Your jog today is quicker than yesterday's, and you're back in less than an hour. You eye yourself off critically in the mirror, trying to determine if the jogging is helping you physically as well as mentally. You... think it might be? It's hard to tell, without having pictures of you without clothes from a month or so ago to compare against. There's no podge on your stomach, at least, and when you poke at your legs, you feel muscles there. There's still no real muscles in your stomach, though, and your chest is as flat as ever. A sigh escapes you as you climb into the shower. Damn it.
After you wash yourself, dry off and get dressed, you wander out to the kitchen. Dad's already sitting out there, holding a copy of the newspaper— wait, you don't have a subscription to the newspaper. You eye him suspiciously as you walk over to the coffee machine and turn it on.
He notices your gaze and looks down. "Deborah loaned it to me," he says, shaking off a handful of crumbs of toast that had fallen on it at some point. "Her son is an officer in the PRT, and he's been credited with the arrest of one of the members of the Teeth. Uh, Spree."
"Huh." You notice that the coffee machine has dinged, and begin to pour yourself a cup. "Does it say how he did that?"
He skims the article quickly. "There was a fight," he says slowly. "Spree and... Hemmorhagia fought Fenja and Menja. Hemmorhagia got away, but the PRT troopers were quick to respond, and managed to contain Spree." He seems to be quoting the newspaper.
"Cool." You take a long sip of the coffee, savouring the taste. It's good to be talking to Dad again, even if it's just about inane things. And— oh! Speaking of talking to Dad— "I'm going to my book club again at eleven," you inform him. "I should be back by six."
"Okay." Dad nods, accepting that. "There's money for the bus fare in the change jar. Make sure you don't go anywhere dangerous, okay?"
You give him a smile. "I won't," you promise him. At least, not today.
It's not perfect communication, but it's more than the two of you have had for the past couple of weeks. You're not— you're not going to talk about anything heavy, preferably ever if you have anything to say about it, but you don't feel like you need to hide from him now.
Things proceed as usual after that. You have your breakfast, take your time getting dressed, and eventually, it hits eleven o'clock. This time, Victoria even knows you're coming, not that it makes any difference; she greets you as soon as you walk in the door, the same as usual. You spend the next couple of hours playing with Victoria beneath the desk, until eventually the clock hits two, and the two of you head off to your alley. Just like usual. You're going to have to find a way to spice it up. Or not, because it is a public space. Hm.
Either way, the two of you make it to your alleyway, where Victoria sets you gently to your feet. You lean over to her and place a quick kiss on her lips, then back away when she tries to deepen it, giving her a cheeky grin. "Come on," you tell her. "Let's get inside."
She gives you a dirty look, but you just hum to yourself as the two of you head on in to the library. You find a seat up the back, in the most secluded area you can find— not that you're planning any hanky-panky in here— and gesture for her to sit across from you. Then you pull her copy of her Harry Potter books out of your bag.
"I had a headache, so I didn't get as much reading done as I wanted," you warn her. "I did finish the first book, though, and I'm most of the way through the second one. Don't spoil me."
She plucks the first book from your hands, then reaches into her own bag and pulls out two more books— the next two in the series. The third one is around the same size as the other two, but the fourth— wow, that is thick compared to the other books in the series so far.
"I brought these in for you," she says. "Thanks for not ruining my books like Crystal would. These are actually pretty expensive."
You nod. "Of course not. I wouldn't damage anything you gave me," you vow. She snorts at some joke you don't understand, but there's a pleased look on her face anyway, so you let it go. "There's a few things I don't understand about the books, though..."
The discussion gets fairly involved. There's actually quite a lot of things you don't understand about these books, and while a lot of them ends with Victoria just shrugging her shoulders and saying "It's a plot point", there's a fair few where Victoria is just completely unable to answer your questions. It doesn't leave you feeling very satisfied, but the few instances where she is able to give you a concrete answer— "No, Dumbledore is not secretly Voldemort in disguise"— do alleviate that somewhat.
You're deep in a discussion over the author's writing style— Victoria is of the opinion that the author doesn't describe the characters enough for her to visualize them, while you think the author did a fine job considering the viewpoint character is an eleven-year-old boy— when Victoria's phone rings. She blinks down at it, then looks up at you.
