#is also sort of funny because it’s not like it implied he abandoned tommy or whatever

[seddair]

,

[nevospitanniy]

Rambly Teen Wolf/Big Wolf On Campus meta

Preface this by saying I didn’t expect to actually get into TW. This show kicked me in the teeth, balls and every organ I do and do not possess. If I’m going to be any degree of helpful, I need some structure up in here. Fair warning, it’s just like my opinion man.

1. Characters

Tommy is Scott. A werewolf with a heart of gold that cares deeply about people around him. It’s explored much more in depth with TW, duh - they had more seasons, more money and a higher age rating, using more drama and angst. But the outline is definitely there: they are both introduced to the fantastic world of lycanthropy by their extremely knowledgeable and helpful buddies (Merton/Stiles respectively), can be shitty to their best friends (Tommy throwing Merton under the bus to save his popularity/Scott abandoning Stiles for Allison multiple times), take on the role of the designated savior of the town from supernatural threats, prefer non-lethal methods, are Alphas (Tommy’s status could be contested, I guess, but the show never put an actual emphasis on pack dynamics, probably they thought it was too odd of a concept to start explaining because then you have to get to the whole omega part and that is c o m p l i c a t e d), fight organized evil!werewolves, had two main love interests, none of which held up (yeah, weaksauce, but I thought I’d still put it out there), kinda subpar in academics but good athletes. Scott gets so much more actual character development it’s not even funny, while Tommy just sort of meanders in what he has and gets dumbed down a lot for seasons 2/3.

Merton is Stiles, no shit. A nerd best friend, a friend in need more importantly, a loyal (mostly) spastic (very) companion. Dynamic between sciles and tommerton (platonically) is quite different because of how their backstories differ - after all, Scott and Stiles have known each other since forever, while Tommy pays attention to Merton only after being bitten, when they become friends almost out of necessity. But there is no denying that all four of them, in their respective duos, are joined at the hip, oftentimes with an inclusion of a girl to break up their awesome bromance (Allison/Lori and Stacy). Merton/Stiles go unappreciated for their efforts a lot, especially if you consider they are human and yet get into the same exact shit as fast and durable werewolves, surviving by wits, last ditch effort loyalty change (Merton) or a fear override (Stiles) and saving the day half of the time because they actually do research. Both seem to have a penchant for magic (unsubtly implied but never expanded upon for Stiles), both are comedic reliefs, even if in slightly different ways as commanded by the genre, both are excellent students, both are mostly unsuccessful with women and ambiguously bi/pan/omni, if you consider the technically non-human options. Complicated family relationships. Both have abandonment/commitment issues, both room (jury is still out there for sciles because of 6b) with their best friends in college. As for notable differences, Stiles undergoes a massive character transformation, a monumental shift, I’d say - not exactly doing a 180, but inching closer than any other character to actual plot relevant growth, and not for better, which is a rarity. Merton’s personality also changes for the worse, but it’s a result of clumsy writing and forced female presence in the shows plot as a romantic crutch. It would be interesting if fan meta on Merton’s less ehh flattering moments was expanded upon and explained in the series; what I wouldn’t give for an actual quality heart to heart between Tommy and Merton Ike every show nowadays seems to have in abundance, where they call each other out on their issues.

Women are more complicated. There are no exact parallels, barring the very basic archetypes, which would do no justice to any of the four, namely Allison and Lydia for TW and Lori and Stacy for BWOC. But yes, Allison is close to Lori - a fighter, someone who can take it and dish it out. Problem with Lydia/Stacy comparison is that it breaks down as soon as Lydia gets a sliver of character development, because at first, her queen bee status definitely resonated with Stacy, but while she was put on a bus without any real involvement in the show’s plot, Lydia becomes downright plot essential.

