Actions

Work Header

it's bloody and raw, but i swear it is sweet

Work Text:

 

Dot’s never had a best friend before.

But that position has now been filled by an obnoxious, spoiled, California girly girl, who wears shirts that say dumb shit like If karma won’t slap you, I will on them, so there’s a first time for everything.

 

 

*

 

 

i.

Dot doesn’t remember making a conscious decision to stay close to Fatin after the crash, it just kind of happens.

After Jeannette dies, everyone left on the island technically has a person, but some are closer than others; twins, BFFs and classmates aren’t exactly on the same level.

And yeah, Dot is used to being a lone wolf, but it’s different on the island - alone feels more lonely - and somehow, without her really noticing, Fatin becomes the closest thing she’s had to a friend in a long ass time.

They have absolutely nothing in common, but that doesn’t seem to matter out here; Dot doesn’t understand half the shit Fatin talks about, but she’s pretty funny and she keeps up and sometimes it feels like she’s the only other normal fucking person here.

It’s just easy with her, and it’s not often that Dot gets along with other people so effortlessly.

“So, what’s your deal?” Fatin asks her one day, as they make their way through the forest and towards the waterfall she found when she disappeared a few days back.

They’ve been assigned H20 duty, and apparently Fatin’s decided that means they should trade war stories instead of just biting banter for once.

“My deal?” Dot repeats distractedly, more concerned with making sure they’re following the right path than whatever the other girl is talking about.

It’s the first time any of them have had to go back since that afternoon, and it’s also the first time they’ve broached anything resembling a serious topic with one another since, like, day two of this nightmare.

Fatin seems much less worried about either of those things than her, though. “Yeah, your tragic backstory, childhood trauma,” she elaborates lightly, as if that’s an inviting, casual question. “I seem to recall you echoing my FML sentiment hard early on in our little vaycay in Hell.”

Dot can’t help but admire this girl’s blunt, laid-back attitude about everything. Something about it makes her easy to talk to, even about the hard shit - a lot easier than it was to talk to Shelby, who both knew her dad and was clearly looking for the token tearjerking heart-to-heart that’s a staple in every Survivor winner’s edit.

“Dead dad,” she actually finds herself answering back, just as bluntly. “Well, dying dad. Then dead dad.”

“That blows,” Fatin replies smoothly, not missing a beat or step, but somehow not sounding disinterested, either. “No Mama Campbell?”

Okay, guess we’re really doing this, Dot thinks, and decides to play along.

“Just us,” she tells her, pushing a bunch of branches out of the way and waiting for Fatin to walk past first before she follows behind her. She decides to save the Mateo convo for later. “We didn’t have a whole lot of money and meds are expensive as fuck, so I had to get creative, but I took care of it.”

“Ah, so that’s why you’re so good at going all girl boss on us, you're used to handling everything,” the taller girl muses, sporting an impressed smile when she glances back at her. “I knew I was getting big Taurus vibes off you.”

Dot knows she’s right, but she’s never been great at admitting or accepting praise for it; her dad was sick and he didn’t have anyone else to take care of him, so she stepped up and did what she had to do to make sure his pain was as bearable as possible - even if that meant ending it when the time came.

Yeah, it was hard - some days more than others - but isn’t that what any daughter would do for their dad?

And she knows she’s doing it for perfect strangers now, too, but that’s just who she is; Dot puts one foot in front of the other, and if that makes it easier for others to follow her, then she’ll try to lead the way the best she can.

“Guess so,” she shrugs, falling into step with Fatin again and swiftly moving the topic of conversation off of herself. “What about you? Why was your recent history such shit?”

“Skank dad,” Fatin answers as bluntly as she says everything else, but with a slightly bitter edge in her tone. “I used to just have mommy issues - which I was a pro at - but then it turns out daddy dearest was pulling a Jude Law circa 2005, but with the entirety of the East Bay instead of just the nanny. Shit hit the fan.”

“Bummer,” is all Dot can really say at first, not sure what else she can offer; Fatin seems more pissed than upset, so it’s not even like she’s looking for comfort. “Divorces can get pretty ugly, huh?”

Ha, I wish,” Fatin laughs dryly. “No, get this: not only does she stay with him, but they both blame me for it.”

“How does that work?”

Fatin waves her off, and casually explains, “I guess ‘cause I’m the one that found the sexts and sent his dick pic to everyone in his contacts. Apparently I shamed the family.” She uses air quotes and everything, then looks to Dot for commiseration. “Such bullshit.”

