Three hears a familiar beep in the driveway. A few seconds pass and then she hears car doors shut, followed by talking that she doesn't care enough about to pay attention to.
The chatter stops abruptly.
"Um," says someone who sounds a fuck of a lot like Eight, "Three? Are you okay?"
Three opens her eyes and looks up, vision blurry and eyes bloodshot.
"Oh my god," says the taller green blob that vaguely resembles a person and sounds like Four. "Are you high?"
"I still don't know what that means," the slightly-shorter-yet-still-far-above-average-height blue-purple blob that vaguely resembles a person and sounds like Eight mumbles. "But are you... Okay?"
"Hi," she rasps and waves in their general direction.
"You sound like shit," Four comments, looking down at her. "... What happened, exactly?"
"I fucking told you." Three sighs. "The microwave?"
"Yeah, the microwave caught on fire... Not you." Very observant, Four.
"Who do you think had to put it out?"
Three cannot see but she assumes the look Four is giving her is the most incredulous look known to cephalokind. "Oh, you're kidding me, right..?"
Three makes a vague gesture towards her everything. "Am I, Sarah? Am I?"
Four responds by bending down and burying her nose in Three's mantle. She pulls away, hacking.
"What the fuck did you think you'd get?" she asks.
"... Four?" Eight cocks her head slightly, watching Four with worry. "Are you... Okay?"
"You smell like ten years of scorched shit," she wheezes.
"Thanks," Three mumbles and pushes herself off the ground. "Oh, uh... What's in the bags?"
"Stuff," Eight replies. What a fucking surprise. "Party stuff."
Three looks over at Four for some clarification. Some answers. Fucking something.
"Yeah," is what she says instead of elaborating like a good friend. "Party stuff."
Three rolls her eyes. "That's not fucking helpful."
"Too bad! That's what it is." Eight sticks her tongue out.
"Put that away, that's gross," Three mutters. Eight makes a "Nyeeeeh" noise. "Eight, come on."
"Make me!"
Oh, you bitch. Three ABSOLUTELY cannot let Eight get away with a 'make me.' She opens her mouth to speak-
Four clears her throat loudly. "Can you guys wait until we, like... Get inside?"
Three rolls her eyes. "Fine, but..." She briefly fishes around in her pocket for her glasses case and puts them on. She took her contacts out a little bit ago because her entire eyes hurt. A lot. Probably because of the flaming microwave.
How do you set a microwave on fire? What the fuck.
What did they even get, anyways? Three would try to look if her eyes didn't hurt and if Four wasn't waiting by the door impatiently.
Three sighs, opens the door, and then follows them in.
Pearl's mantle lights up orange when she sees Eight.
"Hey, you're back!" Eight nods. "How were things?"
"They were good. How come you never explained Splatoween to me before?" Eight asks.
"... We were going to," Pearl mumbles. Right. Just like how they were going to throw Eight's party together. "Marina's in the kitchen."
Eight's eyes widen. "You're letting her go there?"
"It's not to cook!"
Eight sighs, relieved. "Oh, thank the gods. Nothing's on fire now, right?"
"Not... Now." Pearl and Three share a glance. "Uh... So. You guys got stuff?"
Four nods, holding up the two bags in her hands. "Streamers, hats, plates, a skeleton-"
"A what." Three doesn't know if it's her or Pearl that says that, but it doesn't matter, either.
"A skeleton," Eight answers as if that means anything. "It's a skeleton."
"I-" Pearl furrows her brow. Eight just smiles at her. "Okay. Sure. Whatever. You have a skeleton now."
"Yes! I do." She quietly clears her throat. "Um... Is it okay if I bring this stuff upstairs?"
"I don't see why not," Pearl says with a small shrug. "Is there anything you need to keep down here?"
Eight thinks for a moment and then shakes her head. "No, the plates and stuff are in Four's bags."
Pearl nods.
Eight hesitates instead of going to the stairs. Three's about to ask when Eight suddenly scoops her up and slings her over her shoulder
"Eight," Three wheezes, "What the fuck."
"I have some questions for you, Three," is the only answer she gets as Eight starts speedwalking up the stairs. OOOOOOOH look at Eight with her working legs.
How rude.
"Fucking what? And can you please put me down?"
"If you walked faster maybe I wouldn't have to carry you," Eight retorts, finishing her climb up the stairs. Seeing is a little hard right now and her head is throbbing a little, but the upstairs of the house seems to be just as fancy as the downstairs. Oh wait is that a fucking Rembrandt? Three squirms a little in Eight's grip, who tuts at her. "We're almost there, don't worry."
"Is that a Rembrandt?" she asks, and Eight shrugs, digging her shoulder into Three's stomach. "Do you have a fucking work-out routine or something? And what the hell's in the bag?"
"A skeleton," she states plainly. "And no, I'm not super active. What's a Rembrandt?"
It takes a lot of effort to not nerd-out about art right then and there. "He was a painter but his paintings are also referred to as Rembrandts? He's a pretty important artist, I guess. I've only seen them in like... Museums and shit, do you know if it's authentic? Can you please put me down so I can look?"
Eight responds by half-nudging, half-kicking a door open. Despite the light not being on, it's fairly well-lit, with sunlight streaming in through a window. She sets the bag down and pretty much slams Three down on the bed which is, admittedly, a little hot but also OW. "Sorry," she mumbles when Three glares at her. "I don't know anything about the paintings here, but I could ask Pearl if you want?"
"I'll ask her sometime," she says, sitting up. Shit, her room's nice. Well. Okay, that's kind of expected, given the fact that they live in Sunset Court, but goddamn... Eight takes a seat on the carpet as she unloads the plastic bag of shit, so Three looks around.
