Warnings: femme slash.

6. shaking keeps me steady

Since arriving in town she'd danced in the town square and eaten something so sweet it had made some strange place below her ears ache and had touched a hundred different textures she had no words for. She'd sprawled on the floor of the library with Flynn, looking over charts mapping territories so vast it made her dizzy. Hundreds and thousands of cities, continents, water deep enough between them to drown ships, drown mountains.

It was her first time out in a boat, but it didn't affect her as much as it probably would have a day ago. The fact that she couldn't swim seemed to be an endless source of amusement for Flynn. "Don't fall in if it worries you," Flynn said. "But I'll save you if you ask nicely."

"If I fall in, I'm taking you with me," Rapunzel retorted. The muscles in Flynn's upper arms jumped as she pulled the oars, taking them into water peppered with the reflection of stars. Pascal was sitting on the curve of the helm like a tiny green lieutenant. "So don't get any funny ideas."

"Like I said, Blondie, after all that fuss? You're seeing these damn lights if I have to hold your eyes open."

"You'd have to save me first," Rapunzel said, feeling giddy. Her hands kept burrowing into her dress, bunching the fabric.

Flynn moved the oars smoothly through the water, barely splashing. She contrived to look distantly amused whenever Rapunzel talked to her, like an aunt indulging an excited child, but her own eyes kept scanning the sky. For her part, Rapunzel began to wonder if the feeling in her stomach was closer to excitement or anxiety.

She figured it out when Flynn's oar accidentally knocked against the side of the boat, nearly making her jump out of her skin. "You all right?" Flynn asked, not breaking stride.

"Yes." She could barely get the word out. "Flynn?"

"Yeah?"

She couldn't remember what she'd planned to say. She tried picturing where they'd come from. How they'd soar. How many. Maybe there was a special place where they released them. Maybe something would go wrong this year, and they'd end up not releasing them at all. Maybe they'd given up on the lost princess.

"You know, it's really kind of a twist of fate you got to see the lights every year at all."

Rapunzel had been staring at the ripples made by the oars, absorbed. At Flynn's voice she looked up. "What?"

"The lights," Flynn said patiently. "I've been thinking about that. The only reason you wanted to leave your tower in the first place was because you wanted to see your lights and your mother wouldn't let you, right? Otherwise, I mean, who knows how long you would've sat in there."

Not too much longer, maybe. The lights had been the main incentive, but the itch had been growing in her for years now. But Rapunzel nodded.

"The whole reason Gothel built that tower was so she could hide you away from civilization. But she just happened to build it northeast of the city. Which, by the way? Is impressive. Seriously, one woman, building that thing? Either she got an army of dwarves to help her or she's stronger than a team of oxen. Has she considered further business ventures?"

"I don't understand," Rapunzel interrupted. "What are you talking about, 'northeast'?"

"What I'm saying is," Flynn said, "is that the winds tend to travel from southwest to northeast. If she'd built that tower anywhere else, you might've never even known they existed. I mean, you might have still seen some of them, who knows. But where you were, the winds took them right to you, every year."

Rapunzel stared at her. Flynn shrugged. "I'm not one for destiny or anything," Flynn said, "but if I was, it'd look pretty close."

Mother. Now that the pinnacle of her trip was almost here, the dread she felt for her imminent return nearly rivaled her anticipation for the show. "What if this isn't what I need it to be?" she said, almost to herself. "What if the moment I've dreamed about my whole life doesn't measure up to what it is in my head?"

"That'swhat you're worried about? Since when did you get so picky? You got to the city alive, you ate today, and you've got a front-row seat. You don't think that's good enough?"

"I need this to be great," she whispered.

Apparently satisfied with how far they were, Flynn pulled up the oars, let them drip a little into the water, before pulling them in entirely. "Close your eyes then," Flynn said. "But if you ask me, no matter how disappointing the end is, it's still better to finish the story. That way you can get started on a new one."

Rapunzel thought about arguing, but it made too much sense. The day's events had knocked a lot of the words she normally had out of her anyway. As the afternoon had worn on, she'd found herself talking less and listening more, because she sensed that worlds weren't meant to be redefined this rapidly. The city was full of people so accustomed to variety that variety had become mundane to them.

Something inside her—the same something that had pushed her out her tower window in the first place – knew that even if she returned to the city herself one day, she'd never be able to really integrate herself the way she wanted. Life was full of tower windows, and this one had been barred off before she'd even been born.

There weren't words enough to explain it, let alone to Flynn, so she kept what words she had left to herself.

Then the first wave of lanterns started drifting up from the city, and Rapunzel had no more words left for anything.

.

"Not bad," Flynn said, when the flow started to taper off. "Much better view from out here than it is from inside a jail cell, that's for sure."

Rapunzel's face was wet. Flynn had given her a handkerchief halfway through, apparently one of three she'd picked up at the city for this exact purpose. Rapunzel had used it until she'd turned around and saw Flynn holding two lanterns of her own, looking sheepish but also maybe a little proud, and then wiping away tears had been the last thing on Rapunzel's mind.

The lake was like glass and the lanterns bobbed around them like a thousand tiny suns, and now Rapunzel found herself looking at Flynn instead. Flynn exuded boredom, back against the bow, sprawled casually over the seat, but her eyes were riveted to the glow.

Later Rapunzel couldn't recall exactly when it was that she decided. It came somewhere between the realization that yes, this is everything I want and the realization that she'd had back at the kingdom gate – no, there are still other things I want. There was no one to tell her she was being selfish, no one to tell her to stop wanting.

She slid the satchel out from under the seat.

