd run in the the metaphorical sense, at least. She and Alexia were in different parts of France by then, both of them going back home for the winter.

"I think you already know, Rine." Alexia had said kindly. "You wouldn't be asking me if you didn't."

"But it's just…god, she's everything, Lex. I feel insane." Marine rambled, breathless just at the thought of Gabby. She hadn't even looked at the screen, her phone lying limply in her outstretched hand as she laid on her bed like a starfish.

"And have you told her that?" Alexia fired back. At Marine's telltale silence, she sighed. "You can't possibly be expecting her to make the first move. That girl was scared to even ask to join us for lunch, and that was during the Olympics, when we'd already been friends for a while. You think she's gonna ask you out?"

And, okay, look, Marine knew, logically, that this was true. Gabby was terribly shy, even if she was good at turning on her extroverted mask when out and about. Yet her thoughts liked to twist things the other way. She wasn't asking because she didn't like Marine back.

Still, hearing it from Alexia instead of from her endless spiralling thoughts was much more reassuring that it was true.

"I know, I know. But…" Marine let out a frustrated groan. "I don't even know if she's gay. What if she's straight and I ruin my friendship with her for nothing?"

"Mar. Sweetheart. Even someone with a broken gaydar would be able to tell she's gay." Alexia said.

"How do you know that? She's only ever dated men." Marine replied, sounding almost wistful.

"Have you seen her exes? They all look so…flamboyant. Twink-like." Alexia snorted. "Like a lavender marriage."

"Not helping!" Marine called through gritted teeth.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry. But really, Mar, nothing will happen if you don't do it yourself." Alexia emphasised.

"I know." Marine mumbled.

I've got a plan A and I got a plan B, and if it's absolutely necessary, we'll go to plan C…

When Marine gets anxious, she plans. Meticulous, intricate, down to every detail plans that are, often, foolproof.

So, when she decided to ask Gabby out, properly committing to it, it came with its own set of plans.

Plan A had around 20 variants, based on possible things Gabby would say. Depending on what she said, they would either be dating, or overflow into plan B, where she would try and salvage their friendship if all went to shit. And, in plan C was…well, she just hoped they didn't get there.

And I can't be sure, no, maybe not, but I think it's worth a shot.

Marine didn't like to rush, though, so she waited until they were reunited for EuroBasket to ask, all the way in February. Yet, even when February rolled around, every time she thought about it, she still felt her heart feel like it was trying to jump right out her chest.

When she'd finally spat the words out, it had come out much more unsure than her plan had called for.

"Would you…uhm…" Marine had started in shaky English, swallowing before continuing, "would you, hypothetically, wanna be my girlfriend?"

Gabby had proceeded to not say anything for a beat, then promptly burst out laughing. Marine had frowned.

"Did I say something wrong?" Gabby'd shook her head, quickly composing herself.

"No, no. Your English is fine." Gabby had quickly reassured. "Hypothetically, yes, I'd love to be your girlfriend." Gabby couldn't help the last little chuckle, and Marine knew she was being teased, but she couldn't figure out why.

"Then why'd you laugh?" Marine had started to pout.

"Just never been asked to be someone's hypothetical girlfriend. Usually they ask me to be their actual girlfriends." Gabby had let out a small giggle.

"…Fine then." Marine had huffed, rolling her eyes. "Gabby, will you be my girlfriend?" She'd said with much more confidence, any fear of rejection already dissipated.

"I would love to be your girlfriend." Gabby had smiled, dimples forming like little crescent moons in her cheeks and chin.

I've been writing your name down next to mine.

Marine grabbed the pen, glancing back at Gabby with the fondest and softest of smiles, then signed her name on the line. She handed the pen off to Gabby, who quickly did the same, and the judge smiled kindly.

"I now pronounce you both married."

Hypothetically, yes, theoretically, forever.

Marine calls Gabby once the song ends, and the first words out of her mouth are:

"You're quite stupid."

"Thoughts?" Gabby prompts with a smile. Marine rolls her eyes.

"It's a good song." Marine says after a beat.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Oh, and…" Marine smiles mischievously, "hypothetically, I may have stolen 2 more hoodies." Gabby lets out a small, fake, gasp of surprise.

"What? No. Surely not!" She drags each vowel out, making Marine giggle.

