"That's not a pet."

Chianne had been lead through several dark, cool hallways of various incense-smells and descriptions to a hewn-block room decorated in the ancient Egyptian style. A long-limbed, dark-haired young man in a suit was lounging on a white-linen bed with his back to the door, curled with his chin resting on his hands. His flank was rising and falling in sleep.

"That's…" Chianne looked up at D. "Are you trying to sell me a prostitute?"

"No. This is an incredibly rare breed of snake."

"That's not a snake! That's a human!"

The man stirred and lifted his head, stretching. He rolled over onto his back, sprawling artfully on the couch with his hand draped over his chest, and stared at Chianne unblinkingly. Chianne squealed in spite of herself. He was gorgeous in every way she could imagine: he was slender and effeminate with a flawless face, deep green eyes, and shatter-cut, jet-black hair.

"Ohhh. He looks like a J-Rocker!"

"She. This snake is a female."

"No way! He—she's way too tall! And that's not a snake!"

The snake-woman sat up, stretched her linked hands behind her back, yawned, cracked her knuckles, and stood smoothly, walking over to the door through clouds of incense. Chianne bit her bent finger and squealed again; the snake-woman had a certain boneless grace that made Chianne's stomach drop, and now that she was standing over the girl, Chianne could see by her figure, flat though she was, that she was indeed a female, and every bit as tall as she looked on the couch.

"She's not from Egypt, if that's what you're thinking," said D. "She's not really from… well, anywhere. She had just taken a liking to this room, so I let her stay in there. She doesn't have a proper name yet, so you are welcome to name her if you want her."

"…I don't know." The snake-woman walked behind Chianne and placed her hands on Chianne's shoulders, slightly kneading them. Chianne gasped; the woman was rubbing the back of Chianne's neck with her thumb. A shiver shot down Chianne's back.

"Um… hi…"

"Hello," said the woman. Chianne was sure her stomach dropped out this time; the woman had an incredibly low voice, lower than Chianne had ever heard on a female. She swallowed. Her coherent train of thought had long since derailed and crashed under the kneading, and the woman's voice was not helping it get back on track, nor were the woman's incredibly good looks or height.

"Ah, she seems to have taken a liking to you."

"Sssshe'sss a cute one," said the woman. Chianne almost swooned. The woman ran her other thumbnail up Chianne's neck. "What'ssss your name?"

"C-C-C-Chianne Miller."

The snake-woman laughed. "You're not ssssuppossssed to hissssss like me."

Chianne laughed. Oh my god. Oh. My god. She's amazing. Her muscles were already starting to relax, though the butterflies in her stomach were fully waking and getting restless. She's perfect. She can't be real. She's even more gorgeous than Mae.

"I can give her to you for… oh… five dollars."

"…what?"

"Five dollars, and perhaps you could bring me a cheesecake when you come to get more incense for her."

"That's… that's it…? Incense?"

"Yes. If you purchase her, there would be three clauses of the contract to which you would have to adhere. If you break any of these clauses, the store cannot be held responsible for any tragedies that occur."

"…what are they?"

"First, you must not allow her, under any circumstances, to get wet. Second, you must keep the incense burning whenever she is around. I have cone and stick varieties for that, and I can sell you a perfume she can wear in place of that. Third, you must follow her and trust her without falter, no matter what."

I'd follow her anywhere. Chianne looked up at the woman's face and smiled. Oh my god. I don't care what the hell she is. Snake, whatever. She can't be human, so it's not illegal to buy her, is it? She's… she's perfect! She's everything I've ever wanted.

"What do you want to name me?"

"…I don't know. You're a snake, so… I would have considered Malfoy or Snape, but…" Chianne thought for a moment. "…how about Ayame?"

"Ayame?"

"Yeah, like from Fruits Basket. I think it means 'peach blossom' or something. Or maple. I'm not sure. But anyway, is that all right with you?"

"It issss all right becausssse you chosssse it."

Chianne grinned and turned back to D. "I'll take her!"