“Dude, that’s fucked up,” she laughs incredulously, and though she means both Fatin sending out her dad’s nudes to everyone he knows and her parents placing all the blame on her for her dad taking said pictures in the first place, she still offers the other girl her fist in solidarity. “Respect.”

Fatin looks absolutely delighted when she quickly bumps it with her own. “I knew I liked you, Dorothy.”

 

 

 

ii.

Witnessing her dad slowly deteriorate from cancer for years means that Dot is no stranger to feeling useless, but as she watches Nora swim out towards Rachel after the shark pulls her under, it’s the first time she’s truly felt it since crashing on this fucking island.

It’s too hard to watch and suddenly it’s hard to breathe, and Dot turns and stalks away just as Nora finally reaches her sister and somehow manages to grab Rachel without becoming shark food herself.

“Dorothy!” she hears Fatin calling after her, and then she hears her following, too. “What the fuck, dude? Where are you going?!”

Dot stops, but doesn’t answer right away; she turns back around to look out at the ocean, but not at her friends desperately fighting to get back to shore and leaving a terrifying trail of red behind them.

“I-I can’t,” she stutters out just as Fatin reaches her, voice strangled and eyes unfocused.

Fatin grabs her by the shoulders and tries to jolt her back to reality. “What do you mean you can’t?” When she doesn’t get the response she wants - or any at all - she shakes her again, this time a little harder. “Snap the fuck out of it, girl, we need you right now!”

“It’s my fault,” Dot finally chokes out, dragging her gaze over to the girl in front of her and finding nothing but desperate confusion reflected back at her.

What?

Dot opens her mouth to respond, but she falters as some of her common sense slowly starts to kick back in.

She knows it’s illogical - that she did nothing to cause this and could have done nothing to prevent this - but it still feels like she should have, somehow.

“I-I keep fucking up,” she tries to explain hollowly, eyes drifting past Fatin to watch as Toni and Shelby run out into the ocean to help Nora bring Rachel the rest of the way out of the water. “I didn’t check on Jeannette, the cave was a total fucking bust, I lost the lighter, I let everyone eat through our whole stash.” She shakes her head at all the ways she’s failed these girls, and she thinks of her dad, too. “If I let someone else die-”

Fatin shakes her one more time, stopping her before she can finish.

“Jesus fuck, Dorothy, we’d all be dead by now if it weren’t for you!” The other girl’s nails dig into her skin, while she uses her other hand to roughly grab her face and pull her eyes back to her. “The only way Rachel dying would be your fault is if you don’t get your shit together and come help her.”

She can hear the other girls screaming her name as they work together to carry Rachel’s shaking, bloody body further up the beach, but it’s Fatin’s words that break through.

Dot has no idea what to do for someone that’s just survived a fucking shark attack, but she can at least try to figure it out.

(One foot in front of the other.)

“Okay,” Dot finally breathes out, nodding resolutely, before letting Fatin take her hand and drag her back where she’s needed.

 

 

Dot doesn’t get a chance to talk to Fatin again until many hours later, when the sun has gone down and things with Rachel are at least a little bit under control.

(She ended up losing her whole hand, which fucking blows, but she got attacked by a damn shark, so she got off pretty easy, considering; Nora has some gnarly looking teeth marks on her leg, but otherwise, escaped fairly unscathed, too. Dot did what she could, with some big assistance from Nora’s much larger and faster brain, that must have been running on pure adrenaline at that point, but they won’t know how Rachel’s really doing until she wakes up a little more sober tomorrow.

Either way, she’s got a long, hard road ahead of her, but at least she’s got one, and that’s at least partially thanks to Dot.)

“How’s she doing?” Fatin wonders as she approaches, moving over on the branch she’s sitting on to make room for her.

“The meds finally knocked her out,” Dot answers, dropping down with a heavy sigh and running an exhausted hand over her face now that she can finally relax a little. “Sorry about my epic meltdown earlier, don’t know what happened.” She keeps watching Nora watch Rachel for another moment, before she finally looks over at the girl beside her. “Thanks for the kick in the ass.”

Please, I think we’re all permitted at least one mental breakdown each out here,” Fatin’s quick to dismiss with a scoff, wordlessly passing the almost empty bottle of vodka over to her to finish. “It was really about time you had yours.”

Dot lets out a humorless laugh at the fact that she thinks this is the first time she’s lost her shit.