"Uh, I have to take this," she says quickly. "It shouldn't take long, hold that thought." She stands up quickly, sending her chair skittering backwards, then moves away from you, holding her phone up so she can swipe her finger across the screen— she has a modern smartphone, you're jealous. "Yes, hi, Amy," you hear her saying.
You wait a couple of minutes, but when she's still deep in whatever discussion she's having, you wave for her attention and gesture over to the stacks. Victoria gives you a thumbs up, which you take as approval for you to wander over to them for a moment.
The two of you have already gone through the fantasy section, so you don't bother trying to find anything worth reading in there. You need something to distract you in class when the teacher's covering material you've already read, so— maybe not anything fictional, then. You twitch away from the crime section, over to the non-fiction section, and spend a few minutes browsing there.
There aren't a lot of topics you find interesting, but one book does catch your attention. "How to run a successful small business", by Marcus Rhodes. You think about it for a moment. If you're going to be managing a team of heroes— well, is it really that different from running a business? There are probably legal and statutory differences, but it will all involve money and management. Well, it can't hurt. You grab that book, and then after a moment's consideration, a couple of others like it, and head off to the loans desk to borrow them.
When you return to the table, Victoria still hasn't got off the phone. She rolls her eyes at you as you return, lifting her hand and making a gesture meant to imply that whoever is on the phone is talking too much. You wait patiently for a few minutes, before eventually she gets off it and moves back over.
"Ugh, sorry," she says, moving her chair back over to the table and sitting back down in it. "My cousin's been on my ass ever since I accidentally broke her car. She keeps calling me up and yelling at me, like it's my fault her insurance company took this long to compensate her."
You shrug. "It's fine," you say. "Why is she badgering you over that, though?"
"Crystal just likes yelling at me, I think," she complains. "She does it all the time." Her voice changes, goes higher-pitched, as though she's mimicking someone else's voice. "Victoria, you didn't do the dishes. Victoria, you didn't clean your room like Mom asked you to. Victoria, you drank from the milk carton again! Gah, like anyone actually bothers to go get a glass just to get a drink of milk when it's right there." She slumps down in her chair, staring glumly at the table.
You take her hand, rubbing small circles over the back of it. "Aw, poor Victoria," you coo. "That's gross, though, don't drink straight from the carton."
"Aw man, you too?" She throws her head back with a disgusted sigh. "Yeah, 'coz you of all should be complaining about me drinking from a bottle."
You flush. "That's a fair point," you squeak out. It doesn't really make much sense for you to tell her not to drink straight from the bottle when you spend what feels like half the time you have with her with your tongue in her mouth. What's the use of complaining about germs at that point? "Unless you kiss your mother like you do me, though, you shouldn't do that at home."
She waggles her eyebrows at you. "How do you know I don't?" she asks salaciously.
You stall for a moment, a small "eep" the only sound you're able to make. Your thoughts take an instant dive into the gutter. You can't quite remember what Victoria's mother looks like, but— you don't need to know what she looks like to know that the image of Victoria french kissing her own mother is both incredibly wrong and incredibly hot.
You're abruptly dragged out of your fantasies when Victoria snaps her fingers in front of your face. She gives you an amused look as you blink at her, startled, your blush only growing worse. "Didn't mean for you to take that seriously," she says, a teasing tone to her voice that fades into something more serious. "I don't actually kiss Mom like that, only you. And D— my boyfriend. I'd tell you if there was anyone else."
"Uh." Squeezing your eyes closed, you try to banish the haze of lust now hanging heavy over your thoughts. You're not very successful. "Uh, sorry, I'm still hung up on the image of you kissing your Mom," you admit.
She gives you an odd grin. "Your list of turn-ons just keeps growing, huh."
"Yeah, sorry." You shake your head, but don't have very much more success than you did last time. "That one's a big one. And I don't hear you denying it yourself."
Chuckling, Victoria leans forward. "You can have whatever kinks you like, Taylor," she says warmly. "I'm not going to act disgusted because you like the thought of me kissing Mom. Mom's hot, it's true. I've thought about it myself a few times, although I'd never actually do it."
And you stall again. Okay, that's just not fair. She shouldn't be allowed to say these things.
"Come on." She pats your cheeks, giving you a gentle grin. You try to shake it off again, and have some moderate success this time as you stare at her face, although you're pretty sure your face is the reddest it's ever been right now. "There we go. Come on. We should go and talk about this." She takes your hand, and you follow her up in a daze, barely conscious of Victoria tucking your bag over her shoulder and leading you out of the library.
She leads you over to your alleyway, checking casually to make sure nobody else is in there. Then, she bodily picks you up, ignoring your annoyed grunt, and places on the top of a dumpster marked Recycling. Both of you ignore the sound of several pieces of paper flying away. You're taller than her, from up here, but only for a moment— she cheats and flies up a short distance, bringing herself to a height she can meet your eyes at.
Before you can start talking, she gives you a soft kiss. You return it, and don't try to deepen it at all, just luxuriating in the softness of Victoria's lips. You part from her soon, not letting it last too long, and look into her lidded eyes. "Okay," you say quietly, regaining your bearings somewhat. "What did you want to talk about?"
She doesn't say anything, instead running her hands through your hair. It feels nice, but a little bit weird, too. You tug her hands away from your hair, puffing your cheeks out a little and letting out an aggrieved noise. She just snickers and pats you on the head again, just once.
"Relax," she finally says, releasing your hair. You hurriedly reach up and run your fingers through your hair where you're pretty sure she just tangled it all together. "I just didn't want to have that kind of talk in the middle of a library."
"Oh." You pout at her as you tug at your hair, trying to smooth it all out. "What kind of talk?"
She pinches your hip, causing you to jerk back with a yelp, which only grows worse when you bash the back of your heel against the metal dumpster. She smirks at you. "You know what I'm talking about," she chides you.
"Fine, fine." You turn your ankle as much as you can so that the sore part of it isn't touching the dumpster. Seriously, that actually hurt. You rotate it a couple of times, trying to find the most comfortable position for it you can.
"Come on." Victoria rubs the spot on your hip that she'd just pinched, frowning lightly at you. "Stop it, Taylor. This isn't a bad talk, but I need you to be serious for a little bit."
"I know, I know." You find a comfortable spot and let your ankle rest there, angled towards your other foot. "Sorry." Giving her a contrite look, you reach over and take her hand, lifting it into your lap. You don't do anything with it, just hold it. "Start talking, I'm listening."
She nods, but gives you a firm glare before she starts saying anything. "It's not a long talk or anything," she begins. "I just wanted to take you out here so I could assure you that I'm not going to laugh at you or make you feel bad for your kinks without anyone listening in. It doesn't bother me if you fantasize about Mom and I."
You nod. "You could have just told me in there, you know," you point out, but she's shaking her head even before you finish your sentence.
"I'm a public figure," she replies. "I'm no movie star, but a lot of people in Brockton Bay know my name and face. If I talk about this kind of stuff in public, there's a good chance somebody might hear it and spread it around."
"... But you already did talk about it in public, just before," you remind her.
She huffs a little laugh. "Yeah, well," she says wryly, "you have a way of making me forget a lot of things I really should remember." She pokes you in the stomach with her free hand as she says that. You squirm, pouting at her. "If you hear me talking about that kind of thing in public again, you should really remind me. It won't go well for either of us if this gets out."
You frown glumly. "Yeah, okay," you assure her. "I don't want you to get in any trouble because of me."
She pokes you in the stomach again. "You're nothing but trouble," she teases you. You give her a mock-offended look, and she gives you a wide, proud grin at her own faux-cleverness. "But I don't mind your kind of trouble, as long as it doesn't get me in trouble with Mom and Dad."
You smile winsomely at her. "Do I look like the kind of girl who would get you in trouble with your parents?"
"Yes." She doesn't even hesitate with the response. You rock back, actually a little shocked, but playing it up for humour value. "But that's okay. I have a bit of a thing for nerdy bad girls with awesome hair." Before you can react to that, her hand is tousling up your hair again. Knowing it's useless, you don't fight it, but you do scrunch your nose up at her to convey your displeasure.