It's... Nice. Very nice.
There's a desk by the window with a small lamp on it, and a few tiny succulents that miraculously haven't died. Or, well, maybe it's not a miracle? Eight looks competent, like she wouldn't forget to water them after owning them for two days. It's a bit messy, with papers and pens strewn about it, but the mess is... Almost contained. Above the desk is a shelf that matches it, with a bunch of... Stuff on it. They almost look like erasers..? Some of them have tiny chunks missing, but they're all relatively cute. Oh, wait, is that one Pearl? And next to it is Marina, and then Marie, and- Well, that's Callie, but she's dressed like... Uh- Wait, why is there an Octavio eraser?
"Eight?" She looks up, holding the world's shittiest Splatoween decoration in her hands. "What are those?" Three points at the shelf.
"Oh." She grimaces. "Those are, um... Mem cakes, I think they're called. They... I don't know how to really describe them. I'd get one after a test, and... If I eat one, I get some of my memories back. There's eighty total."
"How... Many have you eaten?" Three asks. Eight shifts and the inkling skeleton falls over.
"I haven't," she mumbles. "I don't... I don't really want to know my past. Like, the more I think about it... Everything points to me not liking who I was, if that... Makes any sense. I mean, Marina hacked into the Valley database, and she has my file, and... She's offered to show it to me. But I don't want to know." Eight pulls her knees up to her chest. "But... Three."
"Huh?"
"Did..." Her voice is quiet and barely above a whisper. "Did we know each other? Before... Everything? Um, I mean... Well, we fought, but... Do you remember it..?"
"... Yeah," Three breathes after a long pause. "We... Fought. I, uh... You wanna know about it?" Eight hesitates before nodding. "You... Uh, you were... Violent."
"Violent..?" Eight mumbles, cocking her head to the side. "... Is it okay if I ask you to elaborate?"
There's a part of Three that doesn't want to, at all, but she thinks Eight deserves to know.
"You were... Brutal. I don't know how else to describe it. It was near Nantai, and... You almost killed me, and... You seemed so happy about it, too." Three remembers that fight well - too well. She remembers Eight's jagged smile, the unconstrained glee in her eyes, and the bright, blood-colored rings marking her skin. When she looks at the Eight on the ground here, she looks guilty, with slightly-pursed lips and eyes fixated on the floor rather than Three's face, and her rings are hidden, not glowing and the same color as her skin.
"... I'm sorry, Three," she says quietly, resting her head on her knees. "I... Do you hate me for that?"
"No." Three doesn't think she could ever hate Eight. In the end, they were all doing what they were told. Yet... At the same time, there was something odd about that encounter. Eight was... Alone. And for someone who is, apparently, the most hated inkling in the underground, it seemed strange to send only one octoling after her, no matter that octoling's training. And on top of that, Eight didn't really look like she was looking for Three in the first place. Was Eight trying to escape then, too..? Three doesn't really understand it. Three doesn't think she ever will. "I'd never hate you, Eight."
"Four did," Eight says softly. "Four wanted me dead. She told me she did. And... I don't blame her for it. If I were in her position, I'd hate me too. I can't imagine how I'd feel if I were in yours."
"I knew what I was signing up for," Three replies, and it's only a half-lie. Truth be told, once the Zapfish was back, she had the option to leave the NSS. Four had begged her to leave it, too, because it was dangerous. Because every time Four saw her, she had a new cut, a new scrape. Three knew it hurt her, seeing her like that, but she had to do it. If Three didn't do it, no one else would, right? And that would be her mark on the world. It would give her insignificant, worthless life meaning. "It's okay, Eight. If I was scared of getting hurt, I wouldn't have done this for two years."
"I... But, it doesn't matter if you're scared of it. What matters is that you were. " Eight pushes herself off the ground and walks over to Three. Her thumbs hook under the bottom of Three's shirt, and she looks at her, waiting for approval. Three nods and Eight rolls it up. Her fingers lightly trace the raised, blueish scars littering her torso, winding and twisting. The largest one, the one that's slightly faded yet so much darker than all the others no matter how much lightening cream she uses, starts at her leftmost heart and curves down below her bottom-right gill slit. She runs her thumb over it once, twice - then bends down and kisses it. A second passes and Three feels something wet on her skin. Two more and then Eight pulls away, and-
"Eight... Are you crying?" Three bends forward, cupping her face in her hands. She wipes away some of her tears, only for more to fall.
"I'm sorry," she whispers, voice shaking and wavering and breaking. "I'm so, so sorry, Three."
"It's okay, Eight," Three comforts, and she's not lying this time. "It's okay."
"You're too good for me," she murmurs, sniffling. "I don't... I don't get it."
"I should be the one saying that," Three mumbles, meaning every word. "Eight... I really like you. A lot. And... You know, there's no one else I'd rather date."
"Not even Four?" she asks.
Three shakes her head 'no.' "Definitely not. We're both bottoms, there's no way that'd work out."
Eight laughs the laugh Three loves to hear. "Duly noted," she mumbles. "And... You too. I don't want to date anyone else."
"Not Four?"
"Too much Carly Mantaray."
Three laughs. "Yeah... You're right."
"Oh, um... Three?" Eight lifts a hand off the bed to bed to grab one of Three's longer tentacles. "What... Do the colors mean?"
"Uh..." Three looks down at it. There's a rippling pattern of yellows and pinks atop a mass of blotches in Eight's purple. "The purple is your ink, and it's there because... I like you. Um, the yellow is because I'm happy, and... Pink is... Romantic."
