#raelly

Legs crossed, head down, deep breaths.

Old calming techniques she picked up at home when arguments with her mom became too much.

She’s in the middle of trying to name the feeling that Alder felt when she watched Nicte Batan walk away when Raelle comes into the room with a cup of tea for her.

It’s a welcome relief to have her best friend next to her; Raelle’s freshly showered and every bit of the definition of soft.

Tally finds herself reaching for Raelle’s hand after breathing out her frustrations and instead asking for Raelle to share her night—hoping to find distraction in Raelle’s soft voice and charming pride.

The smile that paints Raelle’s face when she almost puffs up proudly at the memory of blowing stuff up in front of military brass.

There’s a moment of silence and Tally’s reaction is only a breathy, “Wow.”

She kind of wishes she was there to see it.

The moment passes and Tally finds that Raelle’s just looking at her.

Empath-be-damned, Tally can’t get a read on what Raelle’s thinking. Only that the hand under her own has tensed just the slightest as Raelle grips her own knee and bites her lip, brows knitted together in thought.

“Rae?”

Tally’s voice seems to break whatever trance Raelle was sitting in and she straightens her back and shakes her head as if to brush off the thoughts crowding her mind.

“Sorry,” Raelle laughs, focus dropping to their hands and gently flipping her palm up to link their hands. “Is it stupid that I kind of wish Scylla were here to see it? It’s—”

“It’s?”

“It’s her seed, after all. The one she showed me.” Raelle looks embarrassed.

Tally kind of finds it cute.

She shakes her head and smiles, gripping Raelle’s hand back.

“No, of course not, Raelle. She meant a lot to you. It’d be silly to not be thinking about her at a time like this, right?” Tally reasons. “Sometimes I think about Gerit, too.”

She feels Raelle’s grip tighten in her hand.

“Yeah, but fuck him.”

The softness of the moment has been replaced by a firm frown on Raelle’s face. It catches Tally off-guard, the way Raelle stiffens and seems to zero in on Tally; though her gaze seems to be landing somewhere south of Tally’s eyes.

Tally laughs softly, “It’s fine, Rae.”

“No, you deserve better.”

And Tally knows she, herself, agrees. She knows that what Gerit did was unacceptable and that she deserves to find a person who is willing to give all of themselves, honesty and affection first, into a relationship with her. But she also knows that she leaned into it. She let herself live in a fantasy world where she could let her lust drive her without thinking of the repercussions and aftermath of it all.

It was kind of her fault, too.

She just wanted to feel that softness. The warmth that comes from being someone’s sole focus.

Tally’s been quiet for long enough, bottom lip caught between her teeth, that she doesn’t notice Raelle shifting closer to bring her free hand up to Tally’s jaw.

Her breath catches in her throat and she looks up to see blue eyes regarding her with a sense of carefulness that exceeds what gentle could even begin to define.

There seems to be a question in Raelle’s eyes, but Tally’s brain has taken off at a mile a minute into outer space; it’s doing loops around the rings of Saturn when she realizes she’s leaning in too.

And then they’re kissing.

It’s soft, careful, delicate, smooth, and so warm that Tally thinks her heart is going to plop right out of her chest and in between them.

Her brain comes to a skittering halt somewhere over the endless, endless blue of Neptune when she pulls away.

“Wait—”

“I’m sorry!” Raelle cuts her off, already falling back and scrambling away.

Tally realizes that’s one of the last things she wants and reaches out, hand grasping into the fabric of Raelle’s tank top.

“No!” The panic in her voice is scrambled by the sudden deep rasp that accompanies it.

Time stops and they’re just looking at each other.

“It’s okay.” Tally whispers, eyes unable to help themselves from darting back and forth between her best friend’s eyes and her lips. “Is this okay?”

Raelle looks like a statue; she’s carved from marble and the light’s hitting her so perfectly that Tally’s afraid that, in the panic of the moment, they’ve been hit by a wave of rogue work that’s frozen the two of them over.

And then she nods.

Tally nods too, because she’s not sure she can do anything other than mirror Raelle.

There’s a bundle of something joining the mess of feelings inside her — tunneling and twisting itself into the tangle — and she knows that this is only going to lead to trouble, but she can’t find it in herself to care too much as she burrows herself into Raelle, pushing and pressing against a warmth that she can’t define.

In the afternoon, the two of them will rush to the infirmary to find the third of their trio in pain. In the afternoon, they’ll awkwardly stand by each other and send shy smiles and silent agreements between each other. In the afternoon, they’ll deal with the aftermath of whatever this is.