"Right." He turned and motioned back down the hallway, smiling to himself. "If you would come this way, we will get your papers signed and your care items…"


"So, in this one, Heero tries to commit suicide in his bathtub, but Duo stops him. I'm sure you can tell where that's going." Chianne giggled and scrolled through the story. Ayame was sitting aside her on a chair Chianne had dragged into the living room from the kitchen table. They had set a stick of incense to burn in a wooden holder next to the keyboard, and Ayame was wearing her perfume, so the scent in the area was overpowering. "I used lyrics from my favorite Linkin Park song, 'In the End'. It's called a songfic."

"You really like thissss band."

"Yeah. Well, this song reminds me of Mae. It's kind of hard to explain… you know." Chianne smiled at Ayame shyly. "Gundam Wing's okay, but it's so cliché. I like doing some FAKE here and there—I did this one to 'If You're Gone' by Matchbox 20 where Ryo tries to walk out on Dee; he's the uke—but last year I did a lot of X stuff, Subaru and Seishirou, of course, and no Fuuma, since he's an asshole, and this year I've been on a Gravitation spree. I want to eventually do some Yami no Matsuei. Tatsumi's so hawwwt."

"That'ssss sssso cool."

"I did this one fic called 'Angel' where Subaru gets pregnant… you know who the father is… but it got flamed. People kept calling the baby a Mary Sue. She's not. She's a really good character. She's just misunderstood."

"I'm not ssssure I know what you mean by that."

Chianne was looking for the words to explain just how tragic the baby's life had been and how awesome and original a gothic chick she was when the front door opened. Chianne froze in horror and stared at Ayame.

"Shit… it's Mom."

"Chianne!" a woman yelled from the foyer.

"What?" Chianne snapped.

"Get in here!"

Chianne sighed heavily and stood, walking into the kitchen. Her mother was taking off her coat and hanging it in the hall closet, still wearing her Dillard's shirt and nametag. She looked exhausted and angry.

"Your principal called to say that you had not returned a signed report card a month after it was handed to you at school."

"I lost it."

"Is that so?" Chianne's mother set her keys down and put her hands on her hips. "From what I heard, you'd been called to the office to speak about it with Mr. Spardo last Tuesday. He said you were thoroughly rude, and that your teachers wrote on your card that you haven't been turning in any homework in any of your classes or doing anything in class but drawing your cartoons."

"They're NOT cartoons! And that's bullshit; I turned in my English last week."

"Watch your language, Chianne Miller!"

"Yeah, well, it is. And you can't boss me around."

"Chianne—"

"Mom, you don't understand! The classes are so gay and such a waste of my time, and I can't concentrate on the schoolwork. It's just too boring! It's so far beneath me! They're stifling my creativity! And I don't have any time to do it! I'm under far too much stress."

"Time for what?" Chianne's mother sighed and leaned back on her hand, tapping her fingers on the linoleum counter. "Chianne, all you do every day after school is come home and play on the internet for hours, and you don't have a job or anything to take up your time."

"I can't handle a job! I don't have time!"

"What, might I ask, is taking up so much of your time that could be so important that you don't have time to do a few math problems?"

"It's not a few! It's like fifty! The teacher's an asshole—"

"Chianne!"

"—and I've talked to him, but every day he's like: 'If you don't turn in this homework, I'm going to fail you', and he's a complete ass! He took away my sketchbook last week!"

"Why do you think that is, Chianne?"

"Because he's an ASS. And I'm doing important things that you couldn't understand, Mom."

"You mean watching cartoons and writing stories?"

"They're NOT CARTOONS, and you don't understand." Chianne stomped into the computer room over her mother's warning calls of her name, grabbed Ayame, who had been listening, by the arm, and dragged the snake to her room, slamming the door and locking it. Her mother walked down the hall and jiggled the handle shortly afterward, pounding on the door.

"Chianne, open this door! Who's in there?"

"Can you shut that bitch up?" asked Chianne.

Ayame nodded and threw her hand out toward the door as if flicking water off her fingers. Chianne's mother's voice was stifled, and the door stopped rattling. Chianne sighed and grinned.

"You're a goddess, Ayame." Chianne flopped back on her black-and-flames-sheeted bed, smiling at Ayame, who sat on the end of her bed. "God, I'm sorry you had to hear that. My mother's such a raging bitch. I hate her so much. I can't wait until I move out. Last week she fucking grounded me because I was late for her fucking curfew. She's so judgmental."

"What about your father?"

"Divorce. He's so cool; he lets me do pretty much whatever I want when I go visit. He lives in Phoenix. Hey, do you listen to music?"

"I've heard ssssome here and there."

"I like a lot of stuff. Lately I've been listening to a lot of Depeche Mode. They're eighties, and they're fucking amazing. I like 'It's No Good' the best. It's, you know, inspirational. It's so amazing. It gives me goose-bumps. Manson's good too. He's so hot."

"I'm not familiar with thossse."

Chianne gestured to the posters plastered across her narrow walls. "They're all up on the walls. See, those're my yaoi boys as well. Aren't they cute? Yuki's so kawaii; he looks just like my best friend."

"…bessssst friend?"

"Mae, the one I told you about."

"The one that hurt you."

"…yeah, her. Her and Michael."

"I'll never hurt you like sssshe did."

Chianne blinked nervously and tried to laugh, though she felt the blood rising to her cheeks. Ayame had been saying odd things like that all afternoon and looking downright miserable whenever she spoke fondly of anybody but Ayame. Mae's name, especially, quieted Ayame and made her stare unblinkingly at Chianne.

"Oh, Ayame, I know you never would. You're amazing. You're the coolest person I've ever met. You're ten times cooler than Mae could ever be."

"Really?"

"Yeah, really. Mae can be a bitch, and her rack's too big, but you're perfect. You're everything I've ever wanted and dreamed of. But it's, like, you're a chick, even if I did imagine a guy, but for some reason… I don't know, it feels more right. It's like you'd understand me more or something."

"I am accssseptable to you, then?"

"God, yes!" Chianne sat up and pounced across the bed onto Ayame's shoulders. "Glomp! Meow!"

"Glomp? Meow?"

"Yup!" Chianne nuzzled Ayame's cheek. Unlike most people, Ayame did not flinch or stiffen, but leaned into the nuzzle happily. Chianne felt the blood rush to her face. "Reow! God, you're warm! Aren't snakes supposed to be cold-blooded, or something?"

"I don't know what you are talking about." Ayame nuzzled Chianne back. "Would you prefer that I am cold?"

"…no…" Chianne sighed and shuddered. Ayame was nuzzling the crook of Chianne's neck and flicking her tongue along the skin at intervals. This beautiful, perfect seme-woman was actually responding positively to her advances. Very positively. "Um… Ayame… you're sure about all of this?"

"Why would I not be? You like me, don't you?" Ayame twisted to face Chianne and started kissing along her jawline.

"Of course… but… ohhhh." Chianne gasped and grabbed the arch of her footboard. Oh my god. This really does feel as good as all of those fics say it does! She had written about this sort of treatment multiple times—the way Ayame was nipping at her neckline and kissing around her lips, all of it, right down to the usual descriptions of how it was supposed to feel—but it was still a shock in much the same way that actually driving a car was a shock after years of racing games in the arcade. The kind that violently skid the cars ninety degrees when the wheel is gently turned about ten degrees.

"You…" She gasped and gripped the footboard harder, wondering whether or not she should embrace Ayame around the shoulders. The snake was working her way back down Chianne's neck. "…uh… I… I like you, I like you a lot… I… uh… Okay."

Chianne wrapped her arms around Ayame's straight shoulders and pulled her down into a hard, closed-lipped kiss. "I've… oh my god, I've never done this before, I mean, I've read stuff and written stuff, but—"

"Ssssssssh." Ayame laughed quietly and flipped Chianne onto her back, pinning her shoulders. Chianne jabbered, searching for some sort of response. "You're giving your firsssst time to me?"

"I… uh… wait…" Ayame was giving Chianne the most tender, loving look she had ever received in her life. She swallowed; she had fantasized about this happening, eventually, but… "…how far are we going, anyway?"

"Assss far assss you like." Ayame ran the backs of her fingers down Chianne's cheek, stroking, then rolling her hand around to cup her chin. She repeated the motion in a flowing loop. "Why? Don't you trussst me?"

"Of course! I'd follow you to the ends of the earth! You're everything I've ever wanted, Ayame. I love you." She stroked Ayame's silky hair. Ayame smiled at her. "Yes, I want you to be my first. Just… um… I've never really been as much into yuri, except some Harkua X Michiru stuff here and there, and some Utena X Anthy and a bit of Sakura X Tomoyo… so I'm not so sure about a lot of things… um, the room is still soundproof and locked, right?"

