Less than fifteen minutes after she first texted you, there’s a loud knock on the front door. You quickly head over and open it, revealing Victoria standing there with red cheeks, looking down at her hands.
“Sorry about that,” she says with an awkward chuckle. You tilt your head a little, confused. “I didn’t mean to knock that loudly.”
You wave her off. “It’s fine,” you say dismissively. “Come in, come in.”
She walks in, unconsciously rubbing her arms. She’s wearing some civilian clothes again, and like last Wednesday, isn’t wearing any makeup. You allow your eyes to wander appreciatively over her face for a moment, until she notices what you’re doing and sticks her tongue out at you. The temptation to lean forwards and bite it is strong enough to make you shake your head.
You take her hand, leading her towards the living room. Dad waves at the two of you as you pass, but doesn’t turn away from the stove.
“I think we’re having curry tonight,” you confide in her. “Dad didn’t tell me, but I think so.”
She sniffs the air for a moment. “It smells good,” she decides. “Did you cook it, or did your Dad?”
“Dad cooked it,” you reply matter-of-factly. “He got home early, and I’m not very good with curry anyway. Everyone always tells me it’s too spicy.” You pout at her. “It’s not my fault they can’t handle spice.”
The two of you make your way around the couch and settle into it, still holding hands. You’re tempted to pull her over into a hug, but refrain. It would be embarrassing if Dad caught you like that.
Victoria hums as you pick up the remote. “You should make some curry anyway,” she muses. “I’ll take some home and give it to everyone for dinner. See how Crystal likes it,” she adds with a devious shimmer in her eyes.
You raise your eyebrows at her. “You don’t like your cousin very much, huh?” you observe.
“I’m sure it’s not that spicy,” she replies, waving her hand dismissively. “And yeah, she does annoy me a little bit sometimes. She’s so uptight, you know? Always on me about this and that ever since she got into college.”
You stop the dirty thoughts in their tracks before you can really visualize Victoria’s cousin being on her— damn it. Victoria seems to notice the rising redness in your cheeks and smirks at you. Before she can tease you, you hurriedly say, “I think there are better pranks you could play on her.”
She lets the blush pass without comment, thankfully, although she does continue to smirk at you as she replies. “Probably. My sister does like curry, though, so it wouldn’t be a bad idea. Too bad.”
“Mm,” you reply. So Panacea likes curry. That’s, well, that’s kind of boring, but it’s useful knowledge anyway. You file it away for future reference, just in case you ever get the chance to meet her. You kind of doubt you will any time soon, though—from what you understand, Panacea has largely drawn out of the public eye outside of her work at hospitals around Brockton Bay. “Well, it’s not very nice to play pranks on your cousin anyway.”
“Eh, it’s fine.” Victoria waves your comment aside. “If she can dish it out, she can take it. It’s only curry, anyway.”
You frown, but don’t press the point. That… sounds kind of cruel, but you don’t want to judge Victoria without knowing more about her relationship with her cousin. That kind of thing might be totally normal for them. It’s not like you’ve ever had a cousin of your own to have a relationship with, so who knows? Still, though, even if it’s normal for the two of them—well, you don’t like it.
Feeling a bit uncomfortable, you shift around on the couch. “Okay,” you mumble. “So, um. How has school been for you?”
Victoria gives you a concerned look—evidently, your shift in topic was not as subtle as you would have preferred—but allows it to pass. “It hasn’t been too bad,” she says eventually. “Political Science has been kicking my butt, though…”
Your fledgling worries don’t disappear, exactly, as the two of you keep talking about school, but they fade to the back of your mind. Victoria gives you a passionate diatribe on the evils of her Economics teacher, who she claims has a vendetta against her specifically (you doubt it), before switching topics to talk about Arcadia’s apparently robust volleyball team. You chime in occasionally with your own experiences at school, telling her about the droning voice of your Earth Sciences teacher and the abysmal choices of food available in the cafeteria. Your complaints feel a bit shallow in comparison to hers, though. Sometimes, you forget that Victoria is two years older than you and already in her last year of high school.
Admittedly, as you admit to Victoria; “It’s hard to complain about the cafeteria food these days, since Madison always makes lunch for me.” You give Victoria a bright grin. “She’s a good girl like that.”
Victoria just laughs softly. “She sounds like it. I wish I had someone who made me lunches so I didn’t have to eat Arcadia’s cafeteria food.”
“Doesn’t your mom make you lunches?” you ask, confused.
She shakes her head. “Mom’s too busy,” she replies. “She used to, when she was younger, but then we started this whole hospital drive, and she hasn’t had much time since. Dad used to help out, but that doesn’t happen too much these days, and Auntie Sarah was never very good at handling money and bureaucracy, so it’s mostly up to Mom to run that side of New Wave. She makes sure to pick us up from school and whatever, but she doesn’t have much time to be cooking and cleaning and all that stuff.”
“Ah,” you say dully. “Well, that sucks. At least she gives you money to buy lunch.”
Nodding agreeably, Victoria leans back against the arm of the couch to look at the ceiling. “Don’t get me wrong,” she says drowsily, “I don’t blame her for that stuff. She’s a busy woman, and she’s helping a lot of people.” Despite her words, however, there’s a wistful tone in her voice that makes you feel a bit sad.
“Yeah,” you reply equally wistfully. “I know how that one goes.” Out of the corner of your eyes, you see Victoria glance towards you, but you don’t turn to look at her. A silence builds between the two of you. Somehow, it’s both awkward and not awkward at the same time.
You’re not sure if you’re thankful or not when Dad finally calls out, “Dinner, girls!”
When the two of you walk into the kitchen, you find three bowls spread around the table. He’s set Victoria’s bowl across from yours—which is a little odd, given that when you used to have Emma over you’d always sit beside her so you could talk easier, but you’re not going to complain about getting to look at Victoria a little more.