"I make you happy..?" Eight asks, softly rubbing circles into the limb. The parts that she touches turn her color before fading back to yellow and pink. Three nods. "I'm... I'm glad."
Three tilts Eight's head up and gently kisses her forehead. Eight giggles softly.
"Did you just giggle?" she asks, pulling away.
Eight blushes in her hands and Three can feel the warmth. "No."
"You did..!" Three laughs and presses another kiss to Eight's forehead. She feels her face grow hotter in her grasp. "You nerd."
"I'm not a nerd, you butt..!" lies the nerd. "Giggling is for stupid butts like you." Eight punctuates it by forcefully poking Three in the cheek.
"Wroooooong," protests Three.
"Riiiiiiiiiiight," counters Eight.
"Nooooo."
"Yeeeees."
"Iiiiiiincorrect."
Eight responds by making a few noises that probably don't mean anything in any language then gently bonks her head against Three's stomach. "Bleh."
"... Bleh," Three repeats.
Eight nods against her stomach. "Bleh."
"Bleh..."
The final 'bleh' hangs heavy in the air until Eight slowly breathes out and pushes herself off Three.
"And where are you going?" Three asks.
"I'm going to go shower," Eight says, standing up. She pulls her shirt off and drops it to the ground. The part of Three's brain that wants to have a shred of dignity is yelling at her to look away, but the louder, gayer part of her is still freaking out because eight is shirtless and she is Right There dear god? and that part of her is the one that wins this fight. "Do you want to come with?"
"What," Three breathes because she thinks she heard that incorrectly. "Uh. Repeat that?"
Eight laughs and Three thinks she died for a moment because there's no way a laugh that wonderful could ever exist on Earth.
"Do you want to shower with me?" she asks again, and no Three doesn't pinch herself, that's stupid. "I smell like sweat and ink, and you smell like sweat and burning. And... I missed you today, and I wanna spend some time with you."
"Yyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyes, sure, I am, uh, one hundred percent down, uh, but like, I don't wanna impose, because I don't want to, and, you know, are you comfy with that kind of thing, like, I am, don't get me wrong, but-" Three stops babbling when Eight laughs again.
"Oh, Three," she murmurs, "Never change."
"Sorry," Three mumbles, looking down at the ground. "But, uh... You're serious..?"
"Three, please. I'm not asking you to have sex with me."
Three looks up from the carpet briefly to make eye contact with Eight and then she gets a fun slew of mental images she REALLY didn't need right now holy fuck but still it's not like that's a thing Three thinks about a lot, like, it's kind of low on the list of Eight-related things Three thinks about a lot, like, item five out of seventeen, which doesn't seem that low now that she says it but she swears the top four are like 65% of the theoretical pie chart this would make, and item five is like, 10%, and the other twelve there are about, like, other things that escape Three right now, but, guh, that's not- this isn't- this totally isn't FAIR damn you eight-
"I..." Three says in a voice much smaller than she wants it to be, "I wasn't... I didn't think you were, I just, um..."
"You just what?" Eight asks, cocking her head slightly. Three bites her lip. "... Ah. Forget it. Are you coming?"
"Um... Yeah, I'll... Just, gimme a mo..." Three's voice trails off as Eight continues to undress. "... Oh."
"Arteth thou enraptured with thineth beauty... Eth?" Eight asks. The part of Three that is a theater kid should be very mad at the linguistic slaughter Eight just committed but Three just. She. Guh. Fuh...
gorl...
"... Three..?" Eight takes a few steps closer, concern evident on her face. "Are you... Okay?"
Three hears a noise that's kind of like "Ghughfubgughg..." and belatedly realizes that it's her making that noise. Eight gingerly lays a hand down on her leg and then suddenly the world is very tall and Three is very flat.
"... Three, come on. I'm not even naked," Eight says in an attempt to console her but those are the Words, the Bad Words, because Three is, she, gorl... "Can you... Shift back for me? Please? You're going to get ink everywhere."
Three is still trying to process everything when Eight sighs and scoops up all one-hundred and twelve pounds of squid and unceremoniously hoists her over her shoulder again. And that is really not helping the situation because, gorl, strong, Gorl,...
"... You're kind of heavy," she comments, oblivious to Three's plight. "Squishy, too."
Three responds by continuing to be a squid.
Eight kicks open the bathroom door and sets Three down on the ground with a small grunt. She gingerly steps over her squiddy body and leaves the room. About a minute later, and she comes back with a bunch of towels, opting to set them down on the sink counter.
Three decides to continue being a gay squid.
Eight eventually turns the water on and sighs at Three, who is still being a squid. She grabs one of the towels and wraps it around herself as she waits for either to water to fill the tub or Three to stop being gay and stupid.
Eventually, Three calms down enough to pop back into humanoid form. And... Ah. Shit. She's still clothed.
"You know, you don't have to do this if you're uncomfortable," Eight says. She takes her tentacles out of their ponytail, and the long one towards the top of her head droops down over her right eye.
"I... I want to, it's just... You know." She fumbles with her pants as she goes to remove them. "... I guess I'm just nervous."
"I won't judge, Three. I like you. You know that." Three can feel Eight's eyes on her as she continues to undress. "Even if you kick my ass in Monopoly."
"It's a game that requires skill." Now nude, Three awkwardly holds her mound of moderately filthy clothes. "And, um... Where do you want me to put these..?"
"Just leave them in the other room somewhere. It doesn't really matter." Three nods and stands up.
Nudging the door open with her foot, she looks around the room briefly before deciding to just put them down on the wall next to the door.