“I already had mine, back on, like, day three,” she doesn’t mind admitting to the other girl as she takes a swig. “I went HAM on a snake that cornered Shelby in the woods.”

“Damn, Dorothy, don’t tell Martha,” Fatin jokes with a low whistle, clearly forgetting Martha’s own breakdown just yesterday - it’s understandable, they’re hard to keep track of by now. She nudges Dot’s knee with her own. “So what you’re saying is that you’re just as much of a mess as the rest of us?”

Probably more, Dot thinks, but just shrugs and says, “You have no idea.”

The space between them is silent for a moment, which doesn’t happen often, and then suddenly Fatin’s getting serious on her, which is even rarer.

“Listen, not everything that happens to us on this goddamn island is your responsibility, alright?” she tells her forcefully, wanting to make sure she knows. “You take good care of us - I mean it, we’d all seriously be fucked without you, and we all know it - but don’t forget to take care of yourself, too.”

It reminds Dot of what Mateo told her that night in the garage, her last Christmas Eve with her dad, and she takes in the words now, as much as she did then.

Dot doesn’t kiss Fatin like she kissed Mateo when he said it, but as she looks over at her friend - probably the best one she’s got - who’s looking back at her so earnestly, it’s the first time she’s ever thought about it.

“You do a pretty good job, too, you know?” she feels the need to tell Fatin, because Dot’s not so sure she could handle being out here without her, either.

Fatin plays off the compliment with a playful roll of her eyes, but she can’t hide the smile that spreads across her face, even in the dark.

 

 

 

iii.

Dot doesn’t know how long they’ve been in this hole for when they’re finally let out of quarantine - a week, maybe? Keeping track of days was more Nora’s thing - but it feels like it’s been forever since she’s seen the other girls.

She never would have thought she’d miss anyone but her dad, but she guesses it’s true what TV says, about tragedy and trauma bonding people and how finding family in strange situations and even stranger people is possible, because she’s missed the shit out of them all.

And apparently, they’ve missed her, too.

Or at least Fatin did, because as soon as Dot walks through the door Agent Young holds open for her and steps inside what looks like a small cafeteria or lunchroom, the other girl is jumping out of her seat to give her a full body hug that would have knocked her off her feet, if they weren’t so firmly planted on the ground.

It’s the first hug Dot has had since… God, she doesn't even know when, and she’s surprised by just how sorely it’s needed.

“Hey, Uptown Girl,” she laughs, wrapping her arms around Fatin’s slim waist so she can lift her up for a second before they let each other go. She pulls back to get a better look at her friend, all cleaned up. “Nice to see you, too.”

“Thank God you’re here,” Fatin sighs dramatically, looking over at the table she’d come from, where most of the other girls are seated. “The lovebirds are being insufferable and nobody will heckle them with me. They’re all so damn serious.”

Dot follows her gaze and finds everyone but Leah sitting at the same table, though Nora’s sitting alone at one end, with Rachel somewhere in between; Shelby and Toni are sitting particularly close, and she can see their intertwined hands from here.

She can’t help but smile at them a little, if just because Shelby’s finally smiling too; after all the shit she’s been through to get here - to finally let them all see what they’d all already known - Dot has to be happy for her.

“Come on, they’re kinda cute.”

Trust me, they were so much more bearable when they were in their glass closet,” Fatin insists, but it’s obvious she doesn’t mean it by the way her lips twitch up. “We totally should have been the island’s sapphic power couple. And we could’ve been, if you didn’t keep giving me blue balls.”

Dot laughs loudly as the other girl pulls her further into the room and over to see the rest of the group, and yeah.

She definitely missed Fatin the most.

 

 

 

iv.

When all is said and done, this shit takes over a year of their lives from them, and it takes even longer than that for things to return to any semblance of what their lives were before it.

Fatin gets a place in L.A., just like she planned, and while she doesn’t make it out there right away, eventually Dot moves in with her just as planned, too.

It’s a culture shock to say the least, and Dot still doesn’t understand half of what Fatin says or wears, but it’s the first time she’s had actual fun in years.

The girl is just as funny and ridiculous off the island as she was on, and despite the many ways they’re so incredibly different, it never seems to get in the way.

Dot makes Fatin watch reality TV shows that don’t involve makeovers or Kardashians, and Fatin makes Dot try all of her favorite fancy rich people food and come out to parties with her, before the novelty of them eventually starts to wear off.