2. Writing

BWOC had an incredible season 1, with select episodes of season 2 being very good and, well, we don’t talk about season 3. Point being, even with the constraints of a cheap Canadian show for kids it managed some genuine brilliance, I’m sure in a big way thanks to the chemistry between cast members (specifically the two of consequence). Monster Of The Week format certainly seemed to work well for them, and I will forever mourn the loss of all the potential arcs and plot twists that never saw the light of day. TW had the privilege of, despite a mediocre display in season 1, becoming popular enough to spawn 5 more seasons, and I think they definitely had very strong moments, most of them carried on the back of Dylan O'Brien, like void!Stiles, relationship between him and his dad, and yes, his relationship with Derek, which turned out to be largely inconsequential to the plot (writers queerbaited the f u c k out of its audience and then just did nothing of worth with the pairing, BUT THATS HARDLY RELEVANT). I don’t know whether Peter Knight is just that good or the innocent nature of BWOC lends itself to less complicated plots and finished stories, but most BW episodes were microcosms, closed systems that had little bearing on any overarching storylines. They provided closure, well-defined villains and good guys, which is a very appealing quality, if a touch simplistic. I admit, I would’ve liked to see something with more “depth” and conflict, but the restrictions of the channel/network/rating are nothing to sneeze at. TW on the other hand ties almost every episode into another, weaving a continuous storyline. Personally, I think they should’ve done more one off episodes to break up the monotony of waiting for action set pieces. You need some hella witty dialogue to keep people watching while fuck all is happening and they sort of failed at that (again, Stiles carried most of the comedy). Almost everyone in BWOC is uniquely likable; TW has a much bigger cast so they definitely had ups and down as far as character writing was concerned.

Main problem with this whole disjointed comparison is how you can’t compare things that aren’t on the same level. It’s not a dig at quality or anything, but TW had 6 seasons and a huge budget, while BW barely got 3. TW and BWOC kinda started in a similar vein, but boy do they differ. That being said, I have an inkling that BW may have ended up looking a lot like TW in different circumstances - if it was made at a later date, on another channel, with a different rating/audience in mind. But then again, a lot of good things BW is liked for are a direct result of these aforementioned “hurdles” - all the double entendres would never fly for a tv-14 rated show, its generally cheerful and uplifting tone was probably required by the network and being a child of the 90s it carried a lot of charm that would be borderline impossible to fabricate now if they wanted to keep the ~aesthetic. So I can only compare real TW with hypothetical BWOC that got a bigger budget and more screentime. But doing that makes NO SENSE, so imma just finish with some general thoughts about the direction show might’ve gone.

I genuinely think that in different circumstances, Merton could’ve had a wonderfully dark character development. He’s a non-violent character, but does have this morbid curiosity that could’ve put him eventually in a position to cause grievous bodily harm to someone. He seems to get off on power play (both having power over someone and surrendering it), and that’s a slippery slope for an emotionally tender and damaged character. Tommy is his rock in a number of ways, his human connection outlet, a more teen oriented show would, of course, use his ‘scars’ to carry the narrative of overcoming tragedy. Merton does the same for Tommy, being his emotional support, because how liberating it must be to not hide his werewolf side and he could do it literally with 1 (one) person before Lori came into focus. Queerbait aside, their relationship was great, a deep involved friendship, and with Tommy being so resistant to evilness and Merton being so easily corruptible, they could’ve played off this contrast in a way more interesting than what we saw in s3.  

I also would’ve loved to see some female characters that aren’t barely two-dimensional; Stacy was, in one word, confused - we know very little of her actual personality, aside from her feminism rhetoric and an allergy to committed relationships. Lori was ‘the action girl’, and she got a slightly bigger piece of pie, but still not nearly enough. Fuck, I don’t even know if the show passes a Bechdel test. TW showed us actual fleshed out female friendships that weren’t toxic or competitive, would’ve been nice to see something of the sort in BWOC.

[itsclydebitches]

Title: Trial by Fire

Summary: Tulip and Emily are so disgusted with Jesse and Cass that they decide, entirely through logic, that they should set them up. After all, now the fools can torment each other, right? 

