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Life, Marcy decided, was a lot different than a C&C campaign. Mainly because this was a whole fucking lot more terrifying.
Okay, there were other reasons too, but those didn’t really impact the pressing matter at hand. Said pressing matter being that if their heart was going to beat any louder, it might as well just explode out of their chest.
They were sitting next to Sasha, idly rocking back and forth on the rusty swingset. The three of them had decided to hang out at the park, making the most of their time together before Marcy’s inevitable departure. Anne, at some point, had left to spend time with her parents—something about a game night and also broccoli? Marcy hadn’t exactly followed the explanation, but the fact remained that neither Marcy nor Sasha were particularly keen on making Anne stay when she didn’t want to. At least, not anymore.
Marcy and Sasha, freed from any similar familiar obligations (not, Marcy thought, that it felt particularly freeing), were left at the empty park in each other’s company. And so, Marcy and Sasha remained, with no Anne.
It wasn’t like they never hung out without Anne—okay, maybe it was a little like they never hung out without Anne. But they were getting better, they were healing. The edges around both of them didn’t feel quite as sharp, didn’t feel quite as brittle. They weren’t constantly at war anymore, keeping Anne as their white flag all the while.
They were better. Which meant Marcy should not be this terrified. “Hey, Sash?”
“Yeah?” Sasha spun around in his swing to look at Marcy, grounding himself with one foot. Behind them, the sun began its descent below the horizon, encasing everything around them in a golden light. Marcy deemed it sufficiently poetic for this moment.
“Could I, um, tell you something?” Marcy began. Come on, Marcy, try sounding a little more confident! “I mean, I’m going to tell you something.”
“You’re literally always telling me things, Marce,” Sasha teases. “But yeah, sure, whatever it is, go ahead.”
“So, I’ve been thinking,” Marcy begins, “and, I think… I might be aromantic?”
Sasha smiles at that, warm and comforting and kind. “That’s great, Marcy,” he says, genuinely. “It’s really cool that you managed to figure that out.”
“I– yeah,” Marcy agrees. Reply of the century, Marce! Come on, they literally got the hard part over with and it was fine, why are they still so scared?
“Can I ask you a question?” Marcy asks, impulsively.
Sasha raises an eyebrow and just nods, beginning to slowly swing back and forth a little again. He really would look nice with short hair, Marcy thinks. Sasha had been talking about cutting it a little since getting back, but hadn’t been able to do anything about it yet.
“Can I kiss you?” Marcy blurts out. WHAT THE FUCK, MARCY?
Sasha blinks, looks surprised, stops looking surprised, then does a nervous little laugh. “Kind of back-tracking on your previous statement there, Marce.”
“No! Not like that. Not like anything, just… it was stupid. Sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. I was just curious, and I guess if I’m aromantic then I’m probably not going to find out, and—”
“Shut up, Marcy,” Sasha cuts them off. “You’re fine, don’t worry. And… you know what, sure?”
“Wait what? Are you… sure?” Marcy asks, eyes wide.
“You’re the one who asked in the first place, you can stop looking so shocked, Marmar,” Sasha scoffs affectionately, rolling his eyes. “And I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t, would I?”
Marcy shrugs, taking the offer to look away by focusing very intently on maneuvering in the swing set. They look up to find Sasha’s face only an inch away, oh wow, so the maneuvering much have worked out one way or another.
Marcy gives Sasha’s face another glance, trying to work out if they were really allowed to do this, and then just… press their lips to his.
He lets them satiate their curiosity, linger for a moment. The chain of the swing digging into their shoulder, soft lips pressed to soft lips. For a moment, Marcy thinks, this is the softest they’ve ever seen Sasha. It feels like some kind of contradiction, so much of this did.
And then it’s over. Nervous giggle, affectionate eye roll, tentative smile. Both sweeter and scarier than any inside joke should be, but similar. It was… nice. Gentle.
“So, was it all you hoped and dreamed of?” Sasha jokes.
Marcy shrugs vaguely, shooting Sasha a grin. “I dunno, it was nice. What about you? First kiss too, huh?”
Sasha frowns for a moment at that. “Yeah, guess so. I didn’t even realize.”
“Well, here’s hoping it was a nice one!”
Silence for a bit, which Marcy was definitely going to take as a yes, and then: “Why me?”
It takes a moment for Marcy to sift out the meaning of that from the conversation as a whole, but… “You mean, why did I kiss you?” A nod. “You’re one of my best friends, I couldn’t really ask anyone else. Besides, I figured you’d be cool about it.”
“What about Anne?” Sasha presses.
Marcy shrugs at that, casual. The thought had barely occurred to them before Sasha suggested it. “Anne isn’t here, is she?”
“Guess not,” Sasha agrees. “Well, to first kisses?”
“To first kisses!” Marcy kicks at the sand in celebration, a remarkably ill-thought out move on their part. But it’s nice. Even with sand spraying in their faces and sub-optimal swingsets… it’s nice.
———
Approximately 5 hours ago, Marcy had sent Sasha a text message reading “heyyyy so guess who’s in los angeles”, right before scrambling to chase after their luggage on the conveyor belt. Should they have given Sasha more than a few hours notice, after not having seen him for about a year? Maybe. But consider: it was wildly hilarious to see him freak out, and also, they were fast approaching the end of their teenage years, and reallyyyyy they should be allowed to do more impulsive and silly things while it lasted.
Sasha had, predictably, freaked out, and, thankfully, had the day off and could pick Marcy up from the airport. So here they were, Marcy sitting on Sasha’s couch, bowl of popcorn between the two of them.
“I still can’t believe we’re done with high school,” Sasha was saying, grabbing a handful of popcorn. “It’s been like, what, a whole year since? And I still can’t get over it! Like, just like that? Over!”
“Yeah, I mean, it was definitely a wild ride,” Marcy acknowledged. “But I’m also kinda glad that it’s over now, you know?”
“Definitely not as wild a ride as middle school,” Sasha snorts. Marcy has to agree—yeah, they’d be happy if nothing in their life came close to middle school.
“Talk about teen drama!” Marcy jokes. Sasha laughs; it’s nice that they can laugh about this now. Not tiptoeing around it as much, something closer to acceptance.
“No one warned me about the talking amphibians when we learned about puberty!” Sasha adds.
“The talking amphibians were definitely better than puberty, though.”
“Oh, no contest,” Sasha agrees. And it’s, well. They’re not talking about it, but they’re not not talking about it either. They already get it, all three of them do. You can’t always carry the people you love with you. Just the love.
And it’s lonely.
But here they are, talking, and laughing, and maybe it really will get better. Maybe it already has. “Okay, but like, can you imagine. Instead of getting puberty, everyone just gets transported to Amphibia for a couple months. Learning experience.”
“Marce, I think you’re overestimating how well that went for us,” Sasha points out lightheartedly. “Besides, wouldn’t that create like, pollution? God, I don’t know. You’re the science kid, not me.”
“Psychology is literally a science, Sash,” Marcy points out, but Sasha just waves them off. “Anyways, yeah, I can’t imagine that would be good for Amphibia, no.”
“Good thing they only got us three, then,” Sasha grins.
“But what about—” Marcy puts on their best middle-aged-white-male voice “—the economy?”
The two of them burst into giggles, far more than the situation granted, honestly. As soon as one of them gasped for breath, the other would burst into laughter again, and so it continued.
Eventually, they manage to gain their composure again, relaxing back into the couch.
“Do you ever miss it?” Sasha asks finally, giving Marcy no hint as to what he’s talking about.
“Amphibia?” Marcy asks. Do they ever not miss it, more like.
Sasha makes a vague noise of affirmation. “Amphibia, high school, whatever. I don’t even know.”
“Yeah, I guess I do. I don’t think there’s a lot that I don’t miss,” Marcy finally answers.
“Psh, I definitely can’t say the same.”
“You know what I missed a whole lot, though?” Marcy asks, teasing smile slowly spreading across their face.
“Hmm?” Sasha prompts. It would be really easy, Marcy thinks, for them to just… lean in. And press their lips to Sasha’s cheek. A kindness, some kind of reminder that their friendship was still there. Would always be. And so… they do.
Sasha freezes for a moment, just enough for Marcy to worry. But he doesn’t jerk away and so, for a moment, neither does Marcy.
“You,” Marcy mumbles, voice muffled against Sasha’s cheek. “I missed you a whole lot, Sash.”
Sasha’s breath catches for a moment, reply frozen in mid-air. The moment thaws, just enough to let the two of them breathe. “Missed you too, Marmar.”
———
“So, do you have any plans for your birthday?” Sasha calls from the kitchen. It’s been a month or two since Marcy moved in with Sasha, and, honestly, they couldn’t have wished for anything more. Except maybe one day where they managed to make eggs without burning them. Just one day.
“Not really!” Marcy responds, figuring they might as well get up to join Sasha. “I was thinking we could just hang out, you know? Doing things is overrated.”
Sasha nods, keeping his eyes on the eggs currently sizzling on the stove. “Fair enough, honestly. Well, I’m free to hang out, go out, whatever.”
“...Whatever?” Marcy asks, the seedling of an idea planting itself in their head.
“I am definitely going to fucking regret saying this, but yes,” Sasha groans.
Marcy grins.
Lots of complaints (on Sasha’s part), a frankly ludicrous amount of laughter (on Marcy’s part), and a few days later (on… the calendar’s part?), Marcy’s birthday arrives. Along with it, Marcy’s birthday present, which Sasha seems to be… enjoying. Yeah, they’ll go with that.
“Why are we doing this again?” Sasha complains, tugging at the hem of his shirt. The shirt with a cerulean scorpio symbol. You know, for funsies.
“Becauseeeeee it’s my birthday and you love me!” Marcy supplies helpfully. “Besides, it’ll be fun!”
“Yeah, you’re not the one that has to be Vriska,” Sasha grumbles.
“Hey, you’ll be a great Vriska, trust me,” Marcy promises. Sasha squints at them, taking a moment to decipher that statement.
“Not sure how I’m supposed to take that statement.” Marcy just shrugs. What’s the fun in anything if you can’t leave some things open to interpretation?
“I’m really beginning to wish you just stayed twenty three,” Sasha groans. “Then I wouldn’t have to go through this, at least.”
“Come on, it’s not going to be that bad. Besides, I think you’re just jealous that I’m twenty four and you’re still twenty three.” Sasha pouts at that, ha, how’s it feel being young?
“So, you ready, Serket?” Marcy asks.
“Ughhhhhhhh, fine. Terezi,” Sasha concedes. Marcy takes the chance to grab his arm, this is absolutely a win.
“See, you’re perfectly in character already!”
They pass a few hours like that, laughter passed between the two of them like childhood notes, pressed from one palm to another, hidden beneath wooden desks and stifled smiles. In the end, they end up sprawled out on the cough, Marcy laying on top of Sasha like a full body weighted blanket.
“You know,” Marcy starts, spreading their arms wide in midair. Sasha slips his hand into theirs, probably to prevent Marcy from smacking him in the face, which, you know what, fair. “The one thing I really wish we got… okay, there’s a lot of things, but like. We never got a Vrisrezi kiss! We should have gotten a Vrisrezi kiss! They’re literally everything to each other forever! They deserved it!”
Marcy takes a moment to breathe and glances back to see that Sasha looks… upset? Okay, maybe they went a little too far there, because Sasha is just staring at them, and this is why they try not to talk that much, too much, but it just happens, and—
“I mean they—well, if they wanted to. I think they also deserved to kiss. If Terezi wanted to, of course,” Sasha offers.
Oh. Oh. “I mean… yeah. Yeah, I think. That. For Vriska and Terezi. Yeah. Okay,” Marcy stumbles.
“Yeah,” Sasha agrees, nodding. Really, it’s easy for Marcy to just… lean down a little. Their noses brush a little, enough to make Marcy giggle a little, and then… they kiss him.
It’s entirely different from the first time they kissed him, all those years ago, young and nervous but so fucking curious, like there was some blinking neon sign flashing “look over here! look, look!” And even a decade later, the lights never dimmed, not really. Because now Marcy is kissing Sasha, again, (finally, part of their brain whispers), and it’s… it’s…
They pull away before they can finish that thought.
“So,” Sasha starts, catching his breath, “you tell me, Terezi, was that the kiss that Vrisrezi deserved?”
Marcy pretends to ponder the question, thinking hard for a moment. Definitely doesn’t notice the blush dusting Sasha’s cheeks. Definitely doesn’t think about how their cheeks must be similarly flushed. Definitely doesn’t realize their hand is still intertwined with Sasha’s.
“You know what,” Marcy says, “I think it was.”
———
“Hey, Sash,” Marcy mumbles into Sasha’s hair, hands wrapped around his torso, legs intertwined with his. “Sash, Sash, Sasha. Wake up.”
“Huh?” Sasha mumbles, turning around in Marcy’s grasp to face them. “Wha' time s’it?
“Wrong question,” Marcy grins, leaning forward just enough to press a kiss to Sasha’s forehead. They lean back just enough to watch, much to their amusement, confusion trace its way across Sasha’s face, groggily working out the problem, until—
“Oh!” Sasha remarks, and then, quieter, “oh. It’s… today. Today?”
“Yup,” Marcy says, burrowing deeper into the blankets to tuck their head under Sasha’s. “The correct answer was “what day is it”, by the way.”
“That’s not an answer, that’s a question,” Sasha counters, never one to stray from the pedantics of an argument.
“Jeopardy,” Marcy yawns, “begs to differ.”
“Fuck Jeopardy,” Sasha says. Then, gentler: “it’s really today, huh?”
“You mean, is today the one year anniversary of us being moirails—”
“—queerplatonic partners,” Sasha interjects. “We are queerplatonic partners.”
“Moirails, queer platonic partners, whatever,” Marcy waves him off. “Moirails is more fun, duh. But if you would let me finish my train of thought, I was going to say, today is, in fact, the one year anniversary of us being moirails. And queerplatonic partners.”
“Love you,” Sasha says, holding Marcy even closer. Safe in his arms. “Love you so much.”
“Love you too,” Marcy returns, and if their hands weren’t currently wrapped around Sasha, they absolutely would be flashing a diamonds sign at him right now. Partly because it was absolutely hilarious to watch Sasha pretend to be upset about it, partly just because it was fun. And because they loved him. That was the whole point of it all, wasn’t it?
“You know, we should really get up, at some point,” Marcy points out. “Like, logically, we have to go make breakfast, manage to burn breakfast, get ready, and then go do things. Logically.”
“Mm,” Sasha hums. “But consider: I’m pretty happy staying here. Maybe even forever.”
Marcy laughs, and they’re just so filled with love and who let them get this lucky, who let them be this happy? “I don’t know about forever, but I’m happy staying here too. At least for a little longer.”
And as Marcy presses a kiss to Sasha’s lips, it turns out Sasha has absolutely no complaint to that at all. And Marcy, well, they’re ridiculously happy, obviously—they always are, when it comes to Sasha. And who could begrudge them for that?