They’re just them and they just work, whether it makes sense to anyone else or not.

And they don’t, really - make sense to others - because the only people in the world that would understand are six other girls scattered across the country, and that part is a little harder.

They all still talk, a lot, actually, but it’s not the same.

Nora and Rachel are back in New York, figuring all their complicated shit out, and Martha and Toni are in Minnesota, where, last Dot heard, Shelby was looking to move to to get away from her bible thumping, psychotic dad; Leah’s home in the Bay, working to put back together everything the island broke inside of her, and everything Jeff did before that.

Fatin and Dot are in L.A., living in an apartment Fatin’s parents’ guilt paid for, that’s bigger than the house Dot grew up in, where they’re currently sharing a bed.

(Nightmares aren’t easy, either, and neither is sleeping alone when you’ve gotten used to sleeping beside someone else.)

“Do you think we’ll ever feel totally normal again?” Fatin wonders in the dark one night, her eyes on the ceiling and her fingers tangled with Dot’s, just like they have been since she woke up screaming an hour ago.

It’s a question Dot’s asked herself more times than she can count, but never once has had an answer to. She’s not even sure what is normal for her at this point, considering anything resembling as much stopped being a possibility the second her dad was diagnosed.

“I don’t know,” she replies back honestly, knowing the girl isn’t interested in platitudes. “Best I figure is we’ll get used to it.”

(One foot in front of the other.)

“Our new normal,” Fatin muses, her tone hard to read, but the squeeze of her hand around Dot’s a little easier to. “Could be a hell of a lot worse,” she decides, and what she means is at least we have each other.

And Dot certainly can’t argue with that.

 

 

 

v.

Of all the other girls, Leah is the one they talk to the most.

She’s the closest and she’s the only one that’s on her own now, and when she gets the time to - between starting college classes and work - she finally makes the trip down to L.A. to stay for a weekend.

It’s the first time they’ve seen each other in person and not through a screen since the trial ended, and though it’s a bit awkward at first, it doesn’t take long for them to fall back into old habits - minus the fucked up experiment and eventually proven to be warranted paranoia.

“You can crash in my room,” Dot tells her when they finally get back to the apartment after showing her around the city all afternoon.

“I’m okay on the couch,” Leah tries to offer, adjusting the bag she’s carrying on her shoulder. “Clearly I’ve slept on worse.”

(They’re all in a place where they can joke about it now.)

“It’s fine, Dorothy loves sleeping with me,” Fatin waves her off, sending Dot a wink and bumping their hips before she grabs Leah’s bag from her to take back to her temporary bedroom.

Dot can tell she’s just trying to play off the real reason they often share a bed for Leah’s benefit, but their guest clearly doesn’t pick up on it.

“Are you sure that’s wise?” she asks as they move into the living room. “Considering how many other people love sleeping with her, too?”

There’s no trace of malicious or judgment in her tone, so despite a messy history that might suggest otherwise, Dot knows Leah’s just teasing Fatin the same way she often does herself.

But she still gets a little bit of satisfaction when she informs their friend that, “Actually, Fatin hasn’t had anyone over since we moved in.”

“So you get the place to yourself most nights?” Leah assumes as she finds a spot on the couch and throws herself down on it.

“No, I mean that she hasn’t hooked up with anyone since we’ve been back,” she clarifies, even though she can’t be completely sure. As far as Dot knows, she hasn’t, and Fatin’s never been shy about things like that, so.

“Really? Fatin?” Leah questions skeptically, just as the devil enters the room.

“What about me?” Fatin wonders lightly, moving to perch herself on the arm of the chair Dot is sitting in.

“I’m just marveling at the fact that you apparently haven’t found a healthy penis to fornicate with yet,” the third girl explains, smirking as she recites the girl’s ridiculous quote back at her.

“Fuck off,” Fatin laughs right back. “Why would I need a man when I’ve got Dorothy around?” Standing back up as quickly as she sat down, she heads towards the kitchen. “Anyways, what do you bitches want for din-din? Mama’s paying!”

Leah wants to go to the Pacific Dining Car, Fatin accuses her of being cliche, and Dot’s too preoccupied to have an opinion.

 

 

The topic doesn’t come up again by the time Leah goes back home, and Dot decides not to ask Fatin about it after, either.

She’d be lying if she said she isn’t curious now, but it’s not something she ever noticed before, and she’s never made other people’s business hers, so she doesn’t start now.

