"What. The fuck," Keira groaned awake, shoulder screaming as she realized she'd been cuddling her spiked bat like it was a stuffed toy. "Brilliant. Hug your murder stick to sleep like a fucked-up five-year-old. No wonder your ribs feel like glass." She shifted, and sure enough - one of the spikes had broken skin. A slow bleed, nothing dramatic, but it stung like hell. "Tough bitch, downgraded to self-harm via snuggle-bat. Gold star, Keira."
She propped the bat against the wall with a grunt, giving it a little tap like she was scolding it. "No cuddles tonight, sweetheart. You're benched." Rolling her shoulders, she caught sight of the ugly bruise blooming there. "Perfect. Real badass vibes when your own weapon leaves love bites."
Padding into the living room, she had sarcasm chambered and ready - then froze.
Void was slumped sideways against the couch, her head tipped back a little. Her arm was curved protectively around Amy, who'd folded herself into her like a child tucking into warmth she thought she'd never find again. Amy's cheek rested just under Void's collarbone, her breath fogging the fabric of her shirt, her hands balled into small, stubborn fists against Void's chest like she was terrified to let go even in sleep. Void's chin had tilted down just enough that her magenta hair spilled across Amy's crown, tangling in the blonde-red streaks like threads woven into one piece.
The blanket draped across them had slipped halfway off, but neither seemed to care. Amy's legs were tucked tight, knees pulled up, a posture that usually screamed "don't touch me," except here it was softened - shielded by Void's formidable, yet delicate frame. Void's thumb had stilled just under Amy's shoulder, like even unconscious, her body knew to soothe.
On the armrest, Vector perched, regal and watchful, his tail curled neatly around his paws as if he were standing guard. His ears flicked once, and then he settled, eyes half-lidded but sharp, as if he'd decided the two of them were his flock and nothing would breach that perimeter on his watch.
Keira leaned on the doorframe, arms crossed. "Adorable. Absolutely fucking adorable. The world's edgiest netrunner and the world's saddest stray kitten, passed out like it's some cozy cottage ad." She clenched her jaw, trying not to smile. "Don't you fucking dare." She smiled anyway.
Retreat. Bathroom. Water splashed, teeth brushed, face scrubbed like she could peel the night off. The mirror didn't lie - dark circles, hair like roadkill, and a shoulder that looked like it lost a bar fight with a door knob. "Parent material? Please. This mug barely qualifies as girlfriend material on a good day."
Heading back, her eyes caught on the couch again. Void's grip hadn't loosened an inch, Amy still tucked against her like treasure. A weird, heavy warmth flickered in Keira's chest. "Void's already gone on her, isn't she? Fuck. 'You ever wonder where we'll be in five years?' Question answered. Congratulations, Keira - you're in a sitcom. Truman would be proud."
The fridge was mercifully not empty. Eggs, bread, bacon - basic survival kit. "Nothing gourmet, but it plugs holes. Scrambled eggs, toast, grease. If they bitch, they can file a grievance with the muscle."
She set the pan on the stove and leaned back while it heated. "Reminds me of the first night with Void. Same picture - her passed out like a corpse - except back then I was raiding a fridge graveyard and playing guerilla chef."
Bacon hit the pan with a sizzle. "She was so shit at taking care of herself. And now she wants to take care of a kid. Character development...?"
She flipped the strips, mouth twisting. "History repeats. Well. With the weirdest fucking twist I've ever seen. The third wheel cries herself to sleep in our living room. What an upgrade." The jab landed too sharp, and she knew it wasn't true. If Void gave a damn, then so did she, whether she liked it or not.
Egg cracked. Stirring lazily. Spatula clicking in rhythm with her thoughts. "Where the fuck would we even put her? No spare bedroom. Maybe clear out the workshop, dump the machines back in the garage."
The idea stuck too long. She shook her head hard. "Stop it. Don't start nesting. You don't even know the girl a full day and you're already redesigning floor plans. Pathetic."
Another egg. Stir, scrape, scrape. "Or throw a futon in the workshop. Park the grinders in the living room, call it an industrial art piece." The mental image made her snort despite herself. "Fuck. I'm actually speccing this like a job. Void would laugh her ass off."
Bacon crisped. The smell filled the air. "Kid probably eats like a bird anyway. Half a plate, tops. Easy groceries." She froze mid-thought, spatula hanging. "Shit. What the fuck am I thinking? This isn't a goddamn adoption pitch."
She plated bacon and cracked in more eggs, the sizzle loud. "She looked so small on that couch, though. All skin and bones, like the world chewed her up already." Her chest tightened. "And the way Void looked at her... I've seen that look once before. It was aimed at me."
Her stirring grew rough, eggs breaking down too far. "Not fair. I signed up for Void's chaos, not co-parenting some broken girl. I'm not built for this. I'm not.." The thought hit like a fist. "...not good enough."
Her wrist went slack. Spatula clattered against the counter. She pressed her forehead to the laminate, swallowing the burn in her eyes. "Since when do I even give a shit about being good enough?"
Two plates hit the table. Habit. Always two - her and Void.
Her hand hovered, then stalled. "Fuck." She dragged another plate down from the cupboard and thunked it beside the others. "Right. Third mouth. Get with the program, gearhead."
She spooned out eggs with zero finesse, grease splattering. "It's just food. That's it. If she eats, fine. If not, whatever. I don't give a-" The thought died before it finished.
The silence around her cut sharp. Both palms on the counter, grease tacky under her skin. "Fuck. I do care. Fuck me sideways."
The glossy stovetop reflected her scowl back at her. A year ago, she couldn't even choke out a yes to Void without spiraling. Now she was here: stress-cooking breakfast for a half-feral twenty-two-year-old who'd screamed through her nightmares.
Her ribs pinched, fresh wound or not. "She looked so fucking exhausted. And that flinch when Void touched her... Wired to expect a punch every time someone came close. Whoever did that... I swear to fuck, I'd-" She gently hit the counter with a fist before she could finish that thought.
The pan popped. She scraped the last of the eggs onto the plates and shoved her chair back before she could sit. "Scrambled eggs, bacon, toast. Family fucking breakfast. What's next, matching sweaters? Fan-fucking-tastic."
Amy opened her eyes to the dim glow of LED lighting set Void re-built after they moved into the new apartment, the quiet whirr of her 3D printer fans filled the silence. Magenta girl was still dead to the world beside her, happily dreaming about... Whatever netrunners dream about. Amy just sat there, still and watching, afraid to breathe too loudly in case she shattered the moment.
A soft weight pressed down into her lap. Vector had jumped up, curling with the unbothered grace of an entity that knew exactly where it belonged at any given moment. Amy's hand moved on instinct, threading through warm fur, scratching behind his ears until the low rumble of purring filled the room. Her lips curved into the faintest smile - brittle, but there.
Her stomach broke the spell with a loud, traitorous growl. She winced, glancing guiltily towards Void to see if she'd woken her. Nothing. Still out. Amy carefully scooped Vector against her chest and slid off the couch.
The hallway smelled faintly of smoke and frying oil. She followed it, waddling through, the cat heavy and warm in her arms. The kitchen glowed with dull daylight filtering through grimy windows. And there - Keira.
She wasn't eating. Wasn't even still. She paced in a tight line, words muttered low, hands clenching and flexing at nothing. Like she was seconds from grabbing her jacket and walking out the door forever. Amy lingered in the doorway, too timid to break whatever this was.
It was Vector who betrayed her. His tail flicked, catching Keira's eye. She spun, sharp, startled - "Shit, kid-" then stopped short, breath leaving her in a rough exhale. A hand pressed to her chest. