Chapter Text
Ancap was always awake early to check her cryptocurrency prices. She also stayed up late to check them. And she’d obsessively check on them during the day, though that didn’t really stick out, since most of her peers stared at their phones all the time anyway.
But, the whole procedure devoured a lot of brainpower; sleep was important, or so she had been told in elementary school, and her stupid useless body would have eventually gone on strike with her habits if she hadn’t found Ancom.
Ancom had an even worse habit than never sleeping: drugs. So many. Enough that they always carried around a stash of their own, sometimes in secret pockets under their oversized pullover, sometimes sticking out of their jeans pockets just to piss off the lawful. Ancom had offered Ancap an assortment of chemicals when they had seen her nearly fall asleep on a park bench checking her investments, as always. And hey, if they were stupid enough to hand them out for free, Ancap wasn’t about to say no.
That started a wonderful friendship in which they’d meet at that park bench whenever Ancap was out of the cocaine derivative Ancom had carried around the week prior, and Ancap would insist on at least paying a small amount of money, especially after Ancom had let it shine through that they were indeed struggling with acquiring cash; Ancap had been unable to swallow the derisive comment on their bad handling of their wares probably playing a role in that, earning a very mean glare and a lecture on helping those in need in return.
Alas, her small payments towards the increasingly frustrated drug dealer couldn’t deflect the inevitable: At their last meeting, Ancom had admitted they were going to be homeless very soon and therefore unable to hand Ancap her usual supply.
“Well, we can’t have that,” Ancap had said, amicably leering at the small person almost disappearing in their pullover and leaning over, “I need those wakey wakey pills. I’ll cut you a deal: I own a campus housing building; if you sign up for college for the next semester, I’ll collect your benefits for welfare, but you won’t have to pay rent for that amount of time.”
The glow in Ancom’s eyes had been to die for. They seemed to believe that their occasional prattling on kindness and humanity had made an impact on Ancap. It hadn’t. Ancap just wanted her dealer close by. And those charity stipends had always looked way too good to pass up on, but Ancap was from a wealthy family and pale as a sheet. Ancom on the other hand – dark skinned, assigned female at birth, and now homeless – was a star candidate for those checks.
They shook hands to seal the deal and Ancap made to fill out the application form for Ancom, already knowing it would take much longer than necessary if she let her little friend see the terribly limiting choice of only two genders, the genuinely weirdly bigoted way of looking at race, and the demurely classist language.
She already had a room for Ancom: She had rented two of the spare rooms in her apartment out to other students, but there was always that one stupid room no one wanted; it was more broom closet than room, but a very spacious broom closet, as she found. Most people who took a look at it complained especially about the lack of windows and ignored her hurried explanation that obviously not every room in every building could have windows, that just wouldn’t work out geometrically.
Finally, the day had come where Ancom would move in and basically become her personal drug courier. Splendid.
Her two other roommates had arrived earlier, nearly at the same time. A pretty blonde in a light blue lace dress that was a tad too long to be properly sexy, and a tall brunette unironically pulling off a black leather jacket and gloves with combat boots.
Ancap greeted both of them exuberantly and showed them around the flat, praising its great worth as she went from room to room. Their rooms were next to each other, the two biggest ones in the apartment; Ancap didn’t need a large room when she owned the whole building and could charge for square footage. At the end of the hallway separating their rooms from hers and the spacious broom closet was the heart of the place: a very clean open concept kitchen with plenty of sunlight falling in. Not even Ancap could oversell it.
Her two roomies were apparently not the fun type, since they both mostly looked on sternly, nodding and making listening noises instead of showing any emotion; they both seemed pretty keen on going to their rooms.
“A fourth flatmate is going to arrive...soon, hopefully,” Ancap ended her short tour, “and there will be housewarming-get to know each other-type party in the evening which I highly recommend!”
The two of them nodded and slinked off to their rooms, though Ancap imagined a spark in their eyes at the mention of a party.
Ancom rang her right when she was trying to get to know the tall girl, Commie, who had decided to cook something for the four of them. How kind of her.
Buzzing Ancom in, Ancap happily announced their arrival, making sure to clue Commie in on the fact that Ancom was very weird with their pronouns. Commie raised her brows but shrugged, dumping some cream into her stir fry.
With Ancom at their door, Ancap rushed to greet them as excitedly as she had the others, guiding them right over to their room right by the door. She switched on the lonely light bulb dangling from the ceiling, casting the room in the dim glow of a broom closet.
“It’s...empty,” Ancom commented.
“I assumed you had your own stuff to put in,” Ancap grinned. Now that she saw the sad reflection of the empty room in Ancom’s eyes, she started to maybe sort of see why people didn’t want to live in it. Well, better in here than homeless.
“I...don’t,” Ancom said, stepping in and dropping their holographic backpack on the floor along with the small duffel bag they carried.
“We’ll get you some sleeping arrangements in no time, don’t you worry,” Ancap patted them on the back, sharp grin painful now that it was artificial. “In much better news, Commie is cooking for us, and it smells right about done. You’re hungry, aren’t you?”
Ancom eagerly nodded, trailing after her towards the kitchen.
“Greetings,” Commie held out her hand as the other continued stirring the food; only now did Ancap notice her slight accent. Ancom stared at the hand for a second, then shook it, wincing just a little when the taller woman squeezed.
Ancom distrustfully peeked into the pan. “What’re you making?”
“Leftover stir fry. The first meal I learned to cook, and the only meal you really need to know how to make.” It sounded like a joke on paper, but the serious delivery made it only awkward. Ancom just nodded, not looking very happy. “It’s just about done now. You can go fetch blondie,” she commanded.
Ancap quickly jumped up and knocked on her last roommate’s door, getting a muffled and slightly annoyed what is it? in return.
“Commie made us dinner, if you want some.”
Shuffling from behind the door. Then, the door opened a sliver, and the pretty girl slithered out, very mindful not to let Ancap take more of a peek inside than absolutely necessary. A private person it seemed; Ancap could respect that.
Ancom and Commie already sat at the small dinner table, the former awkwardly pushing around their food. Charming as always, Ancap made a small bow, gesturing for her third tenant to enter.
She didn’t.
A weirdly long moment passed, with all three pairs of eyes on the blonde girl as she stood in the doorway, nose slightly curled.
The two at the table quickly regained their composure and made to ignore the little moment to instead talk among themselves, and she used the elevated noise level to her advantage.
“What is this?” she whispered, leaning closer.
“What?” Ancap wracked her brain to figure out the problem. She couldn’t, and when her new roommate saw that, she shook her head and stalked over to join the dinner round. Ancap shrugged and followed after her.
“I guess we can begin now,” Commie stated; Ancap spotted her seating neighbor lifting her hands for a second before sheepishly putting them down towards her cutlery again. Had she wanted to hold hands for a pre-meal prayer?
“Is this vegan?” Ancom blurted out. They must’ve been holding their tongue for a while. Ancap tried to kick them under the table, but missed.
“No. Vegetarian though, there was no meat in the fridge,” Commie said dryly, putting a dignified forkful into her mouth.
Ancom made a face and pushed the plate a bit away from them. Their mumbled “I’m not that hungry” was comically underlined by their rumbling stomach.
“I happen to think it’s delicious,” Ancap cut in. “And great for before a good night of drinking. On that note,” she got up and walked towards the fridge, picking up some beer bottles from the back, “who wants to start early?” It hurt her to hand out freebies, but she knew slightly drunk people were much more likely to spend even more money on alcohol later at the party.
The trio awkwardly agreed to a bottle each, although they all seemed uncomfortable, first and foremost Ancom. They were also the one to take a big sip out of the bottle as soon as they got it.
“So, what do you study?” Ancap sat back down and addressed the blonde girl.
“Political science,” she replied, and Ancap noticed now that she was impolitely staring at Ancom sitting opposite of her.
“And you?” Ancap moved on to Commie, who had managed to subtly almost empty her bottle.
“Constructional engineering.” Now you could really hear the accent.
“And you?” the blonde parroted Ancap’s words, though the friendly varnish sounded stilted as her lip curled with her attempt to smile at an increasingly uncomfortable Ancom.
