Finding more excuses after several weeks of pulling every one she could out of a hat wasn't as simple as it sounded. Lunch, sure, and several days in the usual prep table had been gracefully overtaken by Ymir and people Ymir put up with. Pieck and Porco thought hanging out with Historia was a spectator sport, and Connie and Sasha had invited themselves when they saw an opening, because that's what they did.

Reiner bench pressing both of them wasn't the mood-setter Ymir was looking for, but time together was time together, and they shared zero classes. Lunch and after school. Such were the options, and neither worked great for talking about feelings. Ymir didn't even want to talk about feelings.

"Yet somehow, you keep finding a way," Pieck had said in the wake of one of Ymir's light jogging sessions.

"More like you and Pock keep bringing it up," was Ymir's retort.

What she really needed was some time alone with Historia that didn't leave them both putting up with crap and people they weren't in the mood for.

"That's called a date," Porco had said, head slumped in his pillow while he stopped bothering with keeping his eyes open. Staying up past curfew was a trick his body had somehow never learned. In the bed on the other side of the room, slightly more awake, Marcel had supplied the similarly helpful comment of, "You two text every night. You can't talk to her then?"

The people in her life failed at being remotely helpful with this, and she hoped they realized that. She'd told Pieck as much. Pieck, being Pieck, hadn't cared.

"If you want to kiss her again, your mouth is the one that needs to put in the work." She'd smiled, batting her eyes passively. "I hear you had some trouble with that the first time. Think of this as a much needed learning experience."

Ymir's friends were horrible people with not an ounce of compassion attributed to their combined presence.

The fucking problem, which none of them seemed to get, was that being around Historia made her happy. She liked watching her play games on her phone and teasing her about her jackass parents. She liked having someone around who listened to her bitch about her day. She liked how Historia told her she was being a dick while she squeezed her hand.

She liked the stupid, everyday being together enough that she wasn't actually thinking about kissing her every second of the day, and bringing that up would grind it to a halt, and the only grinding she wanted to do was with Historia.

But with feelings now.

She'd been pretty upfront about the parts that didn't take feelings. The new addition was different, and.

Just and.

Completing that thought was probably the first step to convincing Historia that making out needed to enter their socializing mix. With Ymir being such a catch, it would probably be the only step, but it was a step that kept not fucking happening for reasons of who the fuck knows.

A lifetime of watching other people screw up their feelings and laughing about it said that Ymir was probably the fuck who knew.

So she took up walking Historia to her car after cheerleading practice and thought about completely fucking over the warm glow that had decided it lived in her chest by talking about wanting the warm glow to be a real, tangible thing with labels and anniversaries.

Historia was fine with Ymir hitting her up for sex and breaking into lockers. Ymir asking her to spend the rest of her life with her was something else, also moving pathetically fast and probably creepy. Too bad that was the only way she could think of saying it, so sad, maybe they'd conveniently trip into each other in a secluded space and Historia would temporarily gain five inches of height so they could just accidentally make out and never talk about it.

Late Friday afternoon, as they walked to the hellspot of asphalt that contained Historia's driver, that still hadn't happened. Ymir was shocked. Truly. Shocked.

Sweeping one of the borrowed school towels through her sweat-tousled hair, Ymir struck up some conversation that kept her from thinking about the way Historia looked at her when she did that. "So why the cheerleading?"

"PE credit?"

Another thing Ymir liked about Historia. It was really easy to figure out where to dig.

"Nice try, but you like PE."

Historia was trying not to smile. She had to try now. "How would you know? My PE years weren't at this school."

"Sure, and the fact that you sulk hard enough to bring down thunderclouds whenever your coach cuts practice short doesn't say anything at all about what you like to do with your body," Ymir said. "You never complain about the crap choreography because you get to do flips. You've got jock written all over your prep face."

Historia's shoulder dug into Ymir's side. "The choreography isn't that bad."

"If you cared at all you wouldn't be able to say that." Ymir casually dropped her arm down and around Historia. A quick sight check confirmed she was okay with it. As did the small arm snaking across her back. "So," Ymir continued, stars and lightning and all things frightening lighting up her world, "why did the girl with no cheer pick leading that charge?"

Historia took an exaggeratingly long time feeding her Tamagotchi as the parking lot crept closer.

