A/N: Finally I have written something for this fandom. Underrated ship, I love them fr? This most likely won't be my only IJ fanfic, I have a few ideas and I'll see what I can do. In the meantime hope you enjoy this. :D
It started with a headache. Such was life for Reagan every morning. The meetings usually brought them on. She loved the gang, but man, were they a pain in the neck from time to time.
Gigi Thompson was sitting near her, watching her, cautiously. Reagan caught her eye, biting her lip.
Gigi was always someone she'd admired, even if she would never admit it. She was beautiful, for one. She was arrogant… arrogantly charming.
Reagan shook herself out of it. She was not swooning over her. No way.
Of course, Reagan knew that Gigi thought she was perfect. And the worst part was, maybe Reagan agreed. That woman manipulated the whole world with a smile.
She had power, charm… and there wasn't anything Reagan loved more than going mad with power.
Although, Gigi wasn't giving her that usual leer. For once, she almost seemed… concerned?
Reagan groaned, rubbing her eyes. She eyed her hands. Did she look that bad? Why was it bothering her so much, anyway? She always looked like she'd just got out of bed (which she had).
She felt her cheeks burning. Suddenly, she was small and juvenile, like an embarrassed little kid.
Or maybe it was because Gigi was still staring at her.
Reagan hid her face between her hands. This was distracting her from her job, for crying out loud. The headache was bad enough, she didn't need to deal with… these feelings… as well. She was delirious, exhausted. Absolutely not, ahem, falling in love.
She sighed. As Glenn and Myc got into some ridiculous fight, Reagan really wished the meeting would just end already.
At last, freedom finally came. Reagan stood back, packing up her stuff. She needed some ibuprofen, ASAP.
She stood away from the others. She loved them, really, but her head was still pounding. For once, she even needed a break from Brett. She hoped he would get the hint and let her be.
She craved a few drinks, even if they did not mesh with her aching head. She rarely indulged.
"You okay, girl?"
Gigi was staring at her once more. Reagan forced herself to focus.
"Yeah, yeah," she got out. "Just a headache."
Of course Gigi would talk to her, looking at her like that, just as she had all day. Reagan turned away, flustered. Gigi, despite being morally reprehensible (as was the entirety of Cognito Inc), could be surprisingly tender. Even evil overlords had a soft spot.
"I was headin' to the bar after this," Gigi told her. "You can come with."
Reagan swallowed. Just her and Gigi?
She wanted it more than she realised. Her headache suddenly didn't feel too bad.
"I could use a few," she admitted, casually.
The women arrived at the bar. The sun was setting, and the sky was dark.
It was a beautiful night. Gigi flashed Reagan another charming smile. Reagan turned away, feeling flushed once more. She had slipped on one of her nicer coats, so she didn't look too much like Gigi had just dragged her out of a casket.
They arrived at the bar; there was music, lights, and crowds. Everyone was way too fashionable. Reagan normally did not care what others wore, but standing with Gigi was… different. Even with the jacket, Reagan felt like an awkward teen in comparison.
Gigi didn't seem to care; she was practically ethereal. She kept her eye on Reagan, leading her right through the crowds.
Gigi always picked the best places. She had the best taste in everything; she was the one who controlled the trends. Power was drawn to her, like she was a magnet.
Reagan wondered if she was another victim of that lure.
They sat together, right up the front. After ordering their drinks, the two were left in a silence.
Reagan found herself yawning, of all things.
"Overworking yourself again?" Gigi sighed. "You ain't ever getting rid of those eye bags."
"They're part of my look," Reagan half-joked.
The bartender placed the drinks in front of the women. Reagan sipped her tequila. She eyed the jewelry around Gigi's neck. Definitely wasn't cheap. More often than not Reagan was focused on function over fashion, but she had to admire Gigi's drive to dress to impress, every single day.
"Whatcha starin' at me for?" Gigi asked.
"Uh-" Reagan coughed. "Nothing!"
"Sheesh, girl," Gigi rolled her eyes. "What, you in love with me, or something?"
"No way," Reagan snapped. "It's just - well, I like to sit there and think, okay?!"
She grimaced. No. She couldn't fall in love again, have her little heart shatter into a million pieces.
Gigi just laughed. "You ain't the first. Y'all can't get enough of me."
"Yeah, tell that to Andre," Reagan replied.
"That was a one time thing," Gigi huffed.
"Whatever," Reagan waved it off.
She sipped her drink, suppressing another yawn. Welp, at least her headache was finally clearing up.
"When was the last time you slept, girl?" Gigi asked.
She almost sounded concerned.
"Why do you care?" Reagan muttered.
"I dunno," Gigi waved her hands, "because we're friends? Co-workers? Fellow fucking human beings?"
"No, I mean," Reagan turned to her, "why do you care? Thought you only loved your own fucking phone."
"Mmm, girl, you don't think much of me," Gigi retorted. "Of course I give a shit about your stupid ass! We all do! I know Brett's your bestie or whatever the fuck, but the rest of us are allowed to look out for you as well, damn!"
Reagan just stared at her, words failing. Sometimes, it was hard to tell that the gang cared for her. (Brett's overbearing hugs being the exception.) They showed their affections in odd ways. Honestly? It was nice to get some blatant verbal confirmation. Cliche, but it went a long way.
As manipulative as she was, Gigi was brutally honest. She was cruel, but kind as well. Reagan liked that. She realised she liked so, so many things about Gigi.
You're beautiful, she wanted to say, but that would fuel Gigi's already-massive ego. Part of Reagan didn't care, though.
She stared at Gigi's overly-manicured nails. Suddenly, her brain was empty.
"Nice manicure," she said, dumbly.
Maybe she was drunk already.
"Flattery?" Gigi raised a brow. "That's not like you."
Reagan tch-ed. "Well, I could just insult you, like Myc would."
"You're a lot worse than a couple of insults, girl," Gigi muttered.
"That's the nicest thing anyone's said to me," Reagan grinned. Sincerely.
And Gigi just laughed.
"You're a mean bitch, Ridley," she sighed, "but so am I."
Reagan stared at Gigi, leaning her head towards her shoulder. The dull light above shone on her hair.
"We could take over the world," Reagan muttered.
"Already have," Gigi retorted, smirking.
She was right. They were working with the shadow government, after all.
But if Reagan was going to take over the world… who else would she rather do it with?
"Cheers, to world domination," Reagan raised her drink.
"Cheers," Gigi agreed, and they clinked their glasses together.
Bonus scene:
("I saw you and Gigi holding hands!" Brett told Reagan. "Are you guys… dating?!"
("None of your business," Reagan huffed.
"You guys are so cute," Brett gushed.
"Shut up," Reagan teased.
She ignored Andre sobbing in the distance.)
A/N: Evil women here to take over. Thanks for reading!