It took Flynn several minutes to notice. Eventually she lowered her eyes, opening her mouth to say something, then shut it as soon as she saw the satchel. She sat up slowly, moving her legs in closer to her body, like Rapunzel was a horse she was trying not to spook.

"I'm sorry," Rapunzel said, after neither of them had spoken for a time. "I was scared."

Flynn didn't say anything. She didn't look angry, but she wasn't smiling, either.

"I was scared and… to be honest, I'm… I'm still a little scared, but I know that you're scared too, even if you don't say you are, so…"

Flynn didn't move. The lights kept flickering off the buckles on her vest, making them blink.

"I know I should've given it to you earlier, but I couldn't, I thought that maybe…" Stop talking. Rapunzel couldn't help it. This was ruin and maybe gain and she was too out of her depth to know which one was coming. She thrust the satchel forward before she could change her mind.

Flynn didn't move to take it. "What did I tell you about trusting thieves?" she asked.

"Don't do it."

"You never listen to me."

Rapunzel didn't have a lot of breath to work with. "I'm sorry."

Flynn's eyes were amber under the light of the lanterns, narrow and lidded like a cat's. She reached out for the satchel, fingertips tracing the stitching along the top of the flap.

Rapunzel waited for her to take it. Instead, at last, Flynn flattened her palm and pushed down until the satchel was on the floor of the boat. Then Flynn's fingers found the soft hollow under Rapunzel's chin.

Flynn said, resignedly, "Well, this probably isn't the best idea I've ever had."

Her voice was barely above a breath. "Why?"

"You know why."

"No." She really didn't, and suddenly, she was desperate to. "Tell me."

"You think the worst people can do is talk?"

"What?" But with a sinking feeling, she realized Flynn had caught her exchange with the men after all. "Why should it matter?"

"You should have the chance to do things right."

She didn't know what to do. She kissed her mother good morning and good night every day on the cheek, so she knew what lips were for. Put it from your mind, darling flower, Mother had said, whenever Rapunzel had brought up the subject. You and someone else? The whole idea is demented. Besides, the man's fangs will pierce your cheek and your hazelnut soup will dribble into your lap, and then where will you be? Starving, that's where.

Flynn looked vulnerable. And angry, and worried. And Rapunzel wasn't sure what she wanted anymore, but her body knew what it needed, just like it had in the forest and in the town square. Dance. Dance, and touch. "So you would've just taken anyone who came to your tower, huh?" Flynn said, but her voice cracked under the bravado.

The pulse in her neck was beating against the pressure of Flynn's thumb. Flynn's eyes flickered, acknowledging the closing distance, but she made no other move when Rapunzel lifted her own hand, took Flynn's chin, tilted her face upwards, and kissed her on the cheek.

She held it there longer than she did with her mother. She closed her eyes, feeling the glow fade into the background. Flynn's skin was warm under her lips.

She felt something quaking – her, maybe? No, she was steady. She pulled away, looking at Flynn's face, and realized what it was.

Flynn was laughing.

Surprised, Rapunzel pulled back a bit further to watch her. Flynn's eyes were squeezed shut. When they opened again, they were alight with the reflection of the sky and the water and the lanterns and, absurdly, Rapunzel wondered what magic Flynn had, to make her glow so brightly when she wasn't even singing. "Thank you," Flynn said sincerely, and then she took Rapunzel's chin and tilted her face up and then she closed the distance.

Rapunzel thought, as their lips met, parted them instinctively, then closed them again. She didn't know if she was supposed to breathe – nose? Mouth? Her mouth was… and then Flynn shifted position and suddenly it was no longer awkward. It was instinct and heat and pressure in the right places and Rapunzel's senses were assaulted all at once. Flynn's scent – leather, metal. The warmth in front of her and the chill on her back. Taste – sweet? Like the tarts they'd gotten earlier – peripheral sounds, water against their boat and the music from the city floating over the water towards them and—

And then Flynn made a humming noise in the back of her throat, and Rapunzel thought, oh. For a moment there didn't seem to be enough space between them to breathe, and then Flynn's thumb was sliding over her collarbone, skating over the fabric of her dress, and everything suddenly came together and there was far, far too much space.

Rapunzel pressed in closer and her own fingers were exploring, seeing by touch, fingertips nosing up against the metal fastenings and the tough material of the vest and the threadbare shirt and up to Flynn's hair, and it was soft like feathers, soft like lips and soft like the muted rocking of the boat.

Flynn's hand was on her hip. Rapunzel tilted her head back, letting her lids fall until her eyes were nearly closed, and watched through her eyelashes as the lanterns lazily drifted further north, towards home.

.

Ten minutes later the world would come apart again. Flynn would dock the boat and run off with the satchel under the pretense of taking care of business. Two men would saunter out of the gloom while Rapunzel waited in the boat, and Rapunzel would scream for Flynn, only for her mother to come instead, saying I told you so and Mother knows best and it's safe at the tower, Flower, you can always trust your mother. And she'd cry and do as she was commanded, because why had she ever done otherwise, it had all been so stupid and her mother was so sensible.

Right now – right now, Rapunzel closed her eyes and held on to Flynn and thought, touch.

.

unwittingcatalyst - Thank you for the review! I think that Rapunzel pushed Eugene's protective buttons too much for him to keep fueling his smart mouth, and that's why he backed off after the cave scene. Girl!Flynn, on the other hand, as a self-sufficient independent woman, knows just what Rapunzel is capable of, and she'd prefer to draw Rapunzel out and engage her on a higher level rather than play to her innocence.