#heypray

"What is it?" She whispered, reaching out to poke the cat. Kamarie growled.

Madeline snorted and closed her textbook. She was not retaining the information anyway, and it was useless to keep reading the same paragraph over and over again. She leaned back in her chair.

"That's my cat. You said you liked cats."

"I said that I felt 'good' about cats, thank you very much," Gillian muttered and poked Kumarie again, "and that is not a cat."

Madeline laughed and looked at them both fondly.

"No, I'm pretty sure she's a cat. At least, she was yesterday."

"Nah, I think it's a marshmallow…"

"A…?" Madeline paused. It was true that her cat was big and fluffy; she was a white Maine Coon, of course, and immense even for a breed known for large cats. Madeline shook her head. "No. No, her name is Kumarie, and she is definitely a cat."

"We'll see…" It sounded foreboding but Gillian just nodded to the cat, as if striking some accord, before falling backwards onto the floorboards. Kumarie huffed and pattered out of the den. Gillian turned back to her. "So what are you doing, then? Why aren't you painting?"

"I was trying to study."

"And how's that going?"

"Badly," Madeline shrugged. She was not worried though, not really. She was already three chapters ahead of the rest of her class. It was just frustrating.

"Then we should play a game!"

Madeline raised an eyebrow. Gillian wiggled hers.

"… What kind of game?"

"Let's play poker!"

"… What kind of poker?"

"Strip poker! Here, I'll start!" Gillian started peeling off her shirt. Madeline was up and across the den in two seconds.

"Ah, ah, no!" She held her hands down, and the shirt with them. "That's fine! That's fine, let's play a different game!"

Gillian blinked.

"You're repressed," she grinned after a moment. Madeline sputtered. "No, you are, but that's okay. You're cute."

Madeline blushed.

"You're an idiot," she mumbled.

"And you're still holding my hands."

Madeline looked down and found that she was, in fact, still holding her hands, and her shirt, down. She let go as if burnt.

"I… I…"

"See? Cute."

Gillian smiled at her, all warmth and sunlight, and her heart skipped a beat. She looked away.

"'m not cute…" She pouted. She could feel the blush spreading to her ears and chest.

"You're adorable!" Gillian threw an arm around her and pulled her down onto the floor in a cloud of dust. Madeline laughed, and Gillian curled around her. She tugged on her hair.

"What else can we play?" She whispered once the dust had settled. Gillian hummed.

"How about checkers? Regular, boring checkers," she elaborated before Madeline could ask, "with clothes and everything… Spoilsport."

Madeline giggled.

She pulled the pillow down and blinked.

Oh. Right. Her new roommate.

Gillian sat up and yawned, stretching her arms above her head. Her camisole had bunched up around her stomach and her bare legs went on for miles.

Madeline could see her panties. They were lime green.

"You."

"Me," Gillian agreed, nodding. Her ponytail was lopsided.

"Weren't you…?"

"I live here now," she interrupted.

"Yes, I remember that part," Madeline sighed. She tried to run her hands through her hair but it was a lost cause. "But I cleared a spot on the couch for you last night."

"This morning, you mean."

"And thank you again for that…"

Gillian threw herself into Madeline's lap and rolled around, kicking her feet and pounding her fists like a child.

"But it smelled like paint in theeere, and I wanted to sleep with yooou!" She turned over so that she was looking up and tugged on Madeline's curls with nimble fingers. Madeline bent over and her curtain of hair created a private world, just for them.

She really was a beautiful woman, if a little odd. Her mannerisms were large and expressive and she hummed with barely restrained energy. She was a bit thin, a little rough and tumble, but it suited her.

Madeline bit her lip and tried not to laugh as Gillian continued to throw a tantrum.

"But this is my bed," Madeline pointed out.

"Our bed."

"No, my bed."

Gillian pouted, and it was a practiced expression, if her quivering lip and fluttering eyelashes were anything to go by; practiced and perfected.

"But it was cold out there," she gestured to the den, "and it smelled like paint, and you weren't there, and I was alone, and I hate being alone, but you were warm and in here and so now I'm here too."

Madeline frowned.

"But…"

"We should have pancakes. Pancakes are great. We should have them."

Gillian was the most manic and unpredictable person that Madeline had ever met but she made a good point…. Pancakes were great.

"I guess we could…" Madeline started running through ingredients in her head, checking them off. Gillian carried on.

"Before your, uhm, what was it again?" Gillian tapped her chin in thought. "Oh yeah, your 'practicum'… Your test... Thing. When is that, by the way?"

Madeline looked up with wide eyes.

Her… Practicum…? Oh shit!

She bounded to her feet and jostled the bed, pulling the blankets with her. Gillian toppled over and giggled.

"Oh no, what time is it?"

"Uh, eight. It's eight. In the morning."

