She'd kissed her.

She'd really kissed her.

Historia was on her bed, where she had been for an hour. There was a pillow placed firmly over her face. She was still in her clothes, barring the heels. The heels that put Ymir within kissing range. She hadn't moved after throwing them off and sinking into her bed.

She'd kissed Ymir.

Giddy laughter wanted to bubble up. A bright burst of sunlight in a grey, darkening world. Then all the darkness came back and she was alone in her room. Screaming felt as close as laughter.

She hadn't known, exactly, that she was going to kiss her. She'd thought about it once. Twice. Most of the night. Most of yesterday.

That wasn't the same as doing it.

Very not the same. Fantasies couldn't catch the cocky smile or the way her eyes caught fast on Historia. They didn't undo the rest of the world while her heart pounded like a drumline. They didn't have the slow expansion of her pupils or the warm hum of her breath or. Any of what happened.

They probably would now.

They still wouldn't be the same.

Historia hadn't known where to put her mouth, or her hands. She knew the basics, but she had a hard time thinking when Ymir was that close, and everything had felt too tingly, and it was worse and better than her first backflip.

Their noses had bumped for a second. Historia had decided both hands on Ymir was best. For balance. Neck and shoulder. So she had some help to leverage herself up. Ymir was tall. Unfairly, distractingly tall.

She really hadn't known what to do with her lips, so she just… kissed her. Like she'd thought of doing. Her body had better control of itself when she let it take over. Her lips had found Ymir's, and they were soft and open and shocked, and. Wow?

Was there supposed to be that much wow?

Historia could have stayed there forever. She had the legs for it. She'd wanted to. She'd wanted to keep kissing Ymir until the sun came out.

That… hadn't happened.

Historia pulled the pillow off her head and stared up at the ceiling.

Ymir was bad at everything. Talking to people. Showing affection. Bad, bad, bad, like all of the things Historia thought about doing to her on a daily basis. All the things everyone at the party thought they were already doing. The things they weren't doing because Ymir was bad at asking. Seducing. Only somehow she wasn't. Historia was seduced. Ymir just wasn't doing anything about it. They were both bad at this.

Ymir hadn't kissed back.

Historia wanted to die. A little.

A lot.

She knew Ymir liked her. Maybe not like-like, or any of the other overwhelming feelings Historia had whenever they were in the same room, but physically, there shouldn't have been a problem. Ymir wasn't subtle.

She had looked so surprised. Good surprised, Historia had hoped. How were you supposed to tell? Historia hadn't realized bad surprises were possible with Ymir. Ymir was always surprising her, and it was always good. Always. Every time she came close and stayed added to the list.

Maybe that was it. She wasn't used to being the one surprised.

Was it really a surprise, though? What had she expected, showing up looking like… that?

So much that.

Historia should have jumped her in the guest house. They never should have gone to the party. Uncle Uri was out on his date, and no one would have wanted the scene that looking for them caused. They could have stayed away and…

And.

That was still something Ymir wanted, wasn't it?

Historia wasn't naïve enough to think they'd be girlfriends, or get married, or have a honeymoon in some hotel with soundproofed walls, or even have all of it happen more than once, but she did think that Ymir wanted to have sex with her. Historia wanting more than that didn't have to mean nothing happened at all.

Maybe Ymir disagreed.

That would be the worst.

Historia rolled off her bed and dug through her nightstand for her phone. She ignored the text about writing a piece on the night's gala. She wasn't going to ruin a night of memories by bringing any of them into it. Flicking mindlessly through Frieda's itinerary and stalking Ymir's Facebook page to see if she had said anything that might explain any of how she was feeling sounded like a better end to the evening.

There were twelve alerts from Pieck.

Odd.

There was also Reiner's friend request.

Historia stared at it. She couldn't explain why she hadn't deleted it yet.

His father had been at the gala tonight. She wasn't supposed to know that, but she wasn't supposed to know a lot of things.

He'd glared at Ymir.

Her and Ymir. All night. Before Ymir flipped him off and Historia couldn't help herself.

Historia thought about Reiner grinning when Ymir came up behind her and draped a possessive arm over her shoulder. How he'd bragged about making it out of the house to get the Pride stickers he wallpapered his locker with, then slammed it shut when Bertolt started walking over. She thought about fathers.

She pressed the Accept button on Reiner's request with a savagery that too many people she'd seen tonight deserved and escaped. Maybe she would write an article.

Instantly another alert brightened her screen.

how was the date!

…Was ignoring people ruder when you were friends? Or did that make it okay?

Another message from Pieck popped up, and Historia clicked it out of habit and delayed flight response before it really registered.

A collection of dark photos, surrounded by a color scheme Historia had supposedly had a role in choosing, spat themselves out at her. Brief glances declared them to have something to do with crowns, Ymir's foster brother, and Reiner. Standing about as closely together as she and Ymir had earlier.

Historia blinked.

She peered more directly at one of the photos.

She checked Pieck's comment under it.

a gift to complete your date night

show her these and she will love you forever

Historia didn't have to think about it.

Five seconds later the Instagram link was sent to Ymir. With a smiley face.

Love was probably out, but she'd take what she could get.