Emily and Tulip finally getting close is just an added bonus.

Fandom: Preacher

Words: 3,756

Warnings: None 

Pairings: Jess/Cass, Tulip/Emily, implied Jesse/Cass/Tulip/Emily

Where to Read it: Below the cut or on AO3 (AO3 recommended for formatting)

Trial by fire

Tulip believed firmly that the strongest friendships were forged in fire. No, not just facing the flames together—setting each other ablaze. If you hurt someone, betrayed them, kicked them when they were down and they still reached up a hand in trust to you... that was someone worth keeping. Probably wasn’t the healthiest way of viewing things—sure as hell wasn’t the nicest—but it was a goddamn truth she’d learned hard and fast over the course of her life and it had held true. Everyone who’d ever given Tulip a sunny smile had left as quick as it took for it to sour. Everyone she’d bared her teeth at and who’d bit her in turn? They’d stayed. They’d been worth investing in.

10:53 Tuesday morning and the number of investments Tulip had was exactly two: Jesse Fucking Custer, asshole extraordinaire, and Cassidy of first name unknown, professional monster—whose title had absolutely nothing to do with his bloodsucking nature. Tulip loved her boys. Never doubt that, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t on the lookout for something more.

And she found more, in the sunny living room of her piss-poor neighbor.

“Stay away from my boyfriend!”      

Tulip hurled the words even harder than whatever projectile she’d scooped up into her hands, dimly aware of it smashing against the far wall. They were rage-filled and a little fragile, because Tulip didn’t know where any of them stood anymore. She and Jesse had yet to recreate what they’d had outside of Annville. Tulip didn’t know what she had with Cass. What Cass and Jesse had with each other? Ha! That was a whole mess of shit that she’d stepped in. God help her poor shoes.

And then here was Emily, encroaching on it all.

Tulip might have been a firecracker, a pistol, and goddamn fuckin c*unt and so many other things, but even she balked at getting violent with pretty little Emily, soft-spoken and oh so polite. It was coming too, Tulip could feel it building in her bones and smashing some stupid art project did shit all to alleviate the itch. She had to leave then. Quickly. Tulip pushed past Emily’s shell-shocked expression before she started throwing punches at it.

It was a little better out in the car. Tulip let the heat and claustrophobia press down on her anger some, containing it. She had everything under control. Yes siree. Fucking peachy.

Which means she assuredly did not jump when Emily came banging on the window.

Tulip stared. Her mouth was catching flies and her eyebrows crawled up into her hair because goddamn, who would have guessed it? Sunny Emily Woodrow—renowned for her pies, charity, and a history of letting people walk all over her—was cussing Tulip out just fine and fair. It was in that moment, leaning away from the window because Jesus Christ Emily was leaning in, that Tulip remember that the girl had grown up in Annville, just like she had. Mousiness aside, she was a Texan, and Tulip would have done well to remember that.

Emily was reminding her now.

��You broke my kid’s art thing,” she hissed, shaking the bits of pottery in Tulip’s face. It really should have been funny, but Tulip wasn’t laughing just yet. That ‘art thing’ was a treasure now. The shards’ edges sharper than any knife. Emily’s fury wasn’t something to piss on so Tulip nodded, holding up her hands like so many arrests and eased her way carefully out of the car.

“Alright,” she said. The sun was beating down hard on her head. “Don’t throw a fit about It, ‘Em. I can fix the stupid thing. Just gimme a chance.”

A calculated risk, but Tulip was nearly as good with words as she was her fists: the quick agreement, tempered by a an implication that Emily was overreacting, that Tulip wouldn’t take all of this shit lying down; slipping in a personal nickname; the blunt request for a second chance, obvious to anyone with half a brain... and Emily had a whole noggin to work with. Tulip was only half surprised when she lowered the shards and gave a clipped nod in response.

Her sensible flip-flops smack-smack-smacked on the way back inside.

