A/N: OT3. Thought someone should write this after I watched Who Did It to Trina. I have been trying to write this for days. I normally don't say this about my writing, but this is kind of stupid. And short. Whatever. Enjoy some Catribbie.
They lived in a cheap apartment in the slummiest part of towns. Cat was denied at every job she interviewed for no matter the position, Trina spent her days shopping at thrift stores and buying dinner and her nights working the graveyard shifts as the hostess of a shady karaoke joint known more for its illegal business out back, and Robbie had some lame peon office job. Originally, they lived together because life just worked out like that: Robbie was too much of a nuisance of the budding couple of Jade and Beck and their baby girl, Lily Jour West-Oliver, Trina's parents kicked her out, and Cat's family moved to Bermuda and she had no place else to go.
Things were normal in the beginning. The apartment only had two bedrooms and a single bath, so Cat and Trina shared a room with two twin beds and saw far too much of Robbie than they liked. Robbie's room was smaller than the girl's and he kept Rex locked in a trunk beneath his bed. They interacted on a fairly standard I-knew-you-in-high-school-and-now-we-all-suck-at-life type of way. Trina sometimes bought boys home in the daytime that were gone by the time the sun slipped beneath the horizon and spent the rest of the night in bed, and one time Cat bought home a leering man who thought their apartment was the perfect place to call his wife and break up with her. Robbie never bought anyone home. Ever. They never asked.
Like many beautiful, life-changing things, it started when they were drunk. Robbie had gotten a meaningless raise, only a handful of cents but it meant the world, and Cat had gone to interview at an ice cream shop that seemed hopeful. Trina's life was unchanging, but hey, it was okay. They sat on their couch, the navy blue one with so old and so full of stuffing it was spilling from the edges like foam on coffee, arms locked around each other and laughing. They watched the news and Cat cried a little at all the sad stories.
That was when it started. Robbie, on a reflex that alcohol strengthen, on one that had been brewing since their glory days, reached over and wiped away Cat's tears. A tender moment: Cat's eyes widening, nervous sweat glistening on Robbie's brow. Unceremonious jealousy brewed in Trina, and so she bent over and placed her hand on Cat's knee and wiped away the other strand of tears. Robbie sort of shot a glare Trina's way and Trina short of glared back, but when the eye contact was made, they leaned into each other—tentatively, unsure—and they kissed over Cat's lap while she squealed and clapped.
They worked out fine. Cat didn't get her job, but that was okay because Trina was promoted and now had a day shift so Cat could do their shopping. Cat had always had better taste anyway. They had their nights together, which started off weird with their awkward kissing over others' laps and the fight for attention, but eventually delved into a cute little relationship. Robbie was dying of happiness, Cat of love, and Trina of adornment. Days at work felt too long, nights alone too short and they let themselves forget—almost—their life, and what failures they had become.
They decided to announce themselves at Lily Jour West-Oliver's third birthday party, a pleasant deal in the West-Oliver's huge gardens behind their slightly Gothic mansion, the type where all the girls wore pretty sundresses and all the boys had double popped collars. Robbie, Cat, and Trina sat at a table by the pool and watched fabulous people swim, including old friends and unfamiliar faces.
In the hour between the cake and the presents is when they approached Beck and Jade who were sitting by the house with their little child between them. A perfect family they made, attractive and beautiful, and maybe this is what inspired the words to tumble from Cat and Trina and Robbie's mouths:
"We're together," they all said at once, with different inflictions: Cat's was happiness, squealing and high pitched; Robbie's was nervousness, eyes swimming out of focus but directed towards Beck's face; Trina's was prideful, looking for approval of what she thought was only the best.
"Which ones?" Jade asked, an eyebrow cocked and a hand wrapped around her daughter, who had the same wicked expression.
"Um, all of us," Robbie muttered, still begging Beck with his eyes to say something.
"Oh, like a polyandrous relationship?" Beck said, smirking, relaxing in his white armchair. "That's cool."
Jade shrugged. "Whatever."
This validation was perhaps what they needed, though they would tell people that all they needed was each other. Confidently Robbie would walk down streets with Cat and Trina wrapped around his arms. They wouldn't really attract a lot of stares as they did live in a kinky little part of town. After all, sometimes, three people could love each other equally. Sometimes you would end up with not what you wanted, but what you needed, and all they needed was their cheap apartment, lame jobs, and cute little relationship.