Reentering the bathroom, she makes eye contact with Eight. Three feels her face warm and she just feels... Exposed. Which, in a way, she... She is,but...
Eight removes the towel. Three's face warms even more and she decides to stare at the tile.
She hears the fabric ruffle as Eight folds it and sets it back with the rest.
"It's ready," Eight tells her. Three nods and looks over to see Eight stepping into the bath. Towards the side of it are two small hand towels draped over the edge.
... What the fuck? That's a giant fucking bathtub.
"It's huge," Three mumbles. Eight shrugs. "Why..?"
"I don't know. I didn't make it. You should see the one in Pearl's room, honestly."
Three doesn't even want to imagine.
Gingerly, she steps in and hastily grabs the side of the tub when she feels herself slip.
"Careful..!" Eight warns, leaning forward to grab Three's hips as she steadies her. The sudden contact causes Three to slip again, but she luckily doesn't fall. "... Gods, Three, you're a mess."
"... Shut up." Slowly, she sinks into the water. It's warm, although not as hot as Three prefers. It's better than freezing cold water, at the very least. "Um, so..." Three shifts awkwardly, unsure if she should try and cover up or not, or...
"Do you mind if I wash you?" Eight asks. Three was expecting the question, but that doesn't stop her from blushing more. "Or... Not."
"No, it... It's fine. Go... Ahead." Eight gives her a somewhat concerned look. "... Really. It's fine."
"... Okay." Eight grabs one of the hand towels and pushes it beneath the water. "Come closer?"
Three scoots towards her.
Eight pulls the cloth out of the water and uncaps a bottle of body wash. Three can't see the label without her glasses, but it's pink and it smells vaguely like flowers when Eight pours it out. She lathes it and gently takes one of Three's arms and starts to wash it.
Slowly, Three starts to relax, letting her posture loosen as she slouches more. Eight's free hand hooks around Three's neck and gently taps at her siphon, causing her to jump.
"Your posture's awful," she chides. Three rolls her eyes. "I'm serious! You're going to look like Mr. Cuttlefish before you're twenty."
"Okay, Mom." Eight sighs. "What? It's fine. I'm not dead."
"You'll wish you were, though."
"Already do," she jokes. Eight glares at her. "Fine, fine, sheesh..."
Eight cups some of the water in her hand and then washes the soap off Three's arm. "Don't joke about that."
"... Okay."
Eight gently scrubs at the skin on Three's neck. The washcloth comes back covered in Three's make-up, which formerly hid the hickeys Eight left.
"Three, did you... Paint your skin?" Eight looks at the towel and then back at Three.
"It's make-up. Generally speaking, hickeys aren't... Y'know. Professional to just have... Hanging out."
"Do you want me to stop giving you them, then?" Eight cocks her head slightly.
"No," Three says maybe a little too fast. "They're not hard to hide, anyways."
"If you're just going to hide them, what's the point in getting them, then?"
"... They feel nice," she mumbles. Eight's quiet for a few seconds and then she shrugs.
"I mean... I guess that's an answer." Eight swishes the rag around in the water, rinsing the make-up off, and then pours some more soap on it and continues. "Oh, so... Are you wearing make-up on your face, too? Should I wash your face?" Eight asks, holding up the washcloth. Without waiting for her response, she presses it to Three's face and gently scrubs at it.
Wrinkling her nose, Three pulls her head back and nearly falls over. "Are you trying to fucking smother me?!" she snaps, but Eight only laughs and kisses her rather soapy nose. A second later and Eight wipes her mouth, grimacing slightly.
"It doesn't taste as good as it smells..." she mumbles.
"What the fuck, Eight?" Eight blushes. "Did- What the hell did you think it'd taste like?"
"Um... Not that." Three snickers. "Don't laugh at me, you meanie..!"
Three takes the opportunity to laugh a very exaggerated three-pronged laugh at her. Eight wipes the rest of the soap off Three's nose with one smooth swipe and then jams the soapy finger in Three's mouth.
"... Three? What's that thingy?"
"The what?"
Eight pulls her mouth open and taps at her tongue piercing. "What is that?" she asks, moving her hands off Three's face.
"It's a tongue piercing." Eight furrows her brow. "I usually put in a clear retainer since it's out of dress code for where I work."
"Oh." Eight looks over the rest of Three. "Are all the other metal thingies piercings, too?"
Three nods.
"That's... A lot," she comments. "You got your gill slits pierced, too? Why?"
"I got the ones behind my ear pierced first." Three turns her head to let Eight see. "But then the sound was warped, except only in that part. And I really hated that, so I got the rest pierced."
"... Didn't it hurt?"
"Yeah. They hurt like hell." She thought the ones behind her ears were bad, but the slits on her torso hurt waaaay more. For a few days, even moving was painful. "I made the mistake of getting all twelve done at once."
"Twelve?" Three nods. Eight purses her lips. "... How many do you have?"
"Uh..." Eighteen total gill piercings, one stud in her nose, her tongue piercing, the two piercings in her left ear... "I think... Twenty-two?"
"Three. Why." She shrugs. "That's so many."
"I guess. They're barely visible, though."
Eight rolls her eyes. "Yeah, so what's the point?"
"Well, I know they're there. And I like them."
She sighs quietly. "Fine. I guess that almost makes sense." Eight hesitates before moving the washcloth again. "Is it okay if I wash your gills, or are they sensitive?"
"Just don't tear them." Eight nods and gently washes them, being overly careful. Eventually, she finishes, and washes the soap off.
Silence settles over them as Eight continues to wash her. Once the initial rush of aaaaaa gorl wears off, it's... Peaceful. Relaxing. Three needs something like this after everything today, she thinks, even if she didn't do any intense physical work, everything that happened today was... Tiring. And... Maybe Three missed Eight after all. ... But only maybe.
...
Fine.
She did.
... Maybe.
"... There," Eight says finally, washing the rest of the soap off Three's back. "All done."
Three turns back around to face Eight. "Thanks," she mumbles. Eight responds by gently patting her head. "Here, do you... Want me to do you?"
"... If you could, that'd be great," Eight replies quietly. Three takes the cloth from her hand and washes the soap out, wrings it, then takes the bottle of body wash and lathers it. "I'm still kinda sore from earlier..."
Huh..?
Oh.
"You went turfing today, right?" She nods. "How was it?"
Three scoots closer and decides to start with Eight's arms.
"It wasn't bad. I think I might get accepted."
"You tried out?"
"Mh."
"Did you win?"
"Most of them."
"Was Dana there?"
"Mh."
"She's a bitch, right?"
"Mm-mm."
"... Seriously?"
"Mh." Eight yawns as Three moves to her other arm. "She's nice. Why?"
"Because she's a bitch?"
Eight laughs quietly. "There was another potential recruit. He's an octoling. His name's Lucas."
"Is he nice?"
"We didn't talk much."
"Was he... Y'know. Weird?"
"Um... He gave me a weird look when we first met by the lockers. He seemed a bit wary after our first match." She sighs quietly. "I don't know why."
"I'm sure he'll come around." Hopefully they'll learn that Eight is... Relatively harmless. Or nice, at the very least. Maybe Eight was 'bad' once, but Three knows she's changed. "Other than that, everything was okay?"
"Mhm."
Once Eight's arms are clean, Three moves onto her torso.
"Oh, Eight..." Three gently taps at a green mark on her side, right below her lowest gill slit. "Is that from today?"
"Yeah," she mumbles, lifting her arm slightly as Three inches closer. "There was this stupid Carbon Roller."
"Did you win at least?" she asks, looking up at Eight.
"They got a knockout," Eight grumbles. "The Carbon Roller hit me in the last few seconds, like, really hard..."
Three pours some more soap onto the washcloth. Eight moves her arm out of the way, expecting Three to scrub at it, only to let out a small squeak when Three kisses it.
"What's that about..?" she asks, blushing.
"I'm kissing it better," Three replies softly, gently rubbing the soapy cloth against Eight's skin. "This doesn't hurt, does it?"
"No. It... Feels nice," Eight admits. She shifts slightly, moving closer. Three could already reach her just fine, but she doesn't mind at all. Three eventually pulls the washcloth away, and the part that she used to wash Eight with is stained green, but it fades once Three swishes it around in the bath water.
She pours some more soap onto it, then lathers it and starts washing Eight again. Silence quickly settles over them again, but it's not awkward. It's just... Comforting. Three knows that she could use some quiet after all the time she spent with Pearl today, and if any of the interactions Three's had with Four over the past twelve years mean anything - and Dana, Tatzelwurm forbid - then Eight would probably appreciate it, too.
"Do you use anything special for your tentacles?" Three asks, finally breaking the silence.
"Oh, um... Yeah," Eight says, taking the bottle of body wash from Three and closing it. "I think it's, like, baby soap, but it's really just because the chemicals in normal soap can burn a little. You know, since... Octarians."
"They, uh... Isn't reproduction through, like... Cuttings, or something..?" Eight nods. "So, um... Can you, like... Y'know."
"What?"
Three feels her face warm. "I- Uh, you... Is it, like, pleasurable, or..?"
"Oh, you're asking if it's erogenous?" Eight asks, cocking her head to the side. Three nods, and Eight shakes her head. "No. That's horrible design."
"I... See." Three bites at her lip. "Do... Do you want me to do it, or..?"
"Um... If you want to, sure? Don't be too rough." Eight pulls a bottle off the shelf, handing it to Three. She squints at the label - apparently it's a gentle mixture used for inklings, from newly-hatched to age four. "It's hard to find any shampoo without tentacle oil mixed it. It hurts, a lot."
"Is, um... Is it okay if I move closer?" she asks. Eight nods. Three moves so that she's sitting between Eight's legs. She hesitates for a moment before moving a leg over Eight's thigh.
"Just sit on my lap," Eight mutters. "... Is this really enough to fluster you?"
"M-Maybe," Three replies hastily, but she still does as Eight says. "Don't you remember what I told you..?"
"Huh?" Three uncaps the bottle, pouring some of the soap into her hand. Eight holds the bottle off to the side while Three lathers it in her hands. "Oh, about... The, quote, 'social pressure things?' Somehow... I feel like this is beyond the average 'social pressure thing.'"
"Yeah, but..." Three sighs, gently running her hands against Eight's tentacles. "Still..! You know what I mean."
Eight dips her head down, resting her face in the crook of Three's neck. When she laughs, Three feels it throughout her entire body. "I know," she murmurs. "I'm just teasing."
"You're an ass." Three rolls her eyes with a small smile. Her thumb brushes against one of the many suckers and it briefly latches onto it. "... Did your hair just kiss me?"
"If you want to think of it like that, sure," she replies. "Maybe it likes you."
"You can control it, can't you?" Eight's free hand moves from the bottom of the tub up to the smaller tentacles on the back of Three's head. She strokes them, claws running against them lightly.
"Kind of," she replies, wrapping the tip of one of them around Three's finger. It caresses the digit as Three pulls her hand away. "Hey, make sure you get the roots."
"Okay." Eight turns her head slightly, pressing a few kisses into Three's neck. "Fuck, are you sure you're not getting off to this?"
She laughs again. "You'd know," she purrs. "You'd know."
Three chooses to ignore the mental image that gives her.
She presses her fingers against the roots as directed. They're much warmer than the rest of Eight's mantle, honestly, and tougher, too. Cutting these had to be a nightmare, right? Well, there's probably some process to it that Three doesn't know...
Eight's hand drops down from her mantle to the top pair of slits on her torso, gently running her thumb over it. A few strokes and then she moves her hand up to Three's face, caressing her cheek.
"What are you even doing, you nerd?" Three asks. Eight mumbles something incoherent into her neck and then kisses it again. "... Was that even Inkling?"
"I really like you," she says quietly. "A lot." Eight pulls away, untangling Three's hands from her mantle. The next kiss she gives Three is on the lips and when Eight breaks it, she's smiling. "The water's getting cold."
"... Yeah," Three agrees with a sigh. She doesn't really want to get out... Eight gently nudges Three back before dunking her head in the water. A few seconds pass and she pulls her head out. She runs a hand through the roots and it comes back soapless.
"Hey... Eight?" Three says quietly as Eight climbs out to go get towels.
Eight looks over her shoulder. "Huh?"
"I really like you a lot, too."
Eight blushes, turning back around. "Thanks," she replies softly. Eight sets a towel down on the counter for Three, who opens the bathtub drain. Three stands up and squeezes some of the excess water off her tentacles. She steps out as it drains, finding a small towel beneath her feet.
"It's so you don't slip," Eight mumbles. Fuck. Three should totally do that at her apartment when she gets the chance. Why didn't she ever think of that.
Eight dries her tentacles before she starts drying the rest of herself, which is, funnily enough, the exact opposite of what Three does.
"Your clothes are dirty, aren't they..?" Eight asks. "Here, I'll lend you some of mine."
"It's fine, Eight," Three mumbles, but Eight's already out of the bathroom. She sighs. Eight's... Nice. Really nice. Three wonders if she deserves someone like Eight, and... She still chalks them getting together up to divine intervention. There's no other way someone like her would ever consider dating her, right?
Eight comes back a moment later with a stack of clothes and sets them next to the sink.
Once she finishes drying herself off, she throws the clothes on and tries not to think too hard about the fact that she's wearing Eight's underwear. Three looks around the bathroom awkwardly, unsure of what to do with the wet towel.
"Um... Eight?" she calls, stepping out into Eight's room. "What do you want me to do with this? Uh- Oh, you're, uh..." Eight looks up. "You're still naked."
"Yes, Three," she says in the tone you use to speak to a dumb idiot toddler. "I am."
"... Why?" she asks, voice small. "Uh... Not that I can, like, stop you, but..."
"I'm putting on lotion?" Right. As if that's the obvious answer. Look at Eight, with her soft, nice skin and shit. What a nerd, and FUCK Three's so gay. "Hey, actually... Can I ask you to put some on my back?"
"What?" Three blinks.
Eight rolls her eyes. "Can you-"
"No, I, um... I heard you, I just..." Three gingerly takes a seat on Eight's bed. She hands Three the bottle - fucking Bath & Body Works cherry blossom, no wonder she's friends with Four - who then uncaps it and squirts a little into her palm. "Just... Rub it in?"
"Do you know how to apply lotion?" and Three can't tell if she's teasing or not.
"Y-Yeah, no, I do, it-" She takes a deep breath. It's fine. This is fine. Three's fine. Eight's fine haha get it? god three's going to die today,
"Thank you," Eight mumbles once Three's hands make contact with her back. She works at a knot in Eight's lower back, and Eight stifles a small moan. Three pauses for a second because there's no way she heard that, right..? Unless Eight's, like, dead set on killing her today, which she's succeeding at and fucking hell Three's going to have some fun dreams THIS week. She's brought out of her thoughts when Eight clears her throat.
"Sorry," Three apologizes. "I just..."
"You're really cute," Eight comments with a laugh as if it's some obvious truth, "You butt."
Fuck, Three didn't think her face could get any hotter. "Uh," she stammers, rubbing the rest of the lotion in. "... Thanks."
Eight hums quietly in acknowledgement.
Three's mostly silent as she works (is it really work if she enjoys it?) as is Eight, with the only noise being the occasional moan when Three gets to an exceptionally sore spot.
"What even happened to you?" she asks.
"I told you," Eight grumbles, "It was that stupid Carbon Roller."
"That's the worst roller, too." Eight nods. "I'm sorry."
"I also got shot point-blank by a Bamboozler," she adds, which is a sentence Three didn't think she'd ever hear. "And then I fell off the bridge on The Reef a few times." There's a faint pink spot that Three couldn't wash out entirely, and Eight flinches away slightly when Three touches it. "That's from a Range Blaster."
"Fucking hell, are you going out of your way to get hit?" Eight laughs. "I'm serious!"
"Aww, are you worried for me, Three?"
"No, totally not. I've never worried at all ever. I don't even have feelings."
"You are..! You totally are, aww... You're adorable." Eight's words send a vibrant wave of yellow down her mantle. "Three..? You know... I'm really, really happy I met you."
"Yeah," she says, voice quiet and barely above a whisper. "I'm happy I met you, too."
When Three finishes up, Eight turns back around and gives Three a smile so sweet she thinks it could give someone diabetes.
"No homo," Eight murmurs fondly, pressing a kiss to Three's lips.