Ancom looked up and fidgeted in their seat. Looking lost, their eyes pleaded with Ancap, but she found it too amusing to watch them squirm as she took a sip from her beer.
“Sociology?” they answered insecurely. Ancap had chosen the subject, determining it to be the place where Ancom would stand out the least; she needed them to be comfortable so they’d actually visit the classes and she could collect that sweet stipend money.
“Ah,” she took a big gulp from her bottle, beginning to catch up with Commie. “I hope you’re not prone to brainwashing then. Your ki- type is way too naive at times,” she was still smiling, and the smile was pretty, no doubt, but her eyes didn’t match the sentiment.
Ancom didn’t respond, though their face morphed into something very careful.
Blondie’s grin was unwaning. When she didn’t get an answer, she continued the conversation by herself. “I hope I don’t have to warn you about the cultural Marxists who have infested practically all the social sciences,” she leaned back in her seat.
Ancom jumped up and hit the table. "That’s a fascist dogwhistle!” they called out, stabbing their fingers at her.
“I’m not the person who made up the name,” she replied, unperturbed.
“What are you, a fascist?”
“They’re called cultural Marxists. They called themselves that. Look it up if you don’t believe me; you don’t seem to know the first thing about sociology. Say, are you only studying it because a white friend of yours recommended it? Since you’re clearly not from here, maybe they-”
Ancap was just about able to quickly dive in between the girl and the fork Ancom had attempted to throw at her. The retaliation was in turn prevented by Commie pushing a now standing blondie back at the wall.
“What is the point of this?” Commie asked angrily.
“I’m just trying to warn her that-”
“It’s ‘they’ you Nazi asshole!” Ancom shouted from behind Ancap, who had wisely copied Commie’s move.
“What? 'They'? You can’t sit here in a crop top and hot pants and ask me to call you 'they', that’s ridiculous!” That actually sounded genuine. Not that it helped. “You guys can not be on board with this.”
Ancap felt more than saw the betrayed eyes boring holes in the back of her head when she didn’t instantly reply.
“You’ll call them whatever they want to be called, for the sake of peace,” Commie ordered.
“I’ll call her, who looks like a girl and dresses like a girl a fucking girl all I want.”
This time Ancap did want to interfere, but Commie was once again faster. “Alright. But we also get to call you what we want.”
Everyone in the room wanted to protest. “Calling me a man doesn’t make me one, so-”
“I don’t know what your name is, but we’ll call you Nazi from now on.”
“Whatever, if you want to call me that-”
“Oh and it fits, too! You are a Nazi, so calling you anything else would be ridiculous!” Ancom chimed in.
“Sure, whatever,” Nazi tried to play the shitty nickname off, but Ancap could see the cracks.
“Yeah, I’m also okay with that solution. We call you Nazi and you can call Ancom ‘her’ until you turn gray.”
Ancom was already at the verge to another tantrum, but, miraculously, Ancap was able to hold them back with a conspiratorial look.
“Fine by me,” Nazi shrugged a last time before disappearing into her room, food only half eaten.
“I’m gonna go to my room, too,” Ancom weaved out of the kitchen, head bowed.
Awkward silence.
“Do you have something to put the leftovers in?” Commie asked after a moment.
“Yeah, sure,” Ancap fished out some Tupperware from a drawer and Commie began dumping what was left on the plates into it.
“I believe Nazi is actually fascist.” She said it so matter-of-factly, Ancap almost didn’t hear it.
“What?”
“We should alert the owners of the building they’re housing one.”
Ancap bristled. “Okay, hold up. First of all, I’m the owner,” raised brows from Commie, “and second of all, so what?”
“She’s fascist.”
“And?”
“You shouldn’t be giving her discount shelter.”
“No no no,” Ancap shook her head. “I don’t think you understand how this works. I don’t give a shit if she’s a fascist, a racist, or a Nazi. If she pays, she gets to stay here. That’s the only rule.”
“She’s going to cause trouble.”
