Chapter Text
Tamsy was down on this plane strictly on business.
That was the mantra she turned to before getting distracted by yet another earthly pleasure. Local trinkets, clothing, food, drinks, people. By the time she found herself indulging, she had another justification ready: this was all for the sake of her mental health, and therefore in service of the world, since the world’s well-being depended on her mental health. Simple as that.
Still, some pleasures were difficult even for her to justify, especially when they could so easily jeopardize everything she’d worked so patiently and diligently to build.
There was nothing wrong with Rudo trusting her, with Rudo thinking they were friends. It would hurt the girl all the more once she learned how carelessly she had dispensed that trust.
And lately, she had been drawn to Tamsy like Sleeping Beauty to the sharp spindle, eager to awaken the curse. But here at HQ, it was neither the time nor the place. Whatever wounds Rudo might get right now, they’d be quickly licked clean by the loyal pack surrounding her. Playing with her would be pointless. Reckless, even.
But god, was it tempting.
“What’s taking you so long?”
“Coming.” Tamsy shut the bottom drawer of the dresser and stood. “Catch!”
Rudo did not execute the command: instead, she curled up like a hedgehog and caught the flying t-shirt with her snout. Tamsy laughed musically.
The girl shook out the bundle of fabric and began studying the print on the shirt, huddling cozily into her corner. Rudo had long since claimed that spot. Tsk, no shame whatsoever. Tamsy perched beside her, on the edge of her own bed as if she were the guest here.
“Is this some kind of band?” Rudo mumbled, scrunching her nose in that funny way of hers.
“Impulse buy. Don’t overthink it.” She settled onto her side and watched Rudo from under her lashes. The girl was solemn as a soldier, lips moving soundlessly over whatever words were written on the fabric. Then they pressed together, and she began to fold the thing.
“I’ll try it on later. Thanks…”
Tamsy clicked her tongue as her hand drifted toward Rudo’s gloves. “That won’t do. What if it doesn’t fit?”
Rudo lifted the half-folded fabric into the air. “I’ll give it back, then! And anyway, you said it was too small for you.”
“And I’m supposed to wait until then?” Tamsy pouted and tucked her ear into the nest of her arm. “I’m not a clothing factory. If you don’t like it, give it back.”
Rudo grumbled and, leaving the garment in her lap, reached down for the hem. Tamsy held back her snicker this time.
She could tell herself all she wanted that she was here for the love of the game, but the victories were so sweet, too, even the small ones. Even if Rudo tried to cover herself, futilely, with those gangly elbows. In fact, her flustering was the real danger. Didn’t she understand? The sweeter she looked, the deeper Tamsy wanted to bite.
When Rudo straightened, a pinkish crease remained in the hollow of her stomach, a mark of that awful posture of hers. Tamsy wondered if this was what people meant by cuteness aggression — the impulse to stuff her with cakes and chocolate. But the sight vanished quickly, embraced by the gifted t-shirt.
Rudo rested her chin on her own chest, as if that made it easier to examine. Then she spread her arms quizzically.
“Well?”
Tamsy didn’t even spare her a glance. “Looks fine to me.” With a sigh, she sat up and loosened her tie. “Depends on how you feel.”
“It’s fine.” Rudo squirmed and hurried to change back. Interesting: loitering in Tamsy’s room no longer embarrassed her. Occupying the bed no longer embarrassed her. But changing clothes? That was still too much.
“I—” Rudo started, then froze mid-motion. Tamsy didn’t even need to turn around: of course Rudo’s eyes had dropped to where Tamsy was already unbuttoning her own shirt.
She feigned confusion. “Hm? What was that?”
Rudo averted her gaze. “I said it’s ugly.” The borrowed shirt had snagged on its way off, caught on the edges of her gloves. “I’ll only wear it to bed.”
It couldn’t have been better. Tamsy had worn it to bed herself, left her scent on it, her warmth. If Rudo wasn’t lying, something of hers would be pressed against that small, furious heart tonight, rising and falling with every breath. No prying hands to tear the thorny vines entangling the sleeping princess. At this rate, Tamsy would promote herself to prince. Prince would do, yes. She still had a king to serve.
She was done with the buttons. Fixed a bra strap on her shoulder with an air of boredom, while Rudo had finally wrestled free. This bare proximity seemed to bother her, though, because she blurted out:
“Wait till I leave, you!!”
So brazen. Her father had clearly taught her no manners.
“You’re giving orders now? This is my room,” Tamsy said. Her fingers crept like spider legs across the blanket. “I’ve been sweating all day, you know…”
And then — snap: with a deft grip, the victim was caught, and Rudo’s own t-shirt vanished from her lap. By the time she yelped, Tamsy was already at the far edge of the bed, laughing. But the plain tee returned to its rightful owner without much resistance.
“Jerkface,” Rudo mumbled, earning herself a pinch to the ribs and letting out another yelp.
Tamsy snorted and unbuttoned a cuff, loosening the fabric. “Quit yelling. The walls aren’t soundproof.”