"I-" Three takes a deep breath as she feels her face warm considerably. "I, that's- Eight, that's SO homo. Oh my god."
"No it's not," she mumbles. "I said it wasn't, so it's not."
"That's not how that works!"
"Says who?"
"Me!" she says and there's a squeakiness to her voice that she wishes wasn't there.
Eight laughs and kisses her again. "Fine, then yes homo."
"Where... Where did you even learn that?" Three asks quietly.
"Guess."
"Was it Four again?" Eight nods. Three rolls her eyes. "Typical."
Eight moves forward so she's straddling Three and goddamn if her hearts weren't racing before they are now. She cups Three's head in her hands and tilts it up. Eight laughs, although it's more purr-like than anything, and her breath is minty and cool. Three's is hot and rapid and she can only stare on in awe. "Three..." she starts. "Do you mind if we make it more homo?"
"What..?" Fuck, that's, like, the worst sentence she's ever heard Eight say but god if Three is not intrigued. "I... What?"
"Do you want to make out?" she asks and Three thinks her face is quite literally on fire.
"I, uh- I'm... I'm not opposed to the idea, like, uh, at all, but, um, could you maybe, perchance, put on some underwear, or something?" Eight looks at Three like she's stupid. "... Please?"
"Way to kill the mood..." she mumbles, climbing off Three.
"I- Fuck, it's not like there was much of one to begin with! Seriously, like... 'Do you mind if we make it more homo?' HAS to be, like, the least sexy sentence of all time!" she snaps, crossing her arms.
"Oh, we all know that's not true." Eight slides open a drawer and pulls out a pair of boxers. She slips them on and closes the drawer again. Taking a seat on the bed again, she says, "I saw how you were looking at me. Do you think I'm blind?"
"That's not- Go fuck yourself..!"
"With you right here?" she comments with a laugh. "Please."
"Eiiiiiight," Three whines, burying her head in her hands. "Come on."
"Fiiine," Eight mumbles. "Still, are we, or..? Is the mood, like, irreversibly dead."
"I'm- I'm still down, I swear, but..." Three squints at Eight's boxers. "Are those... Dinosaur print? Is that a red brontosaurus on your crotch?"
Eight sighs. "Am I not allowed to like dinosaurs, Three? Are you judging my taste in underwear?"
"You just... Never struck me as the dinosaur type."
"Maybe I want a stegosaurus on my ass," she huffs. "Look, are we doing this or not?"
"Yes!" Three says too quickly. "Yes, I, uh, yes please."
"You're eager, aren't you?" she teases, straddling Three again.
"You're the one that was groping me the entire time." Three rolls her eyes although she still feels herself blush.
"Groping?" Eight scoffs. "I'll show you groping."
"How charming," Three wants to say, but then Eight kisses her and she finds it hard to care after that.
Three is exceptionally shirtless when Four walks in.
"Oh," says Four.
Three would nod but she's scared she'd hit Eight in the head with her chin so she opts to give Four a small wave.
Eight mutters a series of syllables that most certainly aren't Inkling but most certainly are vulgar and pulls herself off Three, turning around to face Four.
"Did you need something?" she asks, rings burning blue. "And please knock next time."
"I, uh." Four's grip visibly tightens on the doorknob. "Sorry for interrupting, I just- Uh. Summer, it's, uh... Getting late, so-"
"Oh." Three blinks. "Is that it?"
"Um... Yeah, I... I guess so." Four hovers in the doorway for a few seconds, then awkwardly coughs into her hand. "I, uh. See you soon, or something. Sorry."
Four leaves the room quickly after that, the door shutting behind her with a click.
Eight sighs and sits down on the bed. Three pushes herself up and blindly searches for her shirt.
Something pokes her palm. Looking down, and it's her glasses held by the bridge in Eight's hand. She quietly thanks her and slips them on.
Now that she can see, Three can find the shirt Eight lent her. It's blue and blends in with the sheets. Is blue Eight's favourite color? Eight looks good in blue, at the very least. Or... Eight looks good in everything, which is just unfair.
She slips it on and gets off the bed, finding her jacket on the ground. Three ties it around her waist.
"Oh, Three," Eight starts, facing her dresser and finding something to wear. "Whenever the party is... I'll get your clothes back to you."
"You don't have to, I can take them with me."
"Three... They smell awful." She throws on a shirt. Putting on a pair of shorts, she adds, "I have to do laundry anyways. It won't take any longer."
Three bursts out laughing when Eight turns around.
"Eight, is that a 'Dinosaurs of Inkopolis' shirt?" Eight blushes. "Why are you such a dinosaur nerd?"
"They're CUTE, Three!" she retorts. "They're cute."
"You think I'm cute, too, for some goddamn reason... Are you calling me a dinosaur?"
Eight pauses to think. "... Sure. You're a Grumposaurus."
"What, not a butt this time?"
"Grumposaurus butt, then."
... You know what? Fine. Three will almost accept that.
When they walk downstairs, Pearl gives Three a glare and her mantle is a mess of blood-blues and blacks. She's not entirely sure what she did to piss Pearl off, honestly, but she flashes her mantle beige, letting stripes of teal and green ripple through it in what she hopes looks like an honest apology.
"Thank you for your help today," Marina says with a small smile. "Really, it means a lot."
"It's nothing," Three mumbles.
"Anytime," replies Four in that fucking 'OOOOOOOOH look at me I'm a functioning member of society' voice. "You said it's Friday at 6:00, right?"
"Mhm." Marina nods. "You'll be able to make it, yes?"