Victoria waits for the two of you to begin eating, then takes a mouthful of the curry. She chews it for a moment, then swallows it, raising her eyebrows. “This is nice,” she compliments Dad. “What’s in it?”
Dad looks down at it, frowning. “Sweet potato, chickpea, spinach and chicken,” he says. Then he jerks his head up. “Oh— sorry, I should have asked if you had any allergies!”
“It’s fine.” She just chuckles, brushing his concerns aside. “The only food I’m allergic to is kale, and nobody cooks with kale, so it’s alright. I would have spoken to you otherwise, don’t worry about it.”
He shakes his head, still looking worried, but concedes the point. “Alright,” he says begrudgingly. “Well, Victoria, I know we’ve met before, but I don’t know very much about you. Tell me a little about yourself.”
The two of them chat amicably through dinner, mostly talking about Dad’s job and Victoria’s plans for where she wants to work after school (“Law enforcement,” she says with a straight face). Several times, there’s a point where you could interject in the conversation, but something stops you. A warm glow settles in your stomach as you watch the two of them talk.
You kind of like having Dad and Victoria together at the dinner table, you think. It’s nice. And it’s good to hear conversation flowing through the house again.
Still, eventually all conversations have to come to an end. This one comes to an end when Dad finally finishes his food, having grown distracted several times inquiring after classes at Arcadia. You stand, offering to take the dishes to the sink and wash up, but Dad just waves you off.
“No, it’s fine,” he replies. “It’s been a while since I did the washing up anyway. Give an old man a chance to keep his skills sharp, won’t you?” He gives you an exaggerated wink as he says it.
“But-“
“It’s fine,” he stresses. “I don’t know when your friend has to leave, but go spend some time with her before she does, okay? I can handle cleaning up tonight.”
You clench your hands tight into fists, but as much as you want to argue—cleaning up is your job; if he wanted to start then he should have started months ago—you want to spend time with Victoria more. The only answer you can give him as you grab Victoria’s hand and pull her away is a frustrated growl.
Luckily, she either doesn’t hear the sound, or chooses to ignore it in favour of gripping your hand tighter. “I like your father,” she says brightly. “He seems fun.”
You’re tempted to make a mean remark in turn, but even as you try to formulate the words, your anger is draining out of you. It’s a lot of effort to stay mad at people lately. “He’s alright,” you say begrudgingly.
She snickers. “You’re very grumpy today,” she notes entirely too happily. “Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed today?”
You actually did—normally you wake up on the right side, while you woke up on the left today—but you know that’s not what she means. “No,” you reply, giving the wall near your room something halfway between a pout and a scowl. You wait until you can pull her into your room and shut your door behind her before you say anything more, though. You definitely don’t want Dad hearing this. “I guess I’m just a little frustrated,” you admit.
She calmly moves over and sits on your bed. “What are you frustrated about?” she asks. “Having some difficulties with your schoolwork or something?”
You stagger over beside her and fall face-first onto your bed, letting out an exaggerated groan. “I wish,” you grumble. “No. Madison and I-“ You pause, carefully not looking over at her. After a moment, though, you decide to just go with it. “Madison and I were fooling around in the library, and we got interrupted before I could finish.”
“Aw, poor Taylor,” she coos. She pats your arm faux-sympathetically, but when you turn to look at her, she’s just smirking at you. You pout at her in turn. It’s not funny! It’s a serious problem! “Can’t you just get yourself off?”
You let out an exaggerated groan, crawling up your bed a little so you can slam your head into your pillow. “It’s not the same that way,” you whine. “It feels better when I can feel someone else there.” Almost immediately, you tense up, realizing what you just said, but you force yourself to relax before Victoria can see it. She seems a little confused by the statement, but after a moment, just raises her eyebrows at you again. Thankfully, she seems to have taken it innocently, not as a reference to your powers.
“That’s true,” she allows. She sits up, moving closer to you so she can watch your face as she talks. “Can’t you and your girlfriend just do it again tomorrow?”
With a half-hearted shrug, you shake your head. “She doesn’t feel comfortable doing it where other people might see,” you say sadly. “Maybe if I could take her to a park or something, but she’s usually busy after tutoring.”
Victoria bites her lip for a moment, seeming indecisive. You turn over, stretching out so that you’re looking straight up at the ceiling rather than twisting your neck trying to look at her. It takes her a few moments for her to make up her mind. Once she has, she inches her way closer to you, then leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your lips.
You lean into it for a moment, running your tongue against her lower lip, then allow yourself to fall back down on your pillow. She follows you down, shuffling her legs backwards so she can lie along beside you, and presses another kiss to your jaw, then another up higher before she moves her mouth up to your ear.
“You’re a very bad influence, you know,” she whispers huskily into your ear. Her breath tickles, causing you to shiver slightly. One hand, the hand she’s not half-leaning on, comes down to rest gently on your stomach, rubbing small circles over your shirt. “I really shouldn’t be doing this with you tonight.” Despite her words, though, her hand creeps down your stomach until her fingers reach the waist of your pants.
You catch her arm before it can move down any further. “You don’t have to,” you murmur. Your breath hitches as she sighs again, exhaling warm air directly onto your ear. “I’m just complaining. If you don’t feel comfortable, you can go home, or we can just talk about books, or school, or whatever you want to talk about.”
A slight huff of laughter escapes her, and she leans closer to tug on the lobe of your ear. You shiver again. That feels far too nice. “You know,” she murmurs, “sometimes I wonder about you.” She slides her hand farther down, but seemingly deliberately, doesn’t slide her hand beneath your panties, resting them solidly on top of it.