"Fuck!"

Madeline leapt off the bed and scrambled for her clothes. She shrugged on a sweater that she may or may not have worn last week and jumped into her jeans. She hopped around her bedroom on one foot.

Gillian sprawled across the bed and watched her.

"So… No pancakes then?"

She ran her fingers through her stubborn mane and cursed under her breath. If this was her sadistic landlord again, well... She would just have to put him in his place. And did she have a few choice words for him!

… Such as 'Sorry', 'So sorry,' and 'Please don't kick me out'. She had never quite mastered the art of putting her foot down or speaking her mind. Which was a shame, really. It sounded wonderful.

Madeline stumbled out of bed and grabbed her housecoat, tattered and splashed with dried paint. It was hideous and orange, worn and torn, and the belt was actually a length of rope. One of the pockets was missing.

But she was not looking to impress her landlord. Not at four in the morning and not when she had a practicum in a couple of hours.

The knocking continued as she stepped over the paint cans and jumbled boxes in what passed for the den. She muttered and ran her fingertips over a stretched canvas. Her latest oil paintings were laid out to dry, side by side.

She was pleased to see that her rotten cat had not stepped through the paint. Yet.

It was a small apartment, with squeaking floorboards and crumbling walls. Several doors had been mislaid during renovations, including the bathroom door. The refrigerator needed to be latched shut and the faucet leaked and there were suspicious stains all over the rug.

Hell, there were suspicious stains everywhere.

It was not much, but it was all she could afford and that made it home. It was her home and her sanctuary. And someone was hammering on the goddamned door.

Madeline yanked it open.

"What?!" She growled, expecting to see her crooked landlord or perhaps even one of her more bothersome neighbours. Instead, she came face to face with another woman.

… And a beautiful woman, at that…

"Hey!" The stranger raised her hand and smirked. Her blue camisole was slipping off one of her shoulders but it hugged to her breasts. Her jean shorts highlighted her long legs. "Bad time?"

Madeline deflated, opening and closing her mouth a few times in disbelief. It was too late for this, or maybe too early. She stared at the other woman, confused and exhausted and just plain bewildered.

"What?" She asked again, a little softer than before.

"Is this a bad time?"

"… It's four in the morning…"

"… And?"

Madeline blinked as the woman bounced up and down in excitement. She was as pale as the moonlight but her expressions were as bright as the sun and the contrast was mesmerizing. Her smile was wide and welcoming; her eyes were expressive and the colour of garnets. Her frosted hair was unkempt and wild, and it brushed past her waist.

"… And it's four in the morning."

The woman shrugged and gestured to the suitcases at her feet.

"Is it really? I just couldn't wait to meet you."

"Uhm…"

"Hi! I'm your new roommate! Surprise!"

Madeline blinked again. And then she slammed the door shut.

She leaned against it, shaking and scrabbling against the wooden door. What was she going to do? There was a psychopath outside; a hot, terribly sexy psychopath! What a way to die!

She slithered down to the floor.

"Oh no, oh dear," Madeline rocked back and forth, clutching the edge of her nightgown. She was in trouble now. "Oh no."

"Maddie? Maddie!" The woman started pounding on the door again, even louder than before. "Maddie, let me in!"

And the psychopath knew her name! That was a bad sign. That was a very bad sign.

"Go away!" She shouted. She wondered briefly why none of her awful neighbours were checking in on her; they were usually so nosy.  It figured that this would be the one time they minded their own damned business.

"Maddie, it's Gillian! We spoke on the phone."

Madeline stopped rocking and looked up.

... It was true that she was looking for a roommate to shoulder some of the rent, preferably in college and preferably female. She had been calling around setting up interviews. And she had spoken to a Ms. Gillian on the telephone. Just yesterday, in fact.

But she had never asked her to move in.

Madeline stood on her tiptoes, like that might help, and peeked through the door.

"What are you doing here…?"

Gillian scratched the back of her head.

"I'm your new roommate," she repeated, wrapping her tongue around the words as if Madeline was slow. "Remember?"

"No," she said bluntly. She crossed her arms over her chest and frowned.

"You called me. You told me to come down."

"For an interview." Madeline stressed, and come on, who would invite a stranger to live with them? Over the telephone? That was just asking for trouble.

"An… Interview?"

"Yes."

"Oh…" Gillian trailed off. She looked a bit baffled and depressed for all of two seconds before lighting up again. "Then fire away!"

Madeline pulled her housecoat tighter around her.

"… Excuse me?"

"Ask me questions; interview me, interrogate me! Whatever you want," Gillian propped one of her sneakers against a pink suitcase and put her hands on her hips. She stuck out her chest. "I'm a great roommate, I'll prove it. Just give me a chance!"

Madeline sighed in exasperation. What did she have to lose, really? Besides another hour of sleep.