"Full of theatrics, you." Marine tells her, and Gabby blinks innocently.

"But really," Gabby sobers, "what'd you think?"

Marine truly, properly pauses to think this time. Her smile doesn't drop, really, just shifts into a more thoughtful expression, reflecting her inner ponder.

"Did you know that, after the first training camp together, I booked English lessons with a teacher online?" Marine asks instead of replying. The question itself is an answer, really—it did what Gabby had intended it to do.

"I didn't, actually." Gabby—okay, Gabby isn't surprised by the news. She'd heard the improvement in Marine's English for herself, after all.

"By that point, I'd been so out of practice with my English already." Marine explains. "And you…you're American."

"Wait…" the cogs start turning in Gabby's face, in time with the grin spreading on her face, "you'd started learning English…for me?"

"Don't make it a thing." Marine warns, eyes narrowing from a blue sky into a stormy one. Gabby quickly surrenders.

"Sorry, sorry."

"I learned it because I knew I wanted to go back to the W. But..just a little bit of it was for you. Maybe." Marine explains softly.

"Maybe?" Gabby snorts.

"I will hang up on you."

"I'm sorry!" Gabby covers her mouth, trying to hide even when she can't mute the laughter.

"When…" Marine hesitates. Gabby grows quiet and watches patiently. "When I started learning, it was my favourite word. Hypothetical."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. It was like…what's that English slang thing you guys say? When you want to avoid responsibility?" Marine's eyebrows furrow. Gabby takes a beat to think too, lighting up when the words come to mind.

"A cop out?" Gabby fills in, and Marine nods.

"It was like that. I didn't always know what I was saying, so I would use it as a cop out. A…a way to be wrong without ever really being wrong, I guess." Marine looks away towards the end, refusing to meet Gabby's eyes even through the screen.

"Ma chérie." Gabby's voice melts, and it's warm enough that Marine dares to look, to see and be seen. Gabby's brown eyes have gone all doe-like.

"You're making it a thing." Marine mutters.

"My bad. Continue." Marine pauses, figuring out where to go from there, then shakes her head.

"That's about it." She says curtly, and Gabby lets out a short laugh at her fiancé's abruptness.

"When you proposed," Gabby starts slowly, the thought forming as she speaks, "you didn't say it. You didn't pose it as a hypothetical."

"Yes." Marine agrees. "For one thing, I did it in French, so it was a lot less scary. But I also knew you would say yes, so the English parts didn't feel so scary either. My proposal was more of me wanting to do something for you, after all. You'd already proposed. I had nothing to fear."

"That's why you were nervous when you asked me to be your girlfriend?" Gabby scrunches her nose. "How did you not know I liked you?"

"For one thing, you weren't openly gay yet." Marine reminds her. "And for another, you did not make things easier. Your signals were like…a microscopic light bulb in a cloud of smoke."

"Wh—no they weren't!" Gabby argues. "We literally had movie nights every night we were together."

"So? Friends have movie nights!"

"I don't have daily movie nights with my friends! Also, we watched Spirited Away."

"…Your point?" Marine asks dryly. Gabby makes an offended noise at Marine's words.

"My point is it's my favourite movie and it means everything to me." Gabby huffs. "You know that. I even watched those trashy rom-coms without falling asleep because you wanted to."

"See, now I know you're full of shit because you were way more invested in those rom-coms than I ever was." Marine accuses.

"I can neither confirm nor deny this." Gabby replies without hesitation, and Marine rolls her eyes, like always. She checks the time, giving Gabby a pointed look when she sees the 11.03PM glaring back at her. The newest Valkyrie had been exploiting Marine and her forgetting Gabby's time zone was different from her own, having grown accustomed to sharing one time zone during the international season.

"Okay, well, you need to sleep now, because it's far too late for you to be awake. And you have a game tomorrow."

"Hypothetically, if I didn't, what would happen?" Gabby asks with a smile of faux innocence. Marine resists the urge to throw a pillow at her phone.

"Hypothetically, I'll kidnap Halle and never buy you another pain au chocolat." Marine informs her matter-of-factly. She'd learned early on that threatening Gabby's cat and food were two of the most effective ways to get Gabby where she needed her to be.

Gabby lets out the deepest and most dramatic of sighs, "Fine, then. If I must."

"Talk to you tomorrow, love."