#one day it will be marcys pov and yall will See

[kaseyskat]

what’s this? MORE marcanne fluff? more likely than you think. this is inspired by @kara-melys and her wonderfully endearing art of anne with a letterman and then marcy wearing said letterman, i couldn’t get it out of my head ahaha. enjoy! 

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“Mar-Mar, you’re not wearing a jacket?” 

It’s a cloudy November day, which means the weather is bleary and overcast, the wind sharp and biting, and everyone’s in jackets and pants. Everyone, that is, except for one Marcy Wu, who shivers even during the summer, and is hardly ever seen in her regular school uniform. 

It’s strange, seeing her in short sleeves. Anne frowns, trying to think back on a time she’s seen it before - other than during sleepovers - and failing. 

“I couldn’t find it in time, I was running a bit late,” Marcy says, staring resolutely down at her switch even as she continues to shiver and tremble. The cafeteria’s never had the best AC, and with the outside doors propped open, the wind chills the room immensely. 

“It’s literally forty degrees outside, dude, are you crazy?” Anne glances up at Sasha, who’s absent-mindedly playing on her phone, not paying even the slightest attention to them. “Even I’m wearing a jacket!” 

It’s true; she’s wearing her brand new letterman, complete with her name engraved on the back in elegant letters, a giant tennis racket underneath. Lettering in tennis is difficult to achieve in the world of baseball and football, but she’s done pretty well for herself, even managing to go all the way to State last year. She’s gonna place at State this year, she just knows it. Either way, making it to State earned her a letterman, and now that it’s finally chilly enough to wear it, Anne can’t stop toting it around proudly on her shoulders, the leather keeping her nice and snug and warm. 

Marcy just shrugs, though, and she curls her knees into her chest, wrapping her arms around them even as she continues to play… whatever new game she’s super obsessed with now. “It’s okay, really. I’ll survive!” 

Anne glances at Sasha again, pointedly. Sasha always brings a spare jacket to school, in case she gets in trouble for the jean one that she sports on the regular; though it’s never actually happened, her parents far too influential to risk angering. However, Sasha still isn’t really paying attention, and when she does finally look up, all she does is give Anne a very deadpan stare. 

Anne never should’ve told her about her massive, no good, very bad crush. She knew she’d regret it. 

“Marbles,” she starts, hesitates, and then commits. “Uh. Here.” For a moment, she savors in the warmth of her jacket - her nice, cozy letterman jacket, with her name on it - before sliding it off her shoulders. 

Marcy doesn’t even glance up, staring rather pointedly down at the screen of her switch. There’s goosebumps lining her arms, and Anne sighs, a fond smile on her lips. 

She wraps the jacket around Marcy’s shoulders, nudging at her arms. “Come on, stop playing for a sec.” 

“Huh?” Marcy glances up, finally, and then flushes a bright red as Anne hovers over her, stretching the jacket so that the sleeves engulf her arms. “Anne! You don’t-” 

“-shush. Yes I do. You’ll clearly freeze to death otherwise.” Anne manages to get her arms through the sleeves of the jacket, and she steps back to examine her handiwork proudly. Her own arms twinge with the loss of heat, but it’s nothing she can’t handle, and nothing she wouldn’t suffer for her beloved Marcy. 

Marcy curls the jacket towards her, and for a moment, she looks so small there, with Anne’s name on her back, the sleeves just slightly-too-big for her, the body of the jacket dragging on the cafeteria seat. Her cheeks are still a bright red, and her switch drops to the table, forgotten. 

“It’s really comfy,” she admits, as Anne’s heart beats frantically in her chest, her own cheeks heating up. “T-thanks, Anne. I’ll give this back to you tomorrow?” 

You can keep it, Anne wants to say, but that’s far too forward, isn’t it? Surely it is. “Yeah, just don’t forget your jacket again, okay?” Acting on impulse, she ducks forward, resting her head on top of Marcy’s own to wrap arms around her neck in a vague imitation of a hug. She tilts her head forwards, resting her nose against the top of Marcy’s head, buried in her hair, and presses a kiss into the dark locks. It’s impulsive, and it’s not like Marcy will know, but the act sends shivers down Anne’s spine. 

Marcy squeaks, but she hugs back, squeezing Anne’s arms to her chest. 

“You two will be the death of me,” Sasha mutters, but when Anne glances back up at her, she’s smiling