She rubbed her eyes and cleared her throat. Gillian stood a little straighter.

"Fine. What's your major?"

"Business," Gillian stuck out her tongue.

"And how do you plan to pay your half of the bills?"

"With money."

Madeline snorted.

"Where do you plan to get the money?"

"Hell, mostly."

"… What?"

"I work at TeleCOM on Main Street," she explained, "which is also known as 'Hell on Earth'. I hate it there, but it pays the bills, so...  In the summer, I walk dogs on the Upper East Side. That's much cooler."

Madeline smiled into her hand. Gillian was a telemarketer, then. Oh dear.

"Hell. Got it. What are your hobbies?"

"Drinking."

Madeline rolled her eyes.

"That's not a hobby. Do you smoke?"

"No."

"Drugs?"

"Sometimes."

"How do you feel about cats?"

"Uh… Good, I guess…? I feel, uh, 'good' about cats."

"You'll have to help out with chores."

"'Kay."

"And the groceries."

"Uh huh."

"Rent is due at the end of the month."

"Alright."

Madeline stared her down, drained and petulant and a little less timid than usual. She just wanted to crawl back into bed. Gillian met her gaze without flinching.

So she held out her hand. Gillian shook it.

And that was that.

"Come in, then. We'll work out the details in the morning."

"… It is the morning."

"And thank you so much for reminding me of that."

Gillian laughed and scooped up her suitcases. She kicked the front door closed behind her and looked over the mess of paint and art supplies. She grinned.

"You said you were a nurse on the phone," Gillian stepped closer to a canvas splashed with different shades of blue and brushed her fingers over the dried creases. She cocked her head to the side.

"I am."

"So what's with the, ah…?" She gestured to the piece.

"I like painting, so I… Uh, paint."

Gillian hummed and turned on her heel, taking in the piles of unfinished projects. She lingered in front of some and hurried past others.

"I can see that," she whispered in awe.

Madeline twisted her fingers into her housecoat and blushed.

"… Do… Do you like them?" She asked bashfully. She could be aggressive, sometimes, if she worked very hard at it, but never when it came to her paintings.  Never.  She put her heart into each and every one of them, and that left her vulnerable. It left her exposed. And she did not take criticism well.

Gillian twirled around and beamed. She threw an arm around Madeline.

"I love them!"

Madeline flushed darker and tried to hide behind her hands but Gillian was already leading her around the den in a strange sort of jig. She giggled.

She had never had a roommate before; she had never needed one, but this could be fun.

Madeline was introverted and self conscious and it was hard for her to make friends. She kept to the sidelines. She tended to paint until dawn and sleep in the next morning. Her hair was a knotted mass of uncontrollable curls and there were circles under her eyes and there were always oil stains on her knees. Her socks never matched.

She was not, exactly, a social butterfly.

But when Gillian smiled at her like that, she thought that maybe she could be.

"Your bedroom is at the end of the hall," Madeline laughed breathlessly. "I should go back to bed too…"

Gillian raised an eyebrow.

"Is there a, uh, matress in my room?  Or anything?"

"I, erhm...  No," Madeline bit her lip. She had forgotten that little detail, but it was not as if she had had much time to prepare. Gillian would just have to sleep on the sofa tonight.

… Except that the sofa was buried somewhere under the mountain of art supplies…

Whoops.

"That's alright," Gillian pulled her closer and kissed her on the cheek. "I'll just bunk with you."

Madeline sputtered.

"That… That's not…"

"It's the perfect solution!" Gillian picked up her suitcases again and balanced one on each shoulder. "Which way?"

"I don't think we should...!"

"It's this way, isn't it? I'm going to go this way." She started walking down the corridor. Madeline ran after her.

"Gillian! Wait! Stop!"

"Call me 'Gil'."

"Gil!"

Author's Notes:

I want to write a series of one shots for this alternate universe, which is the brainchild of the wonderful 'heypray' on Tumblr, but I wanted to establish them as roommates first. Then I can write individual encounters and the evolution of their relationship. It'll be chaotic. Just a bit.

They're sooo awkward, and it kills me inside, but it also makes it more authentic. I have a roommate, and I've had roommates in the past, so I am speaking from experience. More than that, I am a roommate, if that distinction makes any sense to you.

It was very nice of 'heypray' to let me play around with her characters. With her continued permission, I would love to flesh them out a bit more. Please visit her account and revel in the sweetness.

She wrote that Madeline (Maddie) is a starving artist looking for a new roommate. She ends up with Gillian (Gil). Madeline is a sophomore in college and she is studying medicine; Gillian is a senior and studying business. Madeline interns as a nurse but she would much rather paint. In the future, I hope that she can. Gillian does not know what she wants to do with her life but she's content in the meantime. She works as a telemarketer, and hates it, but it pays the bills.