After we got there, Tattletale surprised the hell out of me— she pulled off her mask. After a bit of shock and questioning, she revealed her name as Lisa and a bit of her background. Forcibly recruited by Coil, the issues of her teammates, and the plan Coil had for playing the gangs off each other and taking over the city after they decimated one another.
I wanted to know why she thought she could trust me with this. She laughed and pointed out her super-intuition once again— I wouldn't turn over a bunch of kids to the PRT when the group consisted of a sociopath desperately trying to find things to give him emotion, a girl who was so badly fucked over by her life and her trigger that she could barely live in society, a guy just trying to save his sister from their mother, and a girl who had a metaphorical— and sometimes literal— gun held to her head.
Especially when I held the key to getting them out of crime.
Apparently, my silk clothes would be worth a lot. Not just as body armor, but as actual clothing— with a skilled designer, people would pay out the nose for genuine spider silk dresses and suits. And with me as the only source... Lisa guaranteed that with her power backing me up, I'd be wealthy enough to outright buy the entirety of Brockton Bay within a couple of years, and more than enough to afford the cost of a 'private security team' within a few months. That the 'team' just so happened to consist of teenage Parahumans remarkably like the retired Undersiders was a complete coincidence, of course.
It was when she casually pointed out how I hadn't even thought of using the secluded location to capture her that I gave in. Two conversations about cape business and morals and she had me pegged. Lisa was scary.
I also really wanted that money. Enough to buy Brockton Bay was more than enough to infuse the economy and clear the docks.
My dad would live to see his dream come true.
So I made a deal. I helped her take down Coil, she'd help me get rich and save the Undersiders. She had been determined to put the bastard into jail herself, but with the recent upheaval Coil had been forced to show his hand much faster than he'd like. And Tattletale had gleaned something from that.
Coil was working from inside the PRT. He had to be fairly high up in the system to have access to all the information he was using— and Tattletale narrowed down the list of possible candidates each day. When the time came, I'd assault his underground base with the help of the Undersiders (hired by their secret Boss— or so Lisa would say) and hold him while Lisa released his identity to the public.
I was wary of going up against an unknown parahuman, but whatever his powers were, they weren't suited for direct battle. He just seemed to always make good choices— if there were multiple options for something, more often than not he'd go with one that somehow ended well. I was her ace in the hole— Coil had no knowledge of me, and would be completely blindsided when I worked with the Undersiders to capture him.
We'd hand him over to the Guild, avoiding any loyal employees Coil mig have in the PRT, and let them hang on to him.
And then the 'mysterious Boss' would retire, letting me grab the Undersiders for my own.
Overall. It was a solid plan. One that had a very good possibility of working, and would give me the chance to solve the cities problems, both through turning some Villains into Heroes (because I was not going to just sit on my but and make silk. I was going to be a Hero, darn it, even if I had to drag my 'security team' around with me!) and by drawing attention and more PRT focus to the revival I would offer the town via a cash influx.
I could imagine that future. I wanted it. So I gave in.
And now I'm allied to a Villain group, even if the group itself doesn't know yet.
Planning and talking with Lisa, who knew me as Taylor once I decided to unmask in the Boat Graveyard (which led to another Situation), took up attention. Attention that Sophia noticed the lack of. She was starting to act up again, and I had an idea to settle her down.
It was going to be fun.
* * *
It was Friday, and Sophia's reaction when I told her that she was to come to my house at five after school was fairly amusing. She simply stood there, blinking, while I nonchalantly continued down the hallway. I had timed it carefully, despite my facade. I reached the correct classroom just as the bell rang, leaving Sophia no time to speak to me. I avoided her during the breaks between each class, slipping by her in the halls. When the bell rang for lunch, for the first time in months, I actually hid from Sophia. I didn't pass her a note, or guide her to my carefully chosen destination.
On my way towards my fifth hour, I passed Sophia in the hallway. She looked... Lost. Like she had suddenly been dumped into a desert, with no map and no water.
I ducked down and walked by.
It probably looked horrible from an outside perspective, but I wasn't doing it to be cruel. I had an entirely different reason— one I was almost ashamed of.
I was nervous.