“Then I'll throw her out then. As far as I’m concerned, her, or anyone’s political leanings here are none of my concern. You pay, you stay. This isn’t a gun shop, I’m not gonna do background checks.”
Commie mumbled something poisonous in a foreign language before stomping off. Her boots were very loud.
Ancap stuffed the Tupperware into the fridge and threw the door closed, sighing. She checked the clock on the stove: The party was already beginning. She’d be fashionably late.
Before she went back to her own room, she went ahead to Ancom’s door and knocked. She took the noise coming from inside as permission to enter.
Ancom sat on the floor, first signs of clutter already making themselves known as some of their clothes lay strewn around them, and was fumbling around with their bong. They looked awfully tense.
“You okay?” Ancap asked, slightly confused, as she sat down besides them Indian style.
At first, they shook their head, but it quickly morphed into nodding. They inhaled the steam from the bong, exhaling right into Ancap’s face. “You also want some?”
“I’m good.”
Ancom prepared another load.
“You might wanna save some of that.”
“For what?”
“For later. Or for selling it. Maybe even at the party.”
“Why would I do that?” Ancom sounded cagey as they exhaled, this time slightly away from Ancap’s face.
“I assume you don’t have any money. How are you planning on getting some if not by selling drugs?”
“What do I need money for?” they sounded offended, “I thought you’d let me stay here for free!”
“For the money in the stipend. But that doesn’t cover food. Or drugs. Or whatever else you may need. That’s on you.”
“Seriously?”
Ancap threw her hands up. “I never said I’m a goddamn charity. The stipend only barely covers room, heating and water.” That was a lie, but only by a little; sure, maybe it was true if it had been possible to rent this room. But Ancom didn’t need to know nobody would’ve taken the offer.
“Look,” she schooled her voice into a charming susurration once more, “how about we take some of that weed,” she picked up a little plastic bag by Ancom’s thighs, “and sell it at the party? There will be plenty of teenagers who won’t know how much it costs on the market, so you can sell it for overprice.”
“That’s fucking evil, dude. I don’t wanna scam children,” Ancom made a face, but didn’t snatch back the bag.
“How much did you buy it for?”
“Nothing. A friend gave it to me for free. Like a good person.”
“Alright, so be it. But, consider this: the others who might sell the kiddies weed will definitely also charge overprice – much more than you have to, since you got it for free. But you can still ask for a fee for getting it to them, right?”
They didn’t look much happier.
“Trust me on this one, most people wouldn’t even take the drugs if you don’t charge them for it. They’ll think you’re trying to poison them or something.”
Their face became a little softer.
“So you’re doing everyone a service if you sell it at an affordable price; yourself, me, and them, too, since you’re providing them with cheap, but high quality drugs.”
“If you say so.”
“What do you say, wanna doll ourselves up for the party?” Ancap got up and held out her hand to Ancom. They took it, already a little unstable on their feet. Alcohol on an empty stomach.
“You get dolled up?” Ancom asked as they walked into Ancap’s room.
“Of course! I love costumes.”
“Is it a costume party?”
“No, but all dressing up is a costume.” She opened her closet, holding not only her everyday clothes and a few pretty elegant dresses, but also quite the number of wigs; one of the reasons she wore her hair as short as she did was for them. She loved collecting them and putting them on. “What do you think about blonde and a golden dress?” she pulled out both items for Ancom to look at.
“For you or for me?”
“For me of course. I don’t think you can afford the fee for borrowing any of my clothes.”
“You’re gross.”
“I’m practical. Who’s to say you won’t ruin any of my precious few items? There’s gotta be something in it for me as well.”
Ancom just rolled their eyes.
“Also, I assume you have your own party clothes to get into.”
“These are fine, don’t you think?” they gestured at the ragged tie-dye crop top and high waisted hot pants.
“You look cute, but poor as shit.”
“I am poor as shit.”
“Well, if that’s the first thing you want anyone to notice about you, be my guest.”
Ancom crossed their arms and rolled their eyes. “I don’t care what people think about me. And I'm pretty sure you’re going to be overdressed.”
“I don’t mind that at all,” Ancap purred as she fixed the long, golden blonde wig to her head.