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we survived- and now we get to fly

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anne has never kissed anyone before, but she’s always admired the idea. 

 

she remembers sitting in front of her tv, watching her mushy gushy romcoms, and rooting so viciously for the girl to finally win and get her kiss from her crush. she never once rooted for the boy - she couldn’t care less about him - but the girl had to win, she had to be happy and be kissed, and really, doesn’t every teenager want to watch the girl kiss her crush? 

 

apparently not, she realizes later, when jeremy from sixth grade english asked to kiss her and just the thought sent violent waves of nausea through her entire body. 

 

so maybe anne doesn’t want to kiss boys. maybe she’s not even interested in them. that doesn’t mean she still doesn’t long to know what it feels like to press her lips so gently to someone else’s, to hold them against her and feel the world melt away and time stop just so that they can be together. it happens in her romcoms, so surely it will happen to her. right? 

 

as she grows up, though, the idea becomes slightly less idealized in her head. she goes to amphibia, and everything is so different here, sticky and gross in ways she’d never imagined, and suddenly the thought of wanting someone she could kiss feels far away, like it was left behind on earth. 

 

it’s still somewhere far away, but as she sits on her bed, hands brushing over her cheeks, she can’t help but think of her romcoms, and how badly she’s still yearning for someone she can hold. 

 

“stay still,” sasha instructs, and she’s perched in between anne’s legs, straddling her waist, an array of powders and makeup palettes strewn on the bed beside them. “i’ve already messed up twice, and at this rate, we’re gonna be late.” 

 

“being late is, like, cool in high school, though.” anne points out, but she clutches the blankets under her hands tighter, using them as a leverage to keep herself from moving. “you didn’t take this long on marcy, and marcy’s like, ten times more fidgety than i am.” 

 

“that’s because marcy knows how to do the basics of her own makeup, and i didn’t have to do much for her.” sasha waves her brush in the air, fixing anne with a deadpan look. “now close your eyes, and sit still. if i have to redo your eyeliner one more time, i swear to frog-” 

 

anne glances pathetically at marcy for help, but her friend isn’t even looking, she’s just tapping away at her phone, sprawled haphazardly in her wheelchair. they had debated for awhile about if she should bring it to the dance, but ultimately, the rainy weather and promise of physical strain had led to her agreeing that it might be necessary.  

 

her eyes close. marcy won’t be of any help, she never had been when it came to wearing makeup and doing makeovers and everything else. in fact, she had always encouraged sasha’s antics. still does, to be honest. as much as anne dislikes the feeling of something foreign on her eyelids, though, she can’t help but shiver as sasha’s hands tilt her face upwards, brushing against her cheeks and eyes with a gentleness she hardly exhibited anywhere else. 

 

sasha is close enough to kiss, she realizes with a belated sense of awe. sasha is close enough to kiss, and there’s a part of anne that doesn’t feel that same sense of disgust she had felt all those years ago when jeremy had asked for one. sasha is close enough to kiss, and there’s a part of anne that wants her to lean in and close the distance between them. 

 

her feelings towards her two best friends have been understandably complicated since amphibia, but that was years ago, it had been years, and with the years came an understanding that they would always be together, friend or enemy or something more. they would always be connected, anne can’t imagine a world where she wasn’t part of a trio, where she didn’t have sasha and marcy by her side. not since she had almost lost them. 

 

so maybe it’s not so strange, the realization that she wants them in more than what they are now. she swallows nervously as sasha’s thumb brushes far too close to her lips for comfort, and she thinks she can feel sasha’s breath against her face with how close they are. 

 

“anne?” sasha whispers, soft and quietly hesitant. “i’m done now, you can open your eyes.” 

 

anne opens her eyes. 

 

sasha is right there, staring at her, so close that their breathing intermingles and anne can feel her warmth and see, so clearly, the speckles of blue and green in sasha’s warm brown eyes. blonde hair falls in front of them, and anne reaches out without thinking to brush the locks out of sasha’s face, tucking it behind her ear. 

 

“can i…” sasha trails off, and her cheeks flush red, “nevermind. you’re done now. wanna go look?” 

 

“kiss me.” 

 

it slips out so easily, like anne hadn’t been agonizing over this, and really, is she all that surprised? romance has always been her thing. she remembers sitting and watching her mushy gushy romcoms and wanting something like what she’s watching on screen for herself so badly she could scarcely breathe through the intense yearning. so she’d never wanted a boy– doesn’t this make more sense instead? what use does she have of a boy when he will never be sasha? will never be marcy? 

 

sasha blinks, and her eyes are wide and shocked, the color in her cheeks growing to cover her ears as well, and has she always blushed with her ears? anne has never noticed that before, it’s endearingly cute, anne’s gonna have to pay more attention- 

 

“-are you sure?” sasha’s hand trails against anne’s chin, cupping her cheek so softly. “anne, do you-” want this? she doesn’t finish the sentence, but anne has spent enough time around her, around them both, to hear it finished in her head. do you want me? how can you want me? 

 

anne doesn’t answer out loud. she doesn’t need to. words have never been the strongest suit between the three of them; actions have always spoken louder. instead, she just surges upwards, meets sasha halfway. 

 

sasha’s lips are just as warm as anne always pictured her first kiss to be. it’s a strange feeling, the tingling warmth, but it’s not bad, doesn’t fill her with that all-encompassing nausea. instead, butterflies form in her stomach, happy ones, ones that signify that finally, something in anne’s life is going right. 

 

sasha makes a muffled noise of surprise, but then she’s kissing back, and her free hand curls around anne’s head, digging into her curls with a tenderness that surprises anne more than anything. anne lifts one of her hands to curl around sasha’s shoulders, holding her there, clutching to the fabric of her custom-made suit that she had tailored for this dance specifically. 

 

this proves to be a mistake, though, because her arms are shaky; balancing on two had been difficult enough, so she can only keep herself upright for a few seconds on one before she’s toppling backwards, sasha falling down with her. 

 

sasha’s knees practically pin anne to the bed now, and breaks the kiss to just look at her, eyes big and fond and full of an emotion anne can’t quite name. “you’re so gorgeous,” she whispers. and then, smugly, “i did such a good job.” 

 

anne can’t help the exasperated laugh that escapes her, and she reaches for sasha’s hair, tangling fingers into the blonde locks. “i hate you so much,” she complains, but it’s half-hearted and hardly anything of substance when they were just kissing. 

 

“mhm, i know you do,” sasha teases, and she leans back in, capturing anne’s lips again. anne’s lipstick is definitely ruined by now, but she can’t find it in her to mind, just sinks into the warmth, the faint taste of sasha’s chapstick - peaches and cream, her favorite - lingering in the kiss. it’s perfect, it’s everything anne had ever wanted for herself. she never wants this to end. 

 

“...are you guys kissing? without me?” 

 

sasha jerks upright, and anne follows her gaze over to marcy, who is finally looking up from her phone with the biggest pout they have ever seen on her. her eyes are comically wide, the makeup only exaggerating the look. 

 

“it was kinda a spur of the moment thing,” anne apologizes, her cheeks flushing. she gingerly sits up as soon as sasha isn’t directly on top of her anymore, smoothing the folds of her dress down. “sorry, marbles.” 

 

marcy sniffs. 

 

“aw, don’t look like that marshmallow, there’s plenty for you too,” sasha coos. she presses one more kiss to anne’s temple - and that definitely left a lipstick stain, anne’s gonna have to redo her makeup again - before sliding off the bed, feet pattering across the floor as she reaches the place where marcy is sitting in her wheelchair. 

 

anne sits upright on the bed, and she’s still tingling from the warmth, still feels the butterflies in her stomach. the thought of sasha kissing marcy - because sasha is kissing marcy, peppering her face in kisses in fact, anne can hear marcy’s high-pitched giggles from here - doesn’t bother her in the slightest. she relishes in it, in fact– the idea that her friends are close enough without her, that they love each other just as much as she loves them… it makes her smile. 

 

“okay, anne’s turn!” anne snaps back to attention just in time to watch sasha scoop marcy out of her wheelchair. marcy’s giggling turns into a shriek of laughter, and her eyes are sparkling, and so are sasha’s, and they just look so happy. anne has only ever wanted them to be happy. 

 

anne holds out her arms, and sasha deposits marcy right into her lap, taking a seat next to them with humor in her eyes. 

 

“hi there,” marcy whispers, sounding suddenly shy. 

 

“hello,” anne whispers back, lifting a hand to gently brush back hair from her face just like she had with sasha earlier. “can i kiss you?” 

 

marcy makes some sort of strangled sound in the back of her throat, but she nods, her arms curling around anne’s neck. 

 

it’s easy, then, so easy, to lean down and press her lips gently against marcy’s own. anne inhales, hand flying to the back of marcy’s head to hold her in place and tangle into her hair, the warmth building in her once again. 

 

this feels right, she thinks, as marcy curls into her chest, clutching her closer, sasha sitting at her side. the dance is the last thing they’re worried about now, and anne doesn’t know why she was so worried about it in the first place, not when she has her girls at her side. 

 

when she pulls away, marcy is blushing too, staring up at anne like she’s some sort of goddess, adoring and warm. she’s adorable, and everything anne has ever wanted for herself. finally, anne thinks; she has someone she can hold. 

 

“don’t forget about me,” sasha jokes. she wraps an arm around anne’s shoulders, bending down at what must be an extremely awkward angle to press a chaste kiss against anne’s lips, and then marcy’s, right after another.

 

two someones, anne amends in her head, grinning like a maniac. i have two someones. 

 

“we’re so gonna be late,” marcy breathes, but she doesn’t make any move to get off of anne’s lap. 

 

“eh, who cares?” anne shrugs. “there will be more dances.” 

 

“so i spent all that time doing your makeup for nothing?” sasha groans, but she just sounds fond, too fond for any actual malice to shine through. 

 

“you can do it again later,” anne snickers, and she shifts marcy in her lap a little so that sasha fits in just a bit easier. marcy helps, reaching out for sasha with one hand wrapped around anne’s shoulders and one hand making a little grabby motion. 

 

they still haven’t talked about it, wanting to kiss each other. do they need to? anne can’t imagine a world where she doesn’t have marcy in her lap and sasha at her side. she doesn’t think they can, either. there is no word that can encompass that feeling, how close they’ve gotten, how desperately anne wants them. 

 

none of her romcoms could’ve predicted this. anne wouldn’t have it any other way.