Just thinking about this weekend made my gut twist. While my relationship with Sophia wasn't exactly smooth sailing, what I was about to do was the equivalent of throwing away the guide and charting new waters. Waters that were potentially full of sea monsters.
While we hadn't had the most conventional start, we had settled into a nice rhythm, a stable routine. We fucked, we talked, we made jokes, we fucked, we complained about homework, we fucked, and we then we fucked some more. Before school, after school, and of course, the now-traditional lunch session. But all of that happened here, at the school, or in the occasional park, or even out by the beach on one memorable occasion. Not once did Sophia offer to have me visit her at her home. After the meeting that had started it all, Sophia didn't come to my house. It seemed like an unspoken agreement. We didn't mention, ask about or bring up the other's home life. Our time at school was just that— our time.
My invitation threw all of that out the window, and I was planning something even worse. I was practically sick with anticipation.
The rest of the day passed by in a blur as I lost myself to my fears. What if she got upset? What if she decided not to come by at all? Would she pretend it had never happened, or would she confront me about it? Worst of all, what if she—
The final bell rang, and I was out of my desk like a shot from a cannon. I rushed towards the front doors, out into the fresh air, and made it home in record time. I checked behind me every block, desperately hoping not to see Sophia chasing after me— bugs covered the blocks beyond those. There was no-one around.
I wasn't sure if I was relieved or terrified.
When I made it home, I frantically went over my preparations time and time again. Dad hadn't changed his plans, he was spending the night at a friends house in celebration of something-or-other. All of the spiders had been moved out— they were temporarily stored in the abandoned house three blocks down. The silk clothing had been packed into boxes and stored with the spiders, and finally The Chair-it deserved emphasis, after all the orgasms and soaking it had endured-was stored with them. My notebooks about superhero-ing had been carefully put away, I had given the house a cursory wipe-down, I had even changed my sheets! As the time ticked down towards five, I checked and rechecked everything. When I finished, sure that Sophia would knock on the door any minute, I rushed towards the entrance— only to catch a glimpse of the clock.
It was only four twenty.
This night would be the end of me.
* * *
At five o'clock exactly, Sophia knocked on the door. I very nearly sprinted to answer. It took a lot of self-control to stop, take a deep breath, and walk there. Opening the door, I took in the sight of Sophia— she had changed clothes. Her school outfit had simply been a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, with only a sweat-shirt tied around her waist as an acknowledgment of the cold. Now, she had a pair of slightly scuffed black slacks on, along with a long-sleeved shirt. She fidgeted as I drank in the sight of her, the conflicting feelings within me only increasing. Once I had them under something that might approach control on a good day, I stepped to the side.
"Please, come in. Feel free to make yourself at home." Sophia stepped inside, and her eyes gave the room a cursory once-over before returning to me. I closed the door, then silently headed towards the kitchen/dining room, as it was the only room in the house that had hard chairs. I didn't think I could sit on the sofa without collapsing into the cushions. Sophia followed closely behind me, not pausing in her steps so much as once.
I pulled out a chair for her, and gestured for her to sit. She took it silently, and her head followed me as I circled the table to sit across from her.
"Can I get you something to drink? Water, juice...?" She shook her head. I was starting to feel even more uncomfortable as her eyes refused to focus anywhere but my face. I paused for a moment, searching for the right words. Now that I was actually here, in the moment, my carefully rehearsed speech fled from my mind, and I was drawing a blank. One moment became two, two became three.
"Get it over with."
"What?"
I could barely hear her— right before she spoke, she had dropped her gaze to the table. The words came out mumbled. She paused for a moment, took a deep breath, then jumped up and leaned across the table to shove her suddenly angry visage into my face!
"I said, spit it out! Tell me we're done! Tell me how you found someone else, and how she's so much better than me, and how it's my fault for moping around because my dad-!" Suddenly, the rage seemed to melt from her face, and she collapsed back into the chair. Her hands come up to her face, and she finished her sentence in a quiet, tired voice.
"....Just end it. Just, just, stop it and let me leave."
I sit there in shocked silence for several long, long seconds before her meaning fully penetrates. Then I'm standing up so quickly my chair falls behind me with a bang, and Sophia jerks her head up to stare at me. I take long steps, and in moments I'm around the table. I kneel in one quick, smooth motion. Sophia is staring wide-eyed at me, almost a foot below her in my lowered position. I gently reach forward, capturing her wrists in an automatic, smooth grip, trained from weeks of practice, and with the other hand I reach out to rest a palm on her cheek.
"I am not leaving you, Sophia." My voice is firm, all of my earlier hesitation gone, only left with a cold kind of horror that she would expect this from me— and a great, burning desire to show her how wrong she was.
"I told you before. I'm not letting you go, even if I have to tie you down to keep you."
"Sophia Hess. Kitten. Will you do me the honor of becoming my girlfriend?"
The question hangs in the air, and Sophia just— sits there. Silent. Still.
And then she begins to cry.
I brace myself just in time, as she throws herself forward, smashing her face into my chest. We end up sprawled on my back across the floor, and Sophia clutches the front of my shirt as she sobs. I wrap my arms around her shoulders, and just hug her, making small, soothing noises.
Time passes. Slowly, her crying comes to an end. She stays there, with her face pressed against my meager breasts, for what feels like an eternity.
"...Yes."
I could barely hear her whisper.
"What was that, Kitten?"
"I said yes! I'll be your stupid girlfriend, Hebert!"
Her belligerence makes me chuckle. Trying to save face after crying yourself out? How very like you, Kitten.
I reach downwards, and slowly pull her face upwards by her chin. Her eyes are red, and there are obvious tear tracks in the small amount of makeup she wears. Her nose has been running, and her entire face is slightly swollen and red. I pull her up towards me with my remaining arm around her back, and bring my face down to meet hers.
She tastes like salt.
I don't mind.
* * *
We sit there a moment longer, enjoying the kiss. Eventually it has to end, and I pull back, eliciting a small whimper from Kitten. I try to stand us up— she protests by refusing to release her hold and digging her face back into my chest. I chuckle.
"Come on, Kitten. I did have plans for the rest of the evening. Don't you want to know what they are?" Sophia gives in reluctantly, slowly loosening her grip. I patiently wait, and when she's done, I stand up, offering her a hand to her feet. She takes it, and I pull her up with a bit of a grunt. Kitten has a lot more muscle than me, but she chooses to give me a mock-dirty look. She can't hold it long, and it breaks into a tiny smile.
Kitten is my girlfriend now.
It really hits me at that moment. Sophia agreed! She really said yes!
It takes far too much self-control to keep from kissing her. So I kiss her anyway.
When I pull back, I have the goofiest grin on my face. Kitten's little smile has widened as well. It takes a moment of stupidly smirking at her before I remember my plans.
The rest of the evening passes by in a flash. I had picked out a nice restaurant, made reservations, taken the time to hunt down a nice set of clothes that aren't the obvious spider silk.
Instead, we go out to Fugly Bobs and eat sandwichs. We joke around, and we laugh, and we have too much fun— we end up disturbing some of the other patrons, especially when we kiss just a little too much too often. One particular redhead has trouble shutting his gaping mouth— Sophia seemed to attract his attention more than I did. Maybe he had a thing for shorter, black girls?
Then we're headed towards my home. As soon as the door is shut, I turn to receive a flying Kitten to the lips.
Kissing is nice.
After a moment for breath, I kiss her again— harder this time. Some of my intent must've leaked through, because she moans as she kisses me back.
I lead her up the stairs, pulling her behind me until we reach my room. Then I toss her onto the bed.
In an instant, I'm on top of her, feeling her around the outside of her clothes. My hands slide over her breasts, lead down to her thighs, stroke gently and come back up to slide under her shirt. It's gone before I know it, and I'm pushing aside her bra, going straight to her nipples, plucking them gently before I bend forward to take one into my mouth and suck. Kitten's hands come up to grip at my hair— I restrain them with my free hand, take the roll of silk I had on my bedside table for just this, and briskly tie them together.
Pulling back, I stare down at the panting girl beneath me. Her arms encircle her breasts, pushing them together and putting them further on display. Her wrists are tied neatly above the zipper of her pants.
