Thumb Rings and Ballet Slippers

The coldness of the floor beneath her contrasted comfortably with the soft way in which her room mate was braiding her hair. Nimble fingers soothed her as she spoke aloud, the fear prominent in her voice despite the pretty dimpled smile plastered on her all too perfect face. It was habit now, almost second nature. For Victoria to wake up in a cold sweat after a particularly bad nightmare, walk to her friend's room and knock on the door gently. She'd open it gingerly, peering in like an uncertain child while Jemima would stir and sit up slowly in her bed. It would take two blinks of those sleepy brown eyes, a little shuffle of dancer's feet and a tiny movement of chapped lips for the younger to get out of bed and hold her friend's hand.

The first time it happened, it had been a month since they started to live together and Victoria paced alone in her room for an hour before settling on waking her friend. Victoria had always had horrifically vivid nightmares, it had become part of her life that she'd grown to accept. They were never too poignant nor too frequent; she would dream of running barefooted and in a forest with someone chasing her, or getting lost in a packed train station, or drowning and these dreams would happen once or twice a month. It wasn't the content or the consistency of the nightmares that scared her, it was how real they seemed that would make her wake shaking, her hands reaching for someone to come save her. When she was younger, she'd run into Quaxo's room and he'd hold her as she clung to his nightshirt. When Quaxo left for university, she'd call for her Father who'd come to her room in his robe and watch a film with her or read to her. She could deal with nightmares, could happily go to sleep each night without worrying too much about them because she knew someone would be there when she woke up, she'd never entertained the thought that one day she'd wake up alone.

At first, she thought it was silly to wake Jemima, someone she barely knew at this point, over a dream. But she remembered pacing her room, the noises outside her window taunted her, her hair would brush against her skin and make her jump and finally she decided that she couldn't do this alone. Jemima had been so understanding too, which had made it easier, her new friend didn't pry but simply made her a cup of tea and sat her on the living room floor (it never occurred to them to sit on one of their armchairs) so that she could braid her hair while Victoria whispered the details about her nightmare.

It was early now, the sky outside was turning slowly from black to navy blue and birds were chirping. Jemima kept her yawns to herself as Victoria came to the end of her nightmare (this time it featured a man trying to pull her into a car in the middle of a busy street while everyone ignored her.)

"I mean, the dream itself wasn't nice," Victoria said as Jemima began to finish her braid, "It's just that I turned around and he was there. I thought about waking him up, telling him about it but then I just thought about how stupid it is and I couldn't. I couldn't have him look at me as if I'm an idiot. Does that make sense?"

"It makes sense," Jemima said, tying the braid now before leaning back so that Victoria could turn around to face her directly, "But he's a nice guy, I'm sure he wouldn't have."

This dream had come at the worst time and Victoria cursed her luck. She had two days off the café, needing to take all of her leave before resigning, and Plato decided it would be a nice idea to spend some time with her at her flat given that Jemima would be out for both evenings. It was the first time they slept together in the same bed, a simple gesture but it seemed like such a big deal to Victoria. She felt like a giddy teenager as they brushed their teeth amiably together, as she wore his shirt to bed and he held her against his bare torso as their legs intertwined. She felt safe there, found the warmth between them comforting and was lulled into sleep quickly, a smile on her face. Then the nightmare hit, and she woke up as she always had when nightmares plagued her sleep, curled in a ball at the edge of her bed. Plato's arm was tossed over her lazily and for a second she considered waking him. But then she got up, peeling away the strong arm of her sleeping companion and padded down the corridor to her friend's room, as she always did.

"I know," Victoria said, rubbing her sleepy eyes, "I know, I'm being silly."

"No, you're not. It sounded scary," Jemima said softly, "And sometimes you just need a cup of tea and your hair plaited after a dream like that."

Victoria smiled up at her friend before groaning, "Oh God, you were working tonight. You're probably shattered. What time did you get home?"