Or, at least she wasn’t planning to, until she arrives at the trail she’d agreed to meet Fatin at for a hike, and finds the other girl talking to an objectively hot guy that’s obviously trying to hit on her.

Dot hangs back to give them some privacy, but it turns out she doesn’t have to wait long before the dude is stalking away dejectedly and Fatin’s waving her over.

“What was that about?” Dot asks as she approaches, and of course she already knows, but when an opening presents itself, she takes it.

Fatin scoffs and grabs the water bottle being offered to her as they begin their journey. “Just some guy trying to smash, the ushe.”

“And you passed?” she questions, even though again, she already knows the answer. “But he was, like, really hot.”

“Didn’t know that was your type,” Fatin responds, looking over at her like she’s studying her.

“It’s not,” Dot admits, though she doesn’t really think she has one. The closest thing she’s ever had to a crush was the excitement of realizing Mateo had one on her. “But I would have thought he was yours.”

“Why, because your tired, cisnormative way of thinking presumes he has a dick?”

Fatin doesn’t sound offended by the prospect, so Dot doesn’t deny it. “Kinda, yeah.”

“That’s fair,” the other girl laughs, because she’s as self aware and unabashed as they come. “This is about what Leah said, right?”

“I mean, I guess,” Dot concedes, twisting the cap of her own water bottle anxiously as they reach the dirt trail that starts the incline. “Just making sure nothing’s up.”

Dot waits for an answer so long that she starts to wonder if one is even coming, but just as she’s about to take it back, Fatin finally tells her, “I’m just kinda over it.”

“Really?” She’s a little surprised, though she’s not sure what answer she’d been expecting, or even hoping for.

“Nothing like being stranded on an island with seven other girls to make you realize just how unnecessary boys are,” the taller girl quips, but there’s some truth in her words, too, for both of them. “Maybe that psycho cunt’s experiment did make some points.”

(Dot certainly wouldn’t go that far, but while the first couple weeks on that beach made her miss Mateo and regret not taking a chance with him, the next six - and all that came after them - were enough to ensure she didn’t return his calls when she eventually went back to Dallas, so.)

“And she finally understands feminism, ladies and assholes,” Dot jokes, always enjoying giving Fatin shit for their first conversation before they ended up in Hell. It earns her a light shove in the shoulder, just as they both have to move out of the way of an older couple making their way down the mountain. She waits until they’ve passed before she starts grilling her again. “So you’re really over the meaningless one night stands?”

Fatin gives a single, emphatic nod. “Completely cancelled.”

“So, what, you're looking for an actual boyfriend now?”

Dot watches her friend for the next few strides, who seems to be silently debating her answer as she sips her water. “I wouldn’t say looking,” she eventually reveals, sounding pretty confident in what she’s settled on sharing. “And I definitely wouldn’t say boy.”

“Strictly older men then?” Dot assumes, thinking back to the guy she’d turned down in the park, who definitely looked more manly than boyish. “Because Leah made that seem so appealing?”

“I was thinking more of a cute, storage loving, reality TV addicted, cigarette smokin’ Texan,” she explains casually, employing her best impression of Shelby’s Southern drawl for that last point. “One I’m already living in sin with and everyone probably assumes I’m already dating would be preferable. And a Taurus, definitely a Taurus, the most giving of luvahs.”

Dot stopped walking a sentence in, but it takes Fatin until the end of her attempt at cheekiness to notice and turn around to look at her.

“Me?” she clarifies, sounding dubious even though the girl couldn’t have spelt it out any clearer.

Fatin chuckles and closes the distance between them, until she’s standing right in front of her. “Yes, you dumbfuck.”

The typical Fatin response is all it takes to knock Dot out of her surprise induced stupor, and it’s all it takes for her to know, without much thought or any doubt, that she feels whatever her best friend is feeling, too.

“Wow, starting with the pet names already,” she retorts with pursed lips, pretending to study Fatin critically for a moment. “I haven’t even decided if I like you back yet or not.”

Fatin’s face breaks out in a giant grin, as good at understanding Dot as Dot is at understanding her.

“Oh, Dorothy Jane,” she sighs, falling back a couple steps, but holding out her hand for the other girl to take. “I don’t know much about love, but I know you love me.”

And to prove her right, Dot takes her hand and leads them the rest of the way up the mountain, and doesn’t kiss her until they reach the very top.

 

 

 

i.