Rudo turned her back to her with a scoff, shoulder blades jutting beneath her sports top. Tamsy had half a mind to snap the tight hem, but decided to ease off the tormenting for now. After all, Rudo wasn’t above throwing punches, even at her seniors, and as much as Tamsy rejoiced at that, the bruise on her side still hadn’t faded.
Instead, she indulged in a well-deserved staring. No way her fingers could meet around that waist — not without an embrace. But with enough force? Quite possibly. With enough force, anything was possible, and the girl was squishable as a fruit.
No. A berry. Small enough to burst between thumb and forefinger. But this berry was about to retreat back into its peel.
Tamsy extended her hand, wrist up. “Help me with this? Sorry.”
Rudo turned with her usual sour expression and crumpled the poor t-shirt under her arm, struggling with the simple button, the first of which Tamsy had already managed herself.
Her ribs played peek-a-boo with every shallow breath. The overly prominent jut on her throat dipped and bobbed with a swallow. Tamsy mirrored the gesture absently, then forced her gaze down and crossed her legs. Enough for now. Too much sweetness could turn the stomach.
She breathed out a thank you and reached for her shoulders, pulling the button-up off. Rudo’s pouty face was framed by her hair, white as sugar singed at the edges, now plastered flat by the collar of her t-shirt.
“Geez, how many piercings do you have…?”
Tamsy didn’t catch on at first. Then it clicked: Rudo must have been uncomfortable with the scars more than with the nudity. Those bright eyes had chosen to glance at the navel jewelry instead, and the question was a civil redirect. Very considerate. A-minus in etiquette. Tamsy reached under the pillow and pulled out her sweater.
“Jealous?”
“What am I, stupid.” Rudo crossed her arms over her chest. “You’re all the ones poking holes in yourselves. I don’t want needles anywhere near me.”
“Wise—” a huff “—decision. But don’t knock it till you try it.” Tamsy’s hair had gone static, flattened by the collar just like Rudo’s. She shooed the girl out of the way as she got off the bed. “Tattoos, maybe? You’d look cool with ink.”
Rudo lingered near. "Like… like Enjin?"
Tamsy hung the shirt over the chair. Good thing she’d turned away — could roll her eyes in peace.
“Well, Enjin is an excessive case,” she said. “I was thinking more the style, not the pathology.”
"Path…ology. Is that a disease, or something?"
Tamsy smoothed out the wrinkle-free shirt before sitting down. “Something like that.”
“Why do you not have tattoos, then?”
“Me?” She couldn’t hide the way her voice jumped with surprise. “I haven’t really thought about it. I doubt I’d hold the ink well.”
Not to mention, piercings were easy to remove. And while the Sphere’s dress code and climate mostly demanded thick, concealing layers, risking visible tattoos up there would be even stupider than her current indulgence in the form of Rudo down here.
Still, the thought washed over her in a pink wave. Rudo was just making conversation, of course, she wasn’t seriously considering Tamsy’s body. But it didn’t hurt to dream.
From this cotton candy cloud, Tamsy was jolted by the most mundane thing — a deep stomach growl. Her eyes narrowed in Rudo’s direction.
“Already?” she asked, rocking on the chair.
Rudo stepped back, afraid the chair leg would come down on her toes. Blood gushed to her cheeks. “Piss off, that bar was barely a meal.”
“No, no, I get it, you’re a growing girl and all.” She waved her hand dismissively. “Go downstairs before the crowd gets there.”
Tamsy hadn’t yet figured out how to hint that Rudo should rethink the amount of time she spent with her — not cut it down to nothing, no way — but to tone it down. She had her fill of chilling, suspicious looks from the boss; she didn’t feel like getting them from the girl’s team, too.
Rudo shifted from foot to foot. “Do you want anything?”
“Huh?”
“From the mess hall.”
The chair creaked to attention as Tamsy studied Rudo. Then her smile split at the corners with a sticky little sound, and she made sure to drape both arms over those bony shoulders.
"My little caretaker!..” She nuzzled in, dripping giggles into Rudo’s ear. “Since when are you this kind?”
“Stop!” The protest was smothered against the palm squishing her face. “Forget it, I’m not— ow!”
Teeth sank into the cherry of her cheek.
“I don’t need anything.” They grazed the skin, just shy of breaking it and letting the juice drip. “You’re already terribly sweet.”
A gasp of laughter got muffled as the damn t-shirt was pressed into Tamsy’s face. Like gloves weren’t enough and Rudo needed the extra fabric for a non-contagious distance. When the smothering ceased, Tamsy plucked a few stray hair strands from her mouth, spat out a fleck of lint, and noted, privately, that her scent was indeed there.
“Weirdo.”
The floorboards whined as Rudo toddled to the door, muttering curses and rubbing the dent on her pale cheek. Tamsy’s leg jittered to the beat of her own heart. She paused for a whole second to scold herself for another unchecked impulse, then forgave just as quickly. Better the cheek than something vital. At the threshold, Rudo hesitated, her hand rising to the door handle, then falling away.
Finally, she mumbled a weak,
“Thanks,”
before closing the door, gently, almost as if apologizing to it.
Tamsy chuckled wistfully. The poor soul would wander back soon enough.