Jemima began to giggle, "That doesn't matter, Vic, you know it doesn't."

Victoria smiled a little at her friend, allowing herself to bask in the warmth that radiated from her brown eyes that crinkled as she gave an over enthusiastic grin in order to cheer up the blonde. It was moments like this that made Victoria realise how truly glad she was to have this little elfin girl in her life, how grateful she was for nimble fingers that played with her hair and caring hands that created the perfect cup of tea effortlessly. She tried to picture any of her friends from home that would wait up with her after a nightmare but it didn't work, she only saw girls complaining how puffy their eyes would be the next day. She had an urge to cling to Jemima, to grasp her and let her know how much she appreciated her but that wasn't how they worked. There was an unspoken mutual dependency between them, Jemima needed Victoria to act as the stability that she had missed from her childhood, Victoria needed Jemima to act as an impartial and sensitive ear so that Victoria could occasionally accept that she wasn't as put together as she thought. Jemima needed Victoria. Victoria needed Jemima.

"So I'm led in my girlfriend's bed," Victoria blinked in surprise and Jemima's lips broke out into a little smile as Plato walked barefooted into the living room, "And I wake up as the sun rises because my darling girl hasn't thought to buy curtains, and I'm thinking that this is great but then I realise that it's really cold and my beautiful girlfriend isn't with me any more. She's with her small, dark and handsome room mate. Should I be concerned?"

"It's early, we'll go back to bed," Victoria says, smiling sheepishly as she blinks up at Plato, a bemused smile on his face and his arms crossed. Jemima reaches out and squeezes Victoria's hand before standing slowly,

"Definitely," she says with an impish grin, "We've been having a passionate love affair all along. So, I'll leave you both to it, I'm just down the hall if you need me."

She was there and then she was gone, Victoria watched as she left the room and smiled a little before returning her gaze back to her boyfriend.

"What's up?" he asked as she stood.

"You'll think I'm stupid," she said, her brows furrowed slightly but a smile on her face in an effort to make it seem as though she didn't really care about the dream that kept replaying itself in her mind.

"No I won't," he moved closer so that he could run his hands over her crossed arms, "You don't have to tell me if you don't want to, but just know that I'll never think you're stupid. Okay?"

Oh darling Plato, she thought as she blinked up into his concerned face. There was kindness there, etched into every feature of his beautiful face and she wanted to kiss him. It made her lower her arms which then wound themselves around his midriff and let her rest her face on his chest.

"I just had a nightmare," she mumbled, "Jemima helped to calm me down, I didn't want to wake you."

He ran his hand down the length of her plait, "I'm guessing she did this, then?"

Victoria nodded and he kissed the top of her head, before pulling back slightly.

"You could have woken me, if you'd liked," he said gently, "I understand if you prefer to deal with it with Jemima but if you'd wanted to, you could have woken me."

She smiled softly as he lowered his head to press a chaste kiss to her lips before leading her back to her bedroom. They lay in bed for a while, Victoria lay atop of him this time, her head pressed against his chest so that the thump of his heartbeat reminded her that he was there. That he would be there when she woke. It was one of the most comforting feelings in the world.

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She was drawing to the end of her second week and Jemima seemed to fit into her team of sisters like she had been there her entire life.

She'd passed her trial run with flying colours, had wowed Exotica with her abilities to pick drunken men off the floor, to maintain a conversation and to pacify angry men who began to argue over bar girls. Now she felt as though she was a fully fledged daughter of Exotica, with her customised uniform and her smooth lips that would convince any customer to spend a little extra on a fancier bottle of wine, or another pint. Her hands were tired from clapping when Etcetera stood on the bar to dance and her face ached from laughing as Exotica told a funny story.

