Ice Cream for Kesha was a very Cori episode, IMO. It had a lot of Tandre, but the Cori bits were adorable. I like wondering what Cat's thinking, sometimes, so this fic is taken from a quick moment in that episode.
"I hate everything!"
Tori's words suddenly prompt me to move towards the couch and be supportive. "Well… don't be sad," I say as helpfully as I can. Oh my goodness. I'm touching her shoulders.
"I am sad," Tori says bitterly, standing up, moving away from me and the nice shoulder-touching. Gesticulating dramatically, she continues: "Because I didn't marry a prince, and I don't live in a magic sugar castle, and now we can't win the Kesha concert, which means that I've got to keep being Trina's stupid assistant for 28 more days!"
I chew my lip and look up at her. I think I'm about to cry, and I'm not quite sure why. "Does… does it have to be a prince?"
"What?"
"Could it be a princess?"
"What? Why would I marry a princess?"
The words sting a little, but I realize that most people don't get to even meet royalty. No matter. "I mean… if you lived in a magical sugar castle, it wouldn't make a difference right?"
"What?"
It's like nobody else is in the room. Robbie isn't sitting there, being all… Robbie-like and beat to a pulp on the couch, and Jade isn't seething about something, and Andre and Beck and Rex (and Trina upstairs) are not there either. It's just her and me.
"It could… You could marry the princess and move into a sparkly marzipan castle with a huge twinkly chandelier! And you know, you'd be a princess too."
"But Cat, that can't happen like that." Tori's saying all of this, but it sounds like she isn't completely against the idea!
"Yes, it can. Just because it doesn't happen, doesn't mean it's not real."
I don't know how, but she completely understands suddenly. We're not in the Mr. and Mrs. Tori's mom's house. Huh. Where'd this crown come from? I adjust it and realize it's made completely out of sparkles!
Taking a moment to not marvel at how sparkly I am, I look up and see Tori. Oh. Wow. She's even glitterier than I am at the moment. A grin spreads across my face, and I can see one blossoming on hers too. She murmurs something that sounds like, "you're breathtaking, my princess," and she's kissing me like nobody's ever kissed me before. I don't know why I don't even have to stand on tiptoe, since she's at least six inches taller than me, but I guess princesses can do whatever they want.
Eyelashes are all aflutter, and I don't think they're just mine. I'm in love with the sensation of gathered organza at her waist, and her lips are absolutely, perfectly smooth. She smells of purple, and her tongue tastes like starlight. Nothing makes sense, but it's perfect, absolutely perfect.
And then, all of a sudden, there's this feeling in my heart that's ten times as bad as when my brother told me that the Santa Bunny wasn't real. Lost for words, I say the first thing that comes to mind.
"…That's so sad."