There were lots of names for Tulip O’hare, but not one of them was ‘liar.’ Not to those she’d weathered fire with. So Tulip sat her butt down at that pretty, yellow table and set to mending things with patience and a bit of cheap glue. Emily watched her for the first ten minutes, looking about as thrown as Tulip felt. When she couldn’t take the judgment anymore Tulip flapped a hand in her general direction and told her to sit.

Emily stared. Her shoulders jerked a little. “It’s my house.”

“All the more reason.”

Tulip had her eyes firmly on a particularly messy chunk of clay (the hell was that anyway? The nose? A hoof?), but she watched from the corner of her eye as Emily turned on her heel and walked stiffly to the kitchen. Tulip mentally shrugged. Okay. Let her play it that way. It wasn’t as if she actually gave a damn.

Except that just a few minutes later Emily came back out, this time bearing a tray laden with a pitcher of lemonade, two glasses, and a box of Girl Scout Thin Mints. There was even a little doily beneath the offering, all fancy like. Tulip abandoned her work to watch Emily pour herself a glass and down it back like a shot.

“You make that fresh?” Tulip asked, pointing to the lemonade.

Emily came back up with a gasp. “Of course.”

“Jesus you’re a messed up lady.”

Which was true enough she supposed. Though of course, Tulip was messed up too.

She snagged a glass of her own and got back to work.

***

Somehow, they got talking.

Emily asked her with forced casualness where she’d learned to do this. Tulip responded cuttingly that ‘this’ was just shoving chunks of shit together and slathering on some glue—didn’t they teach you this kiddy stuff in school? Her tone somehow didn’t get her kicked out of the house and so Tulip pulled her weight, asking next what the ever loving fuck this was supposed to be. Emily said a bear, though Tommy had always been awful at crafts, huh? It startled a laugh out of Tulip that filled up the room.

The heat sent them through the pitcher of lemonade faster than normal, resulting in Tulip asking with gritted teeth where the bathroom was located. She got an embarrassed wave of a hand in response. So she bypassed toys on the floor and more awful art on the walls, sneaking into the powder room (who called it a powder room?) like she was still an intruder instead of a guest—which Tulip kind of thought might be the case. There was smelly potpourri in a dish and a ‘Home Sweet Home’ plaque on the inside of the door, cheesy enough that Tulip considered vomiting when she was done. Instead she snooped through the small medicine cabinet.

There were bottles of Xanax and Lorazepam. Neither looked like they came with prescriptions.

Tulip pursed her lips. She marched out, grabbed the empty pitcher, and made a beeline for the kitchen. She threw Emily a rude gesture when she implied that Tulip couldn’t make fucking lemonade.

As if.

“I think that goes there,” Emily said, pointing to a piece that was obviously the snout and not the tail. “Also this is watery.” She sipped at the glass with lazy disdain.

“Yours had too much sugar.” Tulip smacked the bit of clay against the rest of the bear’s face. It would fit.

“I need the energy. That doesn’t fit.”

“It does. And my waistline don’t need all that.”

“You’re fucking gorgeous.”

Well that line caught Tulip’s attention. Not because of the compliment, or even the offhanded manner Emily delivered it with—a tone that was entirely genuine. Rather it was the curse word snuck in the middle. She’d heard the girl cuss before, but it was always carefully under her breath, kept close to her chest lest it actually escape out into the world where it belonged. It hit Tulip for the second time that day. Annville. Slumped in a rickety chair, drinking lemonade like booze, raising compliments with curses. That was Annville.

“Yeah. Guess I am.” Tulip turned the piece and connected the tail. Emily smirked. “Jesse always thought so anyhow.”

She saw Emily freeze. Saw her deliberately relax too. The Thin Mints had melted onto the doily and she flicked at the chocolate with her nail.

“Jesse has good taste,” Emily said. It came out like a sigh.

“Jesse settles.”

“Hardly. He could have anyone.”