"Very muchhh so. We're going to need it."

"Uh."

"I might take on a human form, but I sssstill very muchhh have a ssssnake'ssss flexability and—" She flicked the tip of her tongue across the shell of Chianne's ear. "—a sssnake'sss tongue."

"Um… oh." Chianne swallowed. Dark, molten metal surged through the core of her abdomen. Ayame pushed herself up on her arms and smirked. Her loving smile had waxed toward the naughty side of things. "…OH…"


Chianne was sure that she could not have written a better experience than last night, not by any stretch of the imagination. There was a perfection and utter lack of awkwardness for which she strived and read about. She had heard that, in reality, the mechanics of sex were far more frank and prone to failing (being awkward and messy, not working properly, being just damn painful without 'melting into pleasure', as she so often read it did, and not being simultaneous, that sort of thing), especially with novices, but Ayame had proven all of those theories incorrect in the most delightful ways. However refined Ayame looked fully-dressed in the daylight, in bed, she was the earthly manifestation of the demon of lust after a few drinks and double-shot espressos. Or stoned; it was hard to tell which sometimes.

After waking up sore and feeling deliciously languid, resting on Ayame's smooth shoulder with Ayame's well-toned arm possessively across her chest, Chianne had woken her new lover with several well-placed suction-kisses and had gained a brief, sleepy make-out session before she had remembered that she had left her mother screaming outside her door late the previous evening. Since she would much rather have her mother yell at her outside than find her in bed, naked, with another woman, who was also very much naked, Chianne had hurriedly dressed and entered the kitchen expecting her mother to be waiting with a steak knife and a sawed-off shotgun. However, her mother was drinking coffee in her work uniform and staring at the toaster while it warmed a Pop-Tart, either with zero memory of the previous night or a newfound store of incredible good-humor, patience, and utter lack of care for her daughter's conduct. Chianne introduced Ayame to her mother as her new friend from school, to which her mother had only lightly waved and commented on how tall and pretty Ayame was before leaving for work.

Chianne had desperately wanted to shower with Ayame, but had showered alone, remembering D's strict instructions in her contract. It was a clause she wanted lifted; she would visit the petshop soon. She wondered how Ayame was going to clean herself after last night, though Chianne noticed (somewhat disappointed because she had heard it was supposed to add a certain glide to the whole experience) Ayame did not sweat. She was only half-surprised when, after stepping out of the shower, Ayame was suddenly as clean as though she had just blow-dried her hair, and her suit was as clean and dry as though it had just been pulled from the dryer and ironed. After being thrown on the floor last night, the suit should have been rumpled. Chianne changed into a Mandarin shirt, full-bodied pleated skirt, and knee-high combat boots, before dragging Ayame out of the apartment by her wrist.

Ayame should only have been familiar with Chinatown and, as of last night, the route from Chinatown to Chianne's apartment, but the snake seemed to have an inexhaustible knowledge of romantic and fun places to visit, and an inexhaustible supply of money. They played at a huge arcade for a couple of hours, where Ayame displayed that she was incredibly adept at Dance Dance Revolution in maniac double-pad, level-ten, jumping-off-the-machine ways that stunned the hardcore regulars, of which Chianne was one. Ayame took Chianne shopping for far more clothes than Chianne could ever hope to afford in a year, given that she was living with a single mother who barely had money to pay the rent, showing her gothic emporiums and independent stores even she had never seen before. They ate lunch in a sidewalk café, where Chianne delighted in watching peoples' irritated reactions (mostly a lot of eye-rolling and whispered comments to their companions, which seemed anticlimactic) when she made it painfully obvious with hand-holding, frequent kisses, and loud pet-names that she was avant-garde enough to date another woman.

Ayame was great fun; she was appropriately grudging, but gave in to any request after Chianne had whined and meowed, or hung on her arm for a few moments. By the end of the night, when they were walking down a section of the boardwalk lined by midway games (half of which Ayame had beaten with ease and won Chianne several plush animals, including a huge dragon she was carrying under its arms), Ayame had confessed that she had never met anybody as amazing as Chianne, and that she wanted to spend the rest of her life protecting her, supporting her, and standing by her side.