It was Friday night, a night that was particularly busy and difficult as Jemima had learned the previous week. She just thanked God that she wasn't behind the bar this time, having to keep track of who handed her fistfuls of notes when. She was on the floor tonight, circling around groups of customers and ensuring they were having a good time, which shouldn't be a difficult job but given that she hadn't slept very well that night on account of her room mate's nightmares, had a whole day of classes and only two cups of tea that day, she was exhausted. She passed Etcetera on their rounds of the pub and the blonde would giggle and mime for her to smile as Jemima yawned or blinked sleepily.

It was getting later now, an hour and thirty two minutes exactly until closing time and people were leaving until there was only a bunch of university boys left in the corner and a group of girls talking to Exotica and giggling every now and then. Jemima was in the middle of playing a card game with the university boys, sat strategically next to the shyest so that she didn't have to worry about being jostled around when they got excited, when Etcetera tapped her excitedly on the shoulder.

"Are you busy?" she asked, that grin of hers spread across her freckled face and her eyes lit up with mirth.

"I'm busy losing. Peter here has been helping me," she said, nudging the fumbling boy to her right who gave her an uncertain smile.

"Oh," Etcetera said, moving between Jemima and this poor Peter boy who began to flush red at the attention from two pretty girls while the rest of his more confident friends watched, "I'm sure Peter and the rest of these boys won't mind if our lovely second barmaid finishes the game with them while I borrow you."

Jemima blinked up at Etcetera before shrugging, she nodded her goodbyes to the boys before leaving. She heard them jeer for her to come back but the yells grew quiet when a part-time worker who had simply been cleaning the bar came over and sat where Jemima had, flashing them a toothy smile as she threw her arm around Peter. Etcetera linked arms with Jemima, bringing her closer so that she could whisper in her ear inconspicuously,

"I'm leaving early tonight, I have to be up early tomorrow for an audition thing so the big Boss said I can go home now. Right when my stupid guy friends have just meandered in and demanded to be entertained, could you pretty please sit with them and make sure they don't drink too much? Pretty please?"

"Oh, of course," Jemima said with her elfin grin positioned on her lips, "Good luck on your audition."

She allowed herself to be taken to a table where two boys, they could have only been her age or a little older, sat joking around and nudging each other every so often. She assumed it would be a simple hour; sit with these two, smile in the right places, talk about whatever they wanted and then skulk home. Etcetera announced her loudly with a flourish of her hands and they both turned, both of them held a sense of familiarity and it hit Jemima unexpectedly, causing her to peer at them with a confused expression.

"I'm heading home, kids," Etcetera said with a grin, "So my lovely sister here will be sitting with you for this evening. Play nice, she's new and we don't want to scare her off."

"You're going home already?" the taller of the two said. He had a face that was instantly likable, with high cheekbones, a pointed chin and a smile that remained on his face even in rest. He ran a hand through his chestnut brown hair before standing to kiss Etcetera on the cheek as a goodbye, he was tall but very much in proportion with strong hands and broad shoulders. Etcetera swatted him playfully and he laughed, the warmth of the sound filled Jemima's small body and elicited a small smile from her freshly bitten lips (She found that she often bit her lips when working to subliminally tell customers that she would not be drinking.) He had a timeless look, he could have been eighteen or twenty-eight, and when he smiled his eyes crinkled. He blinked down at Jemima, for he towered over her petite frame, and smiled politely.

"Hello lovely new sister," he said, "And what might your name be?"

"She's the scalding hot beverage assailant," the smaller man said and realisation hit Jemima like a wave, she must have looked surprised because the smaller continued to laugh, "Not every day you have a pretty girl bump into you and ruin your favourite shirt."

So this was the twat that made her cry when she got fired from her old job.

"Her name is actually Jemima and while I'm sure your hot beverage escapades are fascinating, I must be off. Pouncival, Tumblebrutus; I will see you when I see you. Jemima, good luck."

The taller, Tumblebrutus, raked a hand through his hair and shrugged, "We actually came here to see you, Etcetera so we might as well be off now, really. I can drive you home?"

