Follow-up to coda | Masterlist!
Ava Silva x Sister Beatrice
Rating: M
Word Count: 17k
Multi-Chapter (3/3)
overture (n.): in music, an introduction, the orchestral piece that signifies that something is about to begin
It’s funny how quickly things change.
Almost two years ago, Beatrice Young and Ava Silva were strangers, separated by hundreds of seats and one fateful door. Now, in the mountains of Switzerland, they face an important question together: who is going to propose first?
Beatrice Young smiles as the wheels of the plane hit the runway, rattling both the plane and the woman asleep on her shoulder.
“What the fu-” Ava startles awake.
“We’re landing,” Beatrice says, voice laced with humor. (Not skittish and proud.)
“Mhm,” Ava hums through a yawn. She lifts her head to sit upright, taking a deep breath and blowing the air back out fast and angled high enough to ruffle her bangs. “How long was I out?”
“An hour or so.” Beatrice says, gently fixing a stray strand of hair that had flipped to the wrong side of Ava’s part. “You slept most of the flight.”
“Damn,” Ava laughs. “I keep forgetting how close Switzerland is to England.”
“Close?” Beatrice raises her eyebrows.
“Listen, Shannon talked Mary and I into taking spring break in California one year, and the flight from JFK to LAX was like five and a half hours, if I remember correctly,” Ava says. “In the states, this is practically nothing.”
Beatrice hums in understanding.
“The flight from London to Moscow is four hours,” she muses. “So I suppose I can see why it could be considered close.”
“Look at me, right as always,” Ava teases, attempting to kick her feet up for emphasis but having not nearly enough room to do so. She puts her feet back down with an impressive amount of dignity. “I love winning.”
“I wasn’t aware we were in a position to be winning or losing.”
“That’s cause you aren’t in the winner mindset,” Ava says, tapping her own forehead with one finger. “If you’ve got it up here, then you can get it anywhere you want.”
The fasten-seatbelt light turns off above their heads, and a wave of clicks from all around them sound as people get out of their seats and gather their belongings. Beatrice stands and opens their overhead compartment, lowering Ava’s tote bag and her backpack into Ava’s lap and her empty seat respectively.
“Thank you,” Ava smiles up at her, hair staticky and indentations from the creases in Beatrice’s shirt on her cheek.
Really, it shouldn’t be as charming as it is, but even after all this time, Beatrice revels in how easily she’d bend to and follow Ava's every whim. She reaches and brushes her cheek with the pad of her thumb as she sits back down, like she’s trying to smooth down the marks on her face, but it’s more an excuse to touch her than anything else.
The rows in front of them slowly begin to clear, until there’s only two rows in front of them left. Ava unfolds her cane beside her, and, once there’s room, they squeeze through the narrow aisle until they hit the jetbridge, where Ava’s wheelchair is waiting. Beatrice eases her tote off of her shoulder as Ava collapses her cane, placing it into her lap when she sits down.