Ayame had proposed on bended knee shortly after that, with a gorgeous Celtic ring and everybody on the boardwalk applauding when Chianne had responded favorably, crying, and Ayame had jumped up and swung her around, kissing her. It was very romantic. They had another very romantic night after that. It was so romantic that Chianne's mother had decided to retire early and not care that Chianne had a guest spending the night on a school night, and it was definitely romantic enough to merit another sound-barrier.

The next day, Monday, February 14, Chianne took another painfully lonely shower, twisting the ring on her finger and thinking deeply. The euphoria from the previous twenty-four hours was being eaten by the nagging realization that things were moving rather quickly and that, much as she did not want to remember, something seemed a little off with Ayame. She couldn't put her finger on it, but Chianne was sure that there were times when she had seen Ayame's smile edge with cold malice as she looked the opposite direction. But, no, it must have been a hallucination; Ayame was always as chipper as ever when Chianne made a questioning noise.

You're just nervous because this is moving so quickly, and it seems too good to be true. I need to stop by the petshop to talk to Count D about all of this. I mean, Ayame's human inside and out; this much I know. Human enough, anyway. Chianne grinned to herself, blushing. Oh, yes she is. Mom's going to have a fit when I tell her that I'm going to get married to a chick. I think it's illegal in California or something, but it doesn't matter. And… I don't really want to get married right now anyway. Not officially.

Chianne finished quickly, dressed in one of her new outfits, and lead Ayame out of the apartment complex to the bus stop. She had originally planned to ditch school today since she couldn't stomach facing Mae and Michael, or anybody else who was happy or in some other way not miserable, but she had something new to show off. It didn't matter what all of those closed-minded bastards at school thought: she was with another woman, and nobody was going to say it was wrong. She was also going to rub it in Mae's face. She didn't need Mae anymore.

Really, she didn't.

Really. She didn't want her, not at all.

Really, she hoped she got jealous as hell.

Chianne found Michael and Mae at their usual lunch hideout in one of the band practice rooms in an obscure hallway. Mae was sitting on a stool and tuning her acoustic guitar (the one painted with all of the cool designs, lines of circles of descending radii, Polynesian-looking tattoos, and the like), and Michael was stretched out against the wall, reading Angels and Demons with one hand and eating a sandwich with the other. Chianne motioned for Ayame to duck below the hallway window and leaned toward the cracked-open door, listening. They hadn't seen her at school all day, and for all she knew, they were talking about her.

It turned out that they actually were, for once.


"She probably just felt like taking another mental health day," said Michael.

"She's being shallow." Mae plucked one of the guitar strings a few times. "She's… I don't know, trying to put all of this off on me again."

"Oh, come on. Maybe she just felt like taking a day off. You can't blame her for hurting. Really, she lost out on a great prize."

Mae looked up. Michael was smirking over the top of his book.

"You're terrible. No, Mike, she's just being a bitch again. And she never had a chance in the first place. I don't know." She looked back down at Lord Gackt Magellan the Guitar and plucked at the A-string. "…I just feel so bad."

"I know you do. Don't."

"She's just… I can't tell her that I want to distance from her, you know? I think she'd shrivel up and die if I did. She's so draining. It's just… there's something missing there. It's like we're on two different levels. I just need space."

"I know, Prince. We've talked about it time and again. Don't worry about it."

Mae plucked a string abruptly. "…I'm not in the mood, Mike. Don't call me that."

"I wasn't implying anything." Michael set his book face-down on its pages and stood, holding up his hands in a disarming gesture. "I was just using my pet name for the lady-Prince that rescued me, saved my soul and—"

"You're full of it."

"At least I'm not calling you 'Desperada' anymore."

"Yeah, why don't you come to your senses?"

"I have enough to see what's laid out on my table."

"You're done."

"Very." Michael reached around Mae's back and plucked a random string. "At least I'm not calling you Yuki-sama or Seishirou-san today."

"Michael, you're an asshole." Mae pushed her forefinger and thumb out across her eyes and rested her forehead against the bridge of her hand, elbow in the crook of her guitar. Michael stood awkwardly behind her. "That's not funny."

"…sorry."

"No, it's okay, just… I don't know."