"Oh, my hero in a Hyundai," the blonde cooed, "I'm sure Jemima won't miss you two too much so I will graciously accept that offer, so long as Pounce is in the back because I call shotgun."

"Nuh-uh, I'm staying with hot beverage girl and reminiscing. It's not every day you get to know your attacker," Pouncival said with a small smirk, "I'll meet you back at the house, Tumble."

That was it, Etcetera left with Tumblebrutus in tow and Jemima was left to blink at this familiar stranger who seemed all to happy to just look at her back. She let him speak at her, not really taking in his words but watching his face. He had a wider face than his previous companion, a strong jaw line and soft freckles dusted ever so lightly on his cheeks. He was very unassuming, it was very obvious that he was handsome but it wasn't the type of attractiveness that would make you stop in your tracks in the street. He wouldn't look her dead in the eye, for which she was thankful for, so his hazel eyes focused on the space between her eyebrows as a substitute. His lips were quite chapped and he'd lick them every now and then as though he was nervous, but his voice was so confident and jovial that it counteracted this tiny sign of insecurity. His hair was a dark ash brown and had no real direction, she guessed that it hadn't been brushed properly for a good few days as it stuck out in awkward angles.

"What was your name again, coffee girl?" he asked, snapping her out of her observations.

She wrinkled her nose, playing at being disgusted, "Ew, coffee? It was tea, a very good cup of tea too."

"Oh I'm glad, I wouldn't want any bog standard PG Tips tea stain on my shirt," Jemima noted that at first glance, this Pouncival could seem quite arrogant, as was her first impression of him when he taunted her in a busy street, but there were times where he'd cock his head to the side and smile or he'd run a hand through his shaggy brown hair, that made him immensely likable. He had a boyish charm, you could picture him as the naughty kid at the back of the class who shouted out proudly when he knew the answer and sulked when he didn't.

"I'm Jemima," she answered with her eyebrow raised and a small smile.

"It's a bit of a funny name, isn't it?" he leaned forward onto the table, taking a sip of his drink as he did, "Sounds like a Victorian maid name."

"Your name is Pouncival," she bit back, noting his relaxed smile, "I don't think you're in any position to talk."

"You wound me, Miss Jemima."

That was how the next hour went; witty retorts being passed back and forth, a few eye rolls and muffled laughter. Jemima would get him another drink and politely refuse when he offered to buy her one, they'd talk, they'd joke and anyone who was watching would think they knew each other for more than just the hour.

"So, what's working with Cettie like?" he said finally, his goofy smile prominent on his face.

"She made everything so easy, she's just so friendly. Really, she's great," Jemima said honestly.

"She's a pain in the arse," he mumbled, "She laughs too loud, she gets too drunk and calls me at three o'clock in the morning, she takes ages getting ready when we need to go out and she's obsessed with my older brother."

Jemima stared at him, her eyes blinking slowly as the words fell from his chapped lips with such a blatantly casual demeanour. There was obviously some resentment there, his smile was too strained, his eyes shining too brightly. She let her mouth fall open, ready to query him but was stopped abruptly as Exotica called for the customers to clear out.

"Oh," she said, throwing a look to the clock, "I best start cleaning, and you probably have a home to get to."

He nodded shortly, helped her carry the empty glasses to the bar before holding his hand out with a grin.

"It was nice to meet you," he said with a grin, "Even if it brought back traumatic memories of scalding hot beverage attacks."