"Don't tell me it was the cute girls in skirts."

"Jealous?" Historia drawled.

"Please," Ymir said. "They've got nothing on me."

Historia bit her lip and gave the parts of Ymir's body she wasn't glued to a thriceover. Ymir's knees, a little worn out from running, weakened, and Historia's arm around her waist turned into a weirdly stable anchor.

"If you don't give me an answer now I'll just bug you all night," Ymir said. Nary a choked word in hearing.

Reaching the loading zone section of the sidewalk, Historia stopped. Racing to join Ralph or Sannes and leave Ymir behind was real low on the priority list. "Frieda," she said.

"Your sis—?"

"Historia!"

Ymir still, despite Hannah's token efforts, got the track team all over her ass about joining up. She had amazing legs, and everyone wanted them. She was also just plain faster than everyone on the team. Pieck had a passive aggressive stopwatch reading to prove it.

Historia was frozen stiffer than a popsicle. In a fraction of time unobservable by humans later, she had vanished from Ymir's side and left several Olympic records in smithereens.

"Frieda!"

All that was visible of her was a tiny blonde cannonball plunging into a human who would have been dubbed stunning in any other company.

Plus that smile.

Holy shit that smile.

Ymir almost forgot to miss holding her when Historia was smiling like that. She was hugging the tall young lady (Ymir had never actually met anyone before who fit the term, but Frieda was a lady, and not knowing her well enough to determine that wasn't enough to invalidate the description) with a strength usually reserved for repressed homicidal urges, and she was smiling. Really smiling. With light and sunshine spilling out of her face like the radiance of the universe was trapped up inside her.

The sister was hugging her back maybe half as tightly, but no less happily, because there was no way to be in the presence of that smile, to cause that smile, without some of it rubbing off.

"There you are! How was practice?"

Ymir didn't think Historia had ever cared less about cheerleading in her life.

"It… it was good! What—when did you get here?"

Frieda stroked several stray hairs back behind Historia's ear, looking down at her like they were sharing a secret. "Just now," she said. "What do you think, a good surprise?"

"Yes! I—yes, Frieda, it's…" Historia had the same level of words to put to the situation that Ymir did. She went with hugging her sister some more instead. Still with the smiling.

Ymir stood in the background like a forgotten stagehand and couldn't even mind.

Only she was a little less than wholly forgotten. Frieda's sugary sweet teddy bear affection sharpened over Historia's head. They had the same eyes, but this pair hadn't had weeks of being won over with charm and good looks.

Ymir had a very dark hunch, and very little evidence against it.

"Who's this?" Frieda asked lightly.

It was a heavy compliment, Ymir knew, that Historia instantly broke her hug enough to look back at Ymir. She didn't lose the smile when she did. If anything it brightened. Ymir didn't think she felt her heart anymore. Mush didn't have nerve endings.

"This," Historia said, with all the significance she'd skipped for the last family meet and greet, "is Ymir."

"Oh," Frieda said benignly. "The same Ymir you brought to Dad's party?"

Historia's smile evaporated.

Ymir's hunch started to feel a little more like fact.

She had only met Historia's parents once. If a second time came up, she didn't see it ending without a murder, and the only thing sparing Frieda at the moment was the streak of overprotectiveness lacing the hammer of judgment she was throwing Ymir's way.

"That's me," Ymir said. There were worse introductions. Better, too, but she was guessing Mama and Papa Reiss had already screwed her on that front.

Frieda smiled congenially at her. You know, like how mother bears bared their teeth before they disemboweled whatever previously living thing was unfortunate enough to step near their cub. "You must be good friends," she said.

It was bait on a devilish hook, and Ymir wasn't going to be able to help the swallow.

Historia beat her to it.

It could have happened in slow motion. In a movie reenactment, it would have, and missed out on the stumbling garble that came from Historia saying the words faster than she had time to think about them.

Before Ymir could even think about tactics, in a second of combusting defiance, what tripped out of Historia's mouth in front of her shiny, sparkly paragon of a sister who would accept nothing less was, "Ymir's my girlfriend."

…

So, the obvious: No, she was not.

The other obvious, stashed between Frieda's good-natured, lying, happy exclamation of surprise and Historia's rapidly paling face:

Holy fuck that so needed to change.