tw: fade to black spice?? ahaha (you were warned, gay things on the way)

we shared a brief look and just gave ourselves to the night/we'll just fight to be the ones we hate

— "Opportunistic," Hippo Campus

---

I'm almost completely sobered up when I ask Athens for her Instagram. With a quirked eyebrow and soft smile, she says, "Sure."

Which has somehow led to us judging other people's accounts. I don't really enjoy the verbal judgements, but Athens and I have similar senses of humor, enough that our burns are landing with each other. And begging pressed against her, side by side with the La-Z-Boy chair fully extended, is something that I crave, both physically as well as mentally. She's flirting with me. Hard. If I play this right, I might get some. And I'd love to get some with Athens.

"This girl is so fucking toxic," I tell her. "She has this cosplay account on Insta, which is completely fine—if I had a good enough face and body for cosplay, you can bet I'd be posting pics and telling random guys on Instagram to buy me things off my Amazon wishlist."

"Fuck, that works?"

"For Janice, yes. But largely because she treats ethnicity like cosplay." I click on a recent photo, where Janice Walker has dolled herself up in the most Asian-fishingest makeup you've ever seen. "This girl is not Asian."

"Fuuuck," Athens says, taking my phone out of my hands. Janice stares back, with her misleading eyeliner and peace fingers. "That's kinda terrifying."

"Yep. And people pay her for this." I scroll to another recent photo, Lola Bunny, but still Asian-fishing.

"Girl."

"Mmhmm." I love this—doing absolutely nothing. Somehow, I'm not thinking about the kinds of things I want to think about, like my mom, my dead sister, or what the traveling vacuum sales economy is like.

"Okay okay, my turn." Athens scans the room, where everyone is currently focused on a tiny girl with curly green hair, playing The Record Player Song on the ukulele. (Which I feel is either very self-aware or very ironic.) Next to her, I spot Ananya going ham on a harmonica. From this distance at least, it doesn't suck. "Okay, here."

She begins to type in a name when the garage door flies open, and an old woman in a nightgown and honest to god cap, like she's Wee Willie Winkie or something, stands in the doorway with a sour, grim expression.

"Athens!" she calls, scanning the small crowd of silent teenagers till her eyes land on us in the chair.

Although she says nothing, I can feel Athens sigh through her nose. "Sorry, Gram Gram, did we wake you up?"

"No," says Gram Gram wearily. "But I think everyone should be headed home. It's almost three a.m.."

"Of course," Athens says, standing from the La-Z-Boy as gracefully as one possibly can. "Alright, everybody, let's get going."

No one says anything as they pack up. Someone stuffs a melodica inside a little black case, and several people fiddle with their acoustic guitars until they're satisfied, then proceed to book it out the front door.

Athens doesn't move to help anyone, she just stands there and supervises everyone leaving. Her arms are crossed against her chest. She has faint black hairs along her forearms that seem significantly darker in the LED lights, and I notice a dark freckle right next to her elbow.

I continue to take in her small, minute details—another freckle on her back, right on the left side of her spine; some closed up piercings on her ears that I can barely see—while everyone clears out. Ananya is the last out the door, her arm around the green-haired girl's shoulders. I see her wink at Athens; I don't see if Athens winks back.

Then she turns to face me, her expression as imperceptible as always. "You play guitar?"

I nearly laugh at her, but I'm sobered up enough to be out of my heavy giggles phase. "Not that I'm aware of, no."

"Not anything?"

"Not anything."

"Hmm. Well." Athens heads back to the chair, where we were pre-Gram Gram intrusion, and points at it for me to sit down. "How familiar are you with Nirvana?"

"Very," I tell her, and sit down.

Athens picks up her acoustic guitar and hands it to me, silently adjusting my hands and arms so that I'm holding it correctly. "Prop it up a little bit with your knee? Good."

Look. I am not saying I have a praise kink. But hearing the way Athens says "good" just about makes me need to cross my legs.

She walks behind the chair and loops her arms over the back of it, circling around me. "This is the 'Come as You Are' riff," she tells me, reaching for the fretboard and slowly guiding my fingers. I follow her lead. "Mmhmm. Good."

God fucking dammit. I swear, I do not have a praise kink.

After showing me the pattern a few times, I try it myself. I can't get it as smoothly alone, but I manage to get it in part. I'm happy with just that, but I'm also a little embarrassed with how slow and clunky I am.

"Sorry," I tell her. "I've never done this before."

"You're all good," she assures me.

I try the riff a few more times, but it just won't seem to click in my brain. All I can focus on is how Athens is now leaning her head against my shoulder. Her hair falls across her face and over my Hawaiian shirt, and her cheek is warm through the thin fabric, and her eyelashes are so lovely and long, and I notice a stray one on her cheek, and I want to reach out and brush it away for her. To tell her to make a wish.

"Why'd you stop?" she whispers.

"Sorry." My fingers don't move. I'm frozen.

I feel her soft exhale against my collarbone. "It's okay," she says. "We can stop if you want."

"What if I don't want to stop?"

Her laugh shakes me. "Oh really?"

I feel like I'm ice skating for the first time—but doing an alright job. "Can I kiss you?" Athens asks.

I don't respond verbally, just turn my face to meet hers. Our lips meet, gently at first, before we quickly drop the charade and press harder into each other. One of my hands stays on the neck of the guitar but the other curves around to play with a thick lock of Athens' waves. She's hanging over the back of the chair, and for a second, the image of her feet dangling ever so slightly in the air makes me want to laugh.

She pulls back. "Not bad," she says.

I smile.

Athens walks around the chair and pulls her hair back in a lopsided, messy ponytail. Her smile is reserved yet entirely sure of itself, like a politician or something, but not morally corrupt. "You're not so bad yourself," I tell her. And it's true, she's not. Pretty good, actually.

She takes the guitar from my hands and sets it on the ground. "Glad to hear it," she says. I see her begin to lean into me, so I lean right back into her. She grabs my face with both hands, and we're kissing again, my heart pounding hard in my ears, my stomach tying itself in warm, fuzzy knots.

And then she gets on the couch, straddling me lightly, and I swear I can't breathe. "Is this okay?" she asks in a breathy, deep sigh.

"Yes. Yes. Absolutely."

This seems to be enough for her. She goes back to kissing me so strong that my skeleton might collapse inside my body. I don't want to come off too strong so I just keep my hands on her thighs—oh, god, her glorious thighs—and let her take charge.

A/N - how y'all feeling about this chapter?

i hope you're all doing well. this time of year can be stressful for a looot of people. so definitely tell me how you're doing!!

i for one went on a date today?? kinda???? it was nice. he (i'm pan, why do i feel like i need to clarify that rn)  was like "let's go to a bookstore" and i kinda geeked out over a lot of books and then he bought me one, sooooooo even though i have a giant final tomorrow, i'm having a pretty aight day. i hope you are too because YOU ALL DESERVE GOOD THINGS.

see you soon!