She took his hand, giggling as she shook it. He let his hand fall back to his side and turned on his heel, leaving no promise of seeing her again because he was unsure if he could be around her again. It hit him, when he got outside and the cold air whipped his face and brought him out of the fuzzy haze that had fallen over him whilst he'd been speaking to her, he had very nearly spoken to her about his very present issues with his favourite girl and her infatuation with his brother. That wasn't a very Pouncival thing to do, to be frank, it was quite the opposite of a Pouncival thing to do. It wasn't even as though she'd entranced him and the words came out of his mouth against his will, not even as though she was all that perceptive and picked up on it naturally. He wanted to tell her, there was something about her bitten lips and big brown eyes that made her feel automatically trustworthy. He leant against the wall, looking out at the street and contemplating his walk to the nearest station that made him want to return back to the warm comforts of the bar behind him. He thought about this Jemima, wondered if she'd be catching the train home too. He thought about how young she seemed, how sweet, how naïve and automatically couldn't fathom her travelling home alone. She was too small, she should still have her parents come and pick her up.

So when it had been half an hour and the door opened, pouring light onto the pavement for a fraction of a second as she made her way out of work and shivered at the impact of cold air, he approached her with a good-natured smile and offered to walk her home.

"Have you been waiting?" she asked, smiling but obviously uncomfortable. Of course she was uncomfortable, this man that she had only just met now wanted to escort her back to her house.

"No, I've been procrastinating," it was true, he hadn't intended on waiting for her, it just kind of worked out like that, "I can't be fucked for public transport."

"Well, I'll be walking and it'll probably take you out of your way," she shrugged, wrapping her jacket tighter around her as the air's temperature seemed to drop a degree, "But I'm not opposed to company, it's up to you."

She looked smaller somehow in that jacket, the boots that she'd been wearing earlier replaced by scuffed converses and her hair down and framing her face, bringing attention to the wideness of her dark eyes. He couldn't let her walk home alone.

"Come on then, tea lady," he said with a wry smile.

They walked together, almost in complete sync. Jemima had no idea of personal space and he knew she didn't mean to but occasionally her hip would brush against his resting hand, making him whip it back and run it through his hair uncertainly. Pouncival didn't seem to understand that her little legs couldn't keep up with his confident strides and more than once had to hang back so that she could catch up. They didn't speak much, Jemima was always exhausted after a long shift and couldn't find the energy to maintain a conversation. When Pouncival started to fidget, obviously uncomfortable with the quiet, she racked her brain for an idea to start him talking.

"So Etcetera is with Tumblebrutus, huh?" she tried, "That's funny, she's never mentioned a boyfriend before."

He shook his head, keeping his eyes firmly on the road ahead in fear of blinking down at the elfin beside him and having his inner monologue pour out of his lips uncontrollably.

"Admetus, my other brother. They were a thing but now he's moved abroad," he said, "She still likes him a lot though."

Jemima raised her eyebrows a little, images of Etcetera complaining about her phone bill and sleepless nights flooding her mind, she supposed it made sense now. Pouncival paused as they got to the end of a street, peering at Jemima for instructions and instantly regretting it.

"It's just that he's not into her any more," he said suddenly, "And she can see it too, she's started to let go but her and Tumble have been getting closer now."

"I see," Jemima said, motioning for Pouncival to follow her as she crossed the road, "And is that a bad thing?"

"No, not a bad thing," he said, his words wavering in the cool air, "Just really, really inconvenient."

Jemima didn't pry, she knew better than to query a stranger on their personal life. She heard him chuckle roughly and he raked his hands through his hair again, a habit of his that she was getting used to.

"Shit, tea lady," he said, his laughter still audible in his voice, "I've really been a buzz kill tonight, huh? You probably don't care about Etcetera's state of affairs and I'm just boring you."

"It's okay," she was smiling, "I like Etcetera, it'd be nice to get to know her better. It's just..."

"It's just?"

"I figured we were talking more about your state of affairs," Pouncival's face was incredulous and she knew she had to save herself quickly, "You just had very strong opinions on her."

"She's one of my oldest friends," he said simply, "Okay, okay. Tea lady, what is your favourite film?"

"That's a pretty brash change of subject," Jemima said with a grin, "I don't have one really. I watch Breakfast at Tiffany's when I'm upset. What's yours?"