The first time all eight girls are back together and in the same room is for Dot’s birthday.

Fatin plans a surprise party and invites only them, paying for everyone’s plane tickets so none of them have any excuse not to come - past plane crash related trauma was preemptively vetoed on account of it being bullshit.

Dot has no idea it’s happening until she walks into their apartment after lunch and almost shits her pants when she sees who’s waiting for them, and she has no idea when Fatin mastered the art of subtly, either.

And that’s probably because she didn’t, considering Shelby - currently sporting a light pink wig with blunt bangs, that unintentionally matches with the brighter pink streaks she’s sporting these days herself - corners Dot in the kitchen to grill her the first chance she gets.

“Are y’all two datin’ now?” Shelby whispers to her after watching the two of them all afternoon, but at least having the manners to wait until they’re alone to outright ask her.

“I think so,” Dot answers back, trying to play it cool, but probably coming off more uncharacteristically giddy than anything.

They haven’t had any official Talk about it, and she doubts they ever will, because that’s not really either of their styles, but Dot doesn’t need one to know how she feels, or how Fatin does, either.

“Well, I’ll be damned, Dottie, you got yourself a real firecracker,” Shelby beams at her, and her smile only falters a little when she follows it up with, “Your daddy’d be so happy for you.”

Her words are bittersweet, for more reasons than one, and Dot is suddenly filled with this strange fondness for her fellow Texan, who’s nothing like the girl she bordered that plane with two years ago, and even allows the other girl to pull her into a hug that’s probably more for Shelby’s benefit than hers.

Dot wishes she could repeat Shelby’s words back to her and have them be true, but instead, she settles for asking her how things are going up in Minnesota and reluctantly agreeing to go on a double date with her and Toni before they head back home at the end of the week.

 

 

“Everything okay in there?” Fatin questions when the two girls finally return to the party, moving over in the chair to make room for Dot to squeeze back in beside her.

She nods and pulls Fatin’s legs over her lap after she settles in, glancing up at the picture of her and her dad’s first rock concert that sits above the fireplace, before focusing entirely on Fatin.

“She just wanted to know if we were together.”

And?” she wonders with a teasing but curious smile, clearly trying to put Dot on the spot. “What did you tell her?”

But Fatin’s never been able to throw her off her game, and that’s not going to change now, just because they’re dating. “That I think so,” she shrugs.

“You think so?” the other girl gasps in faux surprise, not loud enough to draw everyone else’s attention to them, but just enough to be categorized as slightly obnoxious. “Dorothy, have I not made my intentions with you clear enough? Have I not already staked my claim?” Dot rolls her eyes and fights a smile, just like she always does around Fatin. “How many other ways are there for me to defile you?”

“Please shut up before I break up with you,” she complains, so obviously fondly, as she squeezes the jean clad thigh draped over her own and tries to glare at her.

Fatin drops the act and her face settles into something more adoring as she playfully presses the palm of her hand into Dot’s face to push her and her stink eye back a little. “As if you could find anyone else to put up with your mouth breathing.”

Rather than insult her back, Dot just blows a raspberry against her palm to get it out of her face, and even though Fatin absolutely hates the sound and feeling of it, it never fails to get an big laugh out of her.

“What’s so funny over there?” Rachel questions with a mouthful of cake when Fatin’s loud cackle interrupts everyone’s side conversations and finally draws the attention towards them.

“Nothing,” Dot answers with an innocent smile, subtly trying to squirm away from the retaliatory knuckle being dug into her ribs.

“Inside joke,” Fatin elaborates when everyone’s eyes stay on them.

“I thought you hated those.”

Fatin scoffs, not at all fazed at being a hypocrite. “Martha, darling, trust me,” she starts, addressing the girl in front of her but looking at the girl whose lap she’s pretty much sitting on at this point. “They’re a lot more fun when you’re in on them.”

It’s a little mushy for them, admittedly, at least in front of all their friends, but it’s her birthday, so Dot will let it slide.

“Ugh,” Toni groans at their display, leaning into the pink haired girl pressed against her side. “Are we that annoying?”

“Yes,” everyone else in the room swiftly and emphatically answers for Shelby, but Fatin and Dot are too busy making out like their plane is going down to add their voices to the choir.

 

 

*

 

 

Dot’s never had a girlfriend before.

But that position has now been filled by her beautiful, ridiculous, funny best friend, who’s more likely to show her affection by calling her fucking weirdo than babe, so there really is a first time for everything.