Chapter Text
“No, seriously,” Was spat out at the stranger unabashedly clinging onto her boyfriend’s arm in her spot in the club’s booth, “Get your hands off my man.”
Anya Forger, lying on her belly and cradling a bowl of mixed caramel popcorn and peanuts, rolled her eyes at the exaggerated dramatics that was her best friend and roommate’s favourite show, Berlint In Love, projected onto Anya’s bedroom wall, “I swear we’ve seen this episode before, Purps.”
“And how many times have we rewatched your favourite episodes of Spy Wars?” Becky Blackbell refuted with a delicate eyebrow raised— and then, when Anya parted her mouth in protest but remained silent, rather indelicately snarked, “Yeah, that’s what I thought, Pinky, you hypocritical hoe.”
Hands raised in surrender, Anya sighed, “Fine, fine. But you’re buying the snacks next week and I want at least five boxes of Cracker Jack, bitch.”
Weaponizing one of the pillows on the bed, Becky smacked her best friend on the head, “Bitch?” She shrieked. “You demand five boxes—“
“—At least five,” Anya corrected, wheezing and giggling through the attack. She rolled off the bed and onto the floor, but to her dismay, Becky launched herself off the bed and continued to chase her around her own room.
“—At least five fucking boxes of your senior citizen snacks that you also add more bags of peanuts to the cart because they don’t add enough fucking peanuts when I—“ SMACK.
“—Already—“ SMACK.
“—Fucking—“ SMACK.
“—Pay for—“ SMACK.
“—All of the snacks—“ SMACK.
“—And quite literally everything else!” SMACK.
A sharp knock on the door interrupted their shrill shouts of indignation and laughter and a tall woman with dark hair peeked out, “Is everything alright in there, girls?”
“Help me, Mama,” Anya pleaded, “You’re my only hope!”
Yor Forger, Anya’s mother, shook her head, eyes sparkled in amusement for the twenty-four-year-olds’ familiar antics, “I’m sorry, I don’t think I’ll be able to get you out of this. Although, aren’t you both much too old for this?”
“Nah.” The young women said in unison and smirked at each other before turning to Yor with grins full of giggles.
“Just try to keep it a little down in here, alright? We can’t have the neighbors call the police on us again.”
“Sure we will, Mama Yor,” Becky waved her hand in farewell with a beguiling smile that dropped the moment the ‘click’ of the door sounded.
It was at that moment that Anya knew she had fucked up.
Becky slowly stalked towards the pink-haired girl, who was also slowly backing away as well, “You’re mine now, Pinky!”
“Wait, attend, zhadt,” Anya pleaded. “S’il vous plaît, por favour, kudasai?”
“No matter how many languages you beg for your life in, this is what you deserve!” Becky raised the pillow high above her head in gleeful anticipation of a destroying blow.
“Oh, I’m really going to regret this but I accept going with whomever you set me up with to the Eden Academy reunion ball tomorrow!”
Becky gasped, dropping her battle weapon, “Really?”
Anya nodded furiously, “We can call this even and I’ll even watch two more episodes of Berlint In Love.”
Pursuing her lips in consideration, Becky hummed, “Anybody?”
“Anybody,” Anya confirmed.
“Fine,” Becky struck her hand out, “A deal’s a deal though, no backing out.”
“When have I ever backed out of a deal?” Anya snorted as she met her best friend’s hand to seal their business.
A slow smirk rose on Becky’s lips.
— — —
Start of outgoing telephone call:
“Hello? Blackbell?”
“Oh, wonderful, you still have my number saved!”
“Why would I not have— never mind, what do you want?”
“Straight to the point, as always, huh?”
“I don’t have time for this right now, what do you want?”
“Relax, will you? I’m only calling to ask if you plan to bring a plus one or accompany a fellow alumni to the Eden Academy reunion ball this Saturday? As the RSVP coordinator, I need to ensure the headcount. You understand, of course?”
“Is that all you’re asking about?”
“Yes, and what is your response? It’s truly a requirement, I’m calling Ewen next.”
“No, I do not plan on—”
“Okay, great! Amazing! And don’t worry your pretty little head about going stag.“
“Blackbell.”
“I know just the—“
“Becky.”
“—person who just so happens to need accompaniment—“
“Rebecca Blackbell, I swear, if this is a scheme to publicly humiliate me in retaliation for some meaningless offense you apparently think I committed against you—”
“Damn, Daniel, you haven’t changed a bit, have you?”
“Pardon?”
“Anyways, you do remember where Anya lives so you can pick her up, right? Right.”
“...”
“Damian? It’s been only five years. You're already losing your memory, you old man?”
“No… I remember.”
“Excellent! Now, we already went dress shopping so make sure whatever boring suit that you always wear matches celadon green— not light mint or dark emerald, celadon green. Capicsi?”
“Negative. You're going to have to find another poor unfortunate soul.”
“Wait, what? What do you mean? It’s Anya.”
“And? My answer is no. Besides, as the CEO of Desmond Group, anyone I would accompany, to even a meaningless and ridiculous five-year secondary school reunion, would be seen as a declaration of all sorts. I prefer to not be subjected to further scrutiny. I doubt she would as well.”
“Hmm, sure, okay, boomer, but I call cap. Anyways, remember, celadon green. Oh, and pick her up at—”
“Huh, why the hell are you squealing and rolling around?”
“Oops, sorry Anya, did I wake you?”
“I thought we called a ceasefire when I agreed to continue watching your show and to go with some creepy mofo of your choosing. Also, you didn’t specify that I had to be awake during it though before the handshake ended. Heh.”
“No, no, no, I am not doing this right now.”
“Wait, wait, no, don’t you dare hang up!”
“Don’t call again, Blackbell.”
“Who are you on the phone with?”
End of outgoing telephone call.
— — —
“Ugh. Emotional range of a teaspoon, really.”