“Yeah, but there ain’t much to choose from in this town, is there? Except you.”

Emily rolled a mouthful of drink between her cheeks. “Am I a choice?” She suddenly grinned, more wicked than sad, and Tulip felt her heart speeding up like they’d started a race. “I’m not exactly the greatest catch. Got an iffy ex, after all.”

“You think I don’t?”

“...a side-piece too.”

Hearing Emily say ‘side-piece’ was easily the highlight of Tulip’s week. She sat back with a grin. “No. Who?”

“The mayor.”

“The mayor? Oh hell fucking no.”

Emily shrugged. “He’s... there."

“Mmm.” Tulip nodded, considering. “Suppose I’m the same. My piece is the ratty drifter who just came through.”

“Cassidy?”

“The same."

"...oh. He asked me for drugs the other day."

Emily said it so straight-face and confused that Tulip inhaled that last gulp of lemonade, choking and spraying a fine mist all over her table. When she finally got some air down her windpipe she started laughing and Emily, astoundingly laughed with her.

"Fucking hell." Tulip wiped spit from her chin. "Yeah. That sounds like Cassidy."

Emily's face twisted. "That sounds like all the men in my life. Your life too. Even Jesse."

It felt like some sort of strange, tentative peace. Tulip only hesitated a moment before agreeing: "Jesse is trash."

"Awful."

"The fucking worst."

The two women paused, making eye contact for the first time in an hour. In that moment they were both aware of the fact that they each wanted Jesse Custer, that neither of them truly had him... and the most important thing: that he wasn't fucking worth this. 'This' being smashed art projects and hearts and the fact that it had taken them this long to maybe, sort of, unexpectedly enjoy one another's company. It was a revelation—hot and scarring like flames.

"You know..." Tulip traced her finger slowly around the edge of her cup. "I've got it on good authority that Cass has a thing for Jesse."

Emily's eyebrows jumped. "What authority is that?"

"The freaking dent in his pants whenever he passes by."

Emily laughed, leaning into the table. "That's fascinating, considering I think Jesse kinda likes Cass too."

"Oh?" Tulip very deliberately kept her voice light. She could feel Emily doing the same.

"They're very... cozy, after church."

"Hmm."

They were each thinking along similar lines, though what those lines were exactly remained muddled. It was something though, like possibility. Concepts that moved past the boring man-and-wife mentality of the town. The desire to simultaneously hurt these men and give them everything they'd ever wanted. They were thoughts of sharing, thoughts that never would have been possible if Emily hadn't shared first. Breaking bread, so to speak.

Tulip took another glass of lemonade. A cookie too. She stared out over the table and into the kitchen. "Want to get those two fools together?”

She couldn't seem Emily's expression. Tulip caught the slight intake of breath though.

"What if it doesn't work?" She finally asked. "Jesse's... the preacher. What if it ruins him?"

Tulip grinned. "Even better."

"...what if it doesn't?"

"Then that's something I think we can work with."

Emily sighed. It wasn't one of defeat though—more the exhale that came before a woman began her work.

"More entertaining than Miles," she muttered.

Emily lifted her glass for a toast and Tulip happily complied. They left the rest of the art project behind and stepped out of the house together.

It was a scorcher of a day.

***

Cass was having one hell of a weird day.

Weirder than normal—and considering this was the town with an All-Powerful preacher, immortal government officials, and a fucking racist 'Indian' dude always loitering outside the bar, that was saying something. And okay, maybe that last fucker wasn't uncommon, but he was still weird.

Cass extended a finger and suspiciously poked one of the cookies, gorgeous and gooey on a little blue plate. It indented a bit at his touch because good god, they were still warm.

"These are for me?" he clarified because that right there was throwing Cass' world into a confused orbit. Emily just blinked innocently and pushed the plate a little closer to his chest.

"Yes." She shook her head. "Honestly would you just take them already? I'm exhausted."