"That one where Kevin Spacey falls in love with a sixteen year old... American Beauty, that's the one. Okay, do you read?"

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He was being ridiculous, he should be happy. He had the most beautiful girl he'd ever laid eyes on tucked under his arm, her head resting on his chest and her hand on his hip. He'd look down every now and then to see her eyelashes flutter and her mouth hang open slightly, completely enraptured by the animated candlestick and teapot on the TV. She was falling asleep on him, he'd have to carry her to bed and then she'd blink up at him with those pretty eyes of hers in a moment of awareness before smiling as he got in next to her and they'd sleep tangled up in each other again.

But she'd put on this film, this Disney film that she claimed to love and was appalled when she heard he'd never seen it. At first, it looked like everything he'd expected, with a pretty girl in a small village that sang about how pretty she was. He'd looked at her at that point, figuring that if Victoria didn't suit her so well with her porcelain skin and gracious smile she could pass for a Belle. Then the film developed, then the Beast came in and his stomach fell.

"You must control your temper," the characters chimed on the TV and Victoria joined in, mimicking their voices and then giggling to herself. He forced a smile as his chest tightened. She didn't know how much the sentence resonated with him, didn't know how badly he wanted to cover his eyes as the Beast stormed to the princess' room and yelled at her as he beat the door with his huge paws. He thought about the dent in the wall. He thought about Victoria.

An hour passed and Plato watched sceptically as the Beast turned from an angry monster to a kind and sensitive prince-like figure, knowing that it wasn't as easy as the film was trying to make out. That Beasts didn't just turn into princes through goodwill and faith. Victoria was asleep now, he could easily turn the film off and head to bed but he was immersed, he needed to see if the Beast messed up again. He held his breath as a man beat the Beast and jumped slightly as Jemima came in, her teeth chattering from the cold. He thought about Jemima and Victoria's friendship, would Jemima go after Plato if she ever found out about the Beast he was repressing? Was Jemima Gaston?

The Beast held Gaston by the throat, threatening to throw him off a roof and Plato finally had enough. He turned the TV off and whispered to his girlfriend's room mate that they'd be going to bed now.

"Okay, cool," she said with a smile, "I'm making tea, would you like any before you get to sleep?"

"No, we're good," he said, lifting Victoria into his arms and smiling slightly as she burrowed into his chest, her blonde hair tickling his neck. Jemima smiled fondly at them before whispering her good night as Plato made his way down the corridor into the bedroom.

He lay Victoria on the bed before shedding his shirt, in a moment of awareness she offered the most beautiful sleepy smile he'd ever seen. She stood slowly, kissed him gently and took her shirt off, allowing him his first glance at her bare skin and a bra. Her cheeks flushed as she held her arms out for him to slip his button up shirt onto her, she turned to button it up but his hands wrapped around her and he started to do it with her back facing his front, placing a kiss to the back of her neck that elicited a giggle.

When they lay in bed, the lights off and her head against his arm, he made a conscious decision that he would never turn into the Beast around Victoria. She was pure, she was sweet and he wouldn't ruin that by losing his damn temper. Jemima wouldn't have to turn into Gaston, Victoria didn't have to be afraid because Plato could control himself. He had to control himself.

Down the corridor, still sat in the kitchen with a nearly finished cup of tea, Jemima pressed her phone against her ear as the jovial voice of the boy she'd only just said goodbye to filled her head.

"I'm home, tea lady," he said and he was yawning, "You didn't have to make me call you. It's stupid o'clock in the morning, there was no one around to abduct me."

"You walked me home and refused to come in for a cup of tea, the least I could do was make sure you got to your house in one piece."

"Well I wasn't about to come and have a cup of tea with you, I really like this shirt."

(A/N: It's exam season here! That kind of sucks but I'm trying to be a diligent student, not that I'm doing too well though. How are you all doing, anyway? Sorry this took a while again!)