"Let's not think about this today. Come on, this is supposed to be a celebration." Michael wrapped his arms around Mae's shoulders and kissed the back of her neck. "I'm sorry, all right? No more worrying? Please?"

"…I really just want her to leave me alone. I just can't… tell her off. I just want her to be happy and bugger off."

"I know. I know. We've talked again and again about this, and my answer never changes." Michael kissed her again and rested against her back. "Come on, no more worry. You have no reason to feel bad. Lunch is almost over. Do you want to review the trig identities? I can put that program in your TI-83—"

The door slammed open against the wall. Michael and Mae looked up. A tall woman, or, rather, another woman-in-a-suit-who-wasn't-Mae, stood in the doorway, arms crossed and glaring coldly. Michael instinctively tightened his grip on Mae. The woman's eyes were glowing green, and a green aura was starting to glow around her form.

"…may we help you?" said Michael, quite a bit less coolly than he would have liked to sound.

The woman did not respond. Chianne jumped out behind the wall and grabbed the woman's arm, begging her not to do anything. Michael gaped.

"Chianne? What are you doing here?"

"Chianne…" said Mae. "How long were you out there?"

"Long enough!" Chianne gripped the woman's arm, thinking. Her timid, begging demeanor was lagging. "You shallow bitch! You're a fair-weather friend!"

"Is angst you create for yourself the bad weather she has to endure to be honorable?" said Michael. "Chianne, shut up. She's been a hell of a lot more loyal to you than anybody should be. Don't you dare call her that."

"Mike, let me handle this." Mae straightened and stood, setting Magellan on the ground and squaring her shoulders. "Chianne, let's go outside, if your… um… friend would not mind—"

"Yeah, Chianne, who is that, anyway?"

"My fiancée!" Chianne pulled the black-haired woman down by the back of her neck and kissed her pointedly, staring at Mae the entire time. Michael gaped again. Mae's shoulders slackened in shock. "A true prince, not a liar and a player!"

Oh, God. Where the hell did she pick this one up? Michael looked the woman over, regaining his usual composure. I hope she knows damn well what she's getting into. That, or she's another ego-feeding butch chick who needs a source of ego-inflation. Chianne doesn't deserve that. What the hell is going on?

"Chianne, come on…" said Mae.

"You hurt Csssshianne," said the woman. Michael narrowed his eyes. The hell is with the hiss? Don't you dare get on Mae's case. You don't know anything about this. "You don't dessssserve to lick her shoessss."

"Um. Yes," said Michael. "It's very nice that you care, but who are—"

"Sssssilencssse!" The woman threw her hand out toward Michael, and Michael felt his larynx shut off. He felt his throat and stared. What the HELL? Sorcery?

"Listen, lady." Mae straightened once again and crossed her arms. "I don't know what Chianne told you, but this is none of your business, and I never—"

"You hurt Csssshianne. None of your reasssssonssss justify that."

"Yes, they do. Who the hell are you, anyway? And what the hell business is this of yours?"

The woman darted forward and upper-cut toward Mae's jaw. Mae caught the woman's fist and her other hand before she could punch Mae in the stomach. Michael lunged toward them and caught a glimpse of Mae's pained, shocked face at the woman's strength, the latter of whom threw Mae into the wall before she could knee the woman in the stomach and before Michael could break their hands. The woman smirked at Michael and kicked him into the wall beside Mae, blowing the wind from his lungs.

"Sssstay out of thissss, boy."

She's a better fighter than Mae! Shit! Shit! The woman walked over, grabbed Mae by her collar, and dragged her to her eye level—one handed; even Mae can't do that! Oh my god. This chick can't be human—tilting her head and looking Mae over scornfully. Michael struggled for breath, unable to move. The woman threw Mae into the bundle of music stands in the corner, then smashed Magellan on the back of the stool, breaking its frame clean in half.

Chianne followed her new friend out of the room, apparently terrified and torn. She paused at the doorway, and the woman dragged her back into the hall by her wrist. Why nobody had come running at the noise, Michael had no idea.

Mae groaned and stirred beneath the stands. Michael gasped, finally regaining his ability to breathe and move as his back unlocked, and stumbled over to Mae.

"Mae!" He coughed; his larynx had violently opened. "Are you all right?"