"Yeah. I'm free Friday." Four returns Marina's smile then nods at Three. "We should... Really get going. Sorry we stayed so long."
"It's fine!" If Three looks behind Marina and into the kitchen, she can spy some of the charred countertop. She's sure that's going to be fun to clean. "Really, really, thank you! Any of this wouldn't have been possible without your help."
"Without my help..?" Four says beneath her breath. Three rolls her eyes. At a louder volume, she tells Marina, "It's nothing."
A few more awkward goodbyes and one incredibly awkward hug from Eight that's more like the hug you give your cousin at a family reunion that you don't know very well as opposed to a hug you should probably give someone you're dating and also made out with for a decent amount of time not even five minutes ago later, they're out of the house.
The walk back to Four's car is spent in silence. Three can hear crickets chirping and the air is cool against her skin. The sky is a medley of oranges and pinks, bleeding into the dark purples of the night sky.
"... So," Four says eventually. Her voice is low, her posture stiff. "You and Eight, uh..."
"Hmm?" Three blinks at her lazily. Ripples of sea green turn to waves, languid and slow as they pulse through her mantle. Their hands brush as they walk - Pearl's driveway is disgustingly huge - but Three never takes it, no matter how much she longs to.
A footstep - Four's shoe against stone. At the same time - Three's footstep, in harmony like they've always been.
Once more, their hands brush. If Three takes it, is she betraying Eight? But Three doesn't want anything romantic with Four. She wants what they have now - what they had? She wants intimacy, but different intimacy than what she could have with Eight no matter how similar they look on the surface. She wants to hold Four's hand, she wants to be close, even if it's in silence - especially if it's in silence. She wants to rest her head against Four's chest, hearing the soft sounds of her breathing and the rhythmic drumming of her hearts - just them in their own little world, just them in their moment outside of time.
When she thinks about it like that, it sounds romantic. But she doesn't want that. Not now, at least. Maybe never. But Three can remember kissing Four, and she remembers the vanilla taste to her mouth, the softness to her lips, contrasting Three's mouth with the burning smokiness of alcohol and her chapped sandpaper lips that bled when she smiled. She remembers those times, and she really just thinks she feels repulsed.
But she also remembers Four's smiles, pretty but never delicate, charmingly gentle, or even the light dusting of color to her cheeks right now, and all she feels is fondness.
Whatever they are... They don't need a name.
They're just them.
"... Summer?" Four's hand still brushes against hers when she lifts it to wave it in front of Three's face. "... Are you okay? You... Zoned out for a bit."
"I love you," Three mumbles. The words are soft, almost tender, but they're genuine, most of all. With that, she finally takes her hand. Three feels at home in moments like these in a way she can't describe, in a way she could never describe.
That's what she's always been to Three.
Home.
Four chokes on her words as her face flushes dark turquoise.
"Um... Thanks. I love you too." Her words send a particularly vibrant surge of her color down Three's mantle. "... You weren't listening to anything I said, huh?"
"No," Three admits.
"Jeez..." She sighs. "I'm just... Y'know, sorry I interrupted you. I just... I didn't think you guys would be moving that fast."
"... Huh?"
"You two were fucking, right? Or... Close to it."
Three feels her face warm once she realizes what Four said.
"No," she mumbles. "We- We weren't anywhere close..!"
"I mean... It looked like it." Four's car beeps when she unlocks it. "So excuse me for coming to that conclusion."
"Wait... When you went back downstairs, what did you tell Off the Hook?" When Four refuses to meet her gaze, she sighs. "Oh, you're shitting me."
"I'm sorry, Summer, forgive me for assuming that the two pashing, almost-naked lesbians were going to fuck."
Three snorts as she gets in the car. "Sometimes I forget you're from Macquasia. You don't sound it."
"What the fuck, do you want me to bring a didgeridoo everywhere I go?" she asks, rolling her eyes.
"No, I just-" Three sighs. "Whatever. But was that why Pearl was pissed?"
"What..?" It takes her a moment. The opening notes to Warm Ink start playing and Three makes the executive decision to turn the radio off. "Oh, probably. You know... She's a lot more protective than I thought she'd be."
"What's she going to do, yell me to death?" Three thinks the idea is funny until she remembers the news clips roughly three months ago, catching shaky footage of the NILS statue with the audio clipping out when Pearl screamed. "Or..."
"She might." Three sucks in an inward breath. "Hey, is your throat okay?"
"Yeah. Still a little sore, but I'm okay." She laughs quietly. "Shit, it's almost like you care."
"Of course I care, idiot," Four mutters.
"I bet I care more." Four stops looking at the road to briefly give Three a tired look. Three sticks her tongue out at her.
She turns to face the road again. "Put that away, that's disgusting."
Three exaggerates the gesture with a small noise. Without looking, Four raises a hand and jabs her in the tongue piercing.
"There's no way you care more, you friggin' dolt." Three 'hmph's indignantly.
"Yeah? I'll make you scrambled eggs with tofu, because that's how you like them."
"I'll marathon the Sea Slug Buddies with you and I won't tease you when you cry."
"Oh really? Then I'll do your make-up because I'm better with eyeliner than you are."
"Then I'll- I'll clean your shitty roller!" A few seconds of tense silence pass before they both start laughing.
Quietly, Four asks, "I'm guessing you want to spend the night at my place, then?"
"Please?"
She laughs again. It's sharp and about as melodious as a child playing an instrument for the first time.
Three loves it.
"Okay," Four agrees. "But you're buying lunch the next time we go out."
"Fine."
(When she wakes up the next morning, the shirt she's wearing smells like both Eight and Four.)
(It's perfect.)