Cass quickly snatched the plate and Emily drooped like a marionette on cut strings. She wiped real sweat from her brow.

"Exhausted from... bakin' these?" he asked. Cass still held the plate like it was crawling with spiders or some such. Even though he could still feel how warm the treats were. They were piled in a perfect little pyramid that emitted curls of steam, floating up towards the sky. Like holy hell and what the fuck, who managed actual fresh-out-of-the-oven cookies?

"I did," Emily said slowly and Cass came back to himself, feeling a little like he should be down on his knees. "But I wasn't really intending to. I mean, I was fine with my Thin Mints, I normally only bake on Saturdays before the church potluck." She pursed her lips, considering. "Someone asked me to this morning though, as a favor. I mean, I've got so much to do, but I couldn't say no to such a cute request."

Cass stared. "A cute...? You've lost me, luv."

"Really, Cassidy. Someone asked me to bake you cookies. It's all rather sweet. Looks like you've got yourself a secret admirer, but I'm not saying who."

Weird indeed. Eerie too. Cass had resigned himself to seeing some strange sights in this here town, but Emily Uptight Woodrow giving him a saucy wink? Walking her fingers up his chest and snatching one of the cookies? Cass felt like someone had pulled the proverbial rug out from under him—and the floor was a fucking lava pit with lava crocs come to snap him up. He was sure his already pasty ass looked like it was going to faint.

"Uh huh," he managed.

Emily did eventually leave and what passed for Cass' brain did, in time, start firing again. When it did the useless slab of meat told him exactly two things:

He still had a massive plate of vaguely warm cookies to devour.

There was only one person in Annville who could maybe, possibly, even hypothetically be this so-called "secret admirer."

Cass sat down, right there in the dirt by the side of the road, under the safety of a nearby tree. The occasional car drove past and gave him the confused, dirty looks that could only be achieved by those small-towners spotting someone who Didn't Belong. Cass waved them all off with a smile. He felt light and bubbly in the heat, smashing cookies into his mouth so that the chocolate ran down his chin.

He was a (literal) bloodthirsty animal. He killed without thought and often enjoyed it. He was also, irrevocably, a romantic.

"Jesse Custer," Cass said, shaking his head. He wiped crumbs and chocolate on the edge of his shirt. "You big old softie bastard."

***

Tulip was fixing the air conditioner.

She was, in fact, fixing it fast, pulling out every bit of knowledge that her uncle had ever dropped (few and far between; between the increasingly common periods of drunkenness, that is) and relying on a Youtube video for the rest. There was shit all service in the church, damn thing could only be reached by balancing on the couch, and Tulip could feel a whole mess of drippings rolling down her wrist and dropping onto her jeans. At least maybe that meant the stupid thing would finally work.

Lo and behold, it did. Just in time too. Jesse clomped his way to the back of the church, hollering Tulip's name.

"In here," she called, giving the ancient machine one last smack. It sputtered to life and Tulip had all of a millisecond to stuff her tools under the couch and spread out casually, one hand propped behind her head. It was a good look on her. She was quite the liar.

"Hey, Jesse," she said.

He didn't repay her the greeting. Asshole. Well, to be fair, he was a little distracted, staring as he was at the air conditioner like he'd finally, finallygotten to witness the miracle he'd always dreamed of. Tulip took a perverse sort of pleasure in watching his mouth unhinge—not exactly the most attractive look on Jesse. For the first time since this morning Tulip wondered if, when push came to shove, she'd have really been willing to beat Emily's head in over this here fool.

Jesse shut his mouth. The image was restored. Shit. Yeah, probably.

Hot damn.

"You fixed the air conditioner?" he asked. Tulip scoffed with full force—though she made sure not to overdo it.

"Me? Hell no. It was all fixed up when I got here." Tulip settled deep into the cushions, making it look like she'd been here a good long time, and raised a languid hand to pat the machine fondly. She hoped her light touch didn't set the thing choking again. "Someone obviously spent a lot of time on this, huh? Gotta think it was just for you. After all, rest of us aren’t spending much time back here. Now I can’t swear to it… but I’ve got a good guess as to who’d go through all the trouble…."

It wasn't a lie—Tulip certainly knew herself most of all—but the implication set Jesse's eyes alight.

"No," he said. It was slow with disbelief. Tulip had to bite hard on the inside of her lip to keep from grinning. Best that Jesse come to his own conclusions.

In fact, best that she not say anything at all. Tulip settled for shrugging against the pillow.

And Jesse nodded. There was a whole world encompassed in that nod, a considering, almost sweet (cloyingly, ugh) spark of hope. As she'd hoped he would, Jesse took in all the little details that Tulip had left for him: the now spotless and dust free exterior, the thin blue ribbons attached to the grill that fluttered prettily in the breeze.

You could say a whole lot with just an air conditioner.

Jesse still had his keys in one hand. He shook them, absently, before finally pointing them Tulip's way.

"Mind if I take off?"

"But you just got here." Tulip had to play with him, just a little.

"I won't be long, promise—"

And oh, how sad, Jesse was already out the door, the sound of his increasingly quick footfalls echoing off the church floorboards. Tulip sat up and cranked her neck, even though she couldn't see him. The front doors slammed shut at the exact moment the air conditioner gave out.

Tulip laughed like a gunshot. "Perfect timing," she said, giving it another slap. It was almost sad how easy that had been.

Now all they had to do was wait.

***

There was actually little waiting involved. Emily had stationed her car just to the side of the church, watching and waiting for Jesse to leave again. When he did—walking in the way that meant he really wanted to run—she came waltzing in, holding up her second plate of cookies in triumph. Tulip took another minute to re-fix the air conditioner and soon the two of them were shoulder to shoulder on the couch, halving gooey deliciousness and sighing at the breeze on the back of their necks.

"What now?" Tulip asked. She pulled apart a cookie until the strings of chocolate stretched thin.

Emily rolled her eyes. "I left Cass on the side of the road—the one damn road Annville has. Jesse will reach him in about, oh," she checked her watch. "Now. I suspect they'll start having sex in the flatbed of the truck soon enough.”

Tulip snorted. "Nah. Under the tree. Right there in the open. Cass needs the shade."

"What? Why?"

"...Just 'cause."

"Uh huh. Well, I hope they're happy together."

"Them? Never. You think they'll realize it’s a setup though?"

"Them? Never."

“Ha.”

There didn't seem to be anything else to say. Their topic of conversation—the only one they presumably had—was well and dry. Tulip held another cookie in her hand and ran her thumb along the heat. She thought of Thin Mints in Emily’s kitchen, and of fire.

Together they went through the little batch fast and soon there was another blue plate between them, this one bare but for a few remaining smears. Tulip was thinking hard, so hard, when Emily glanced up with a large piece of cookie dangling from her lips, realization that it was the last one spreading across her face.

"Oh," she mumbled. "Sorry—"

Tulip leaned forward, taking the rest of the cookie in her mouth, pushing gently until Emily swallowed to let their lips finally meet.

“Oh,” she said again.

Emily tasted of chocolate, obviously, but her skirt underneath Tulip's hand was softer than she would have imagined. It took her a hot, fuzzy moment to realize she was palming Emily's skin. They were similar then, Tulip could feel it: dainty things with hard interiors, capable of moving through whole waves of emotions in just a day. They were strong and furious. They were Annville girls.

Tulip wondered if Cass and Jesse were doing this exact same thing, some three miles out from. Probably. One might say, undoubtedly. The four of them were just synched that way.

"Screw 'em," Tulip murmured, smiling against Emily's lips. “Just…”

She trailed off because then Emily had pulled her closer, her hands spanning Tulip’s back with a touch that was both tender and bruising.

They left prints that smoked against Tulip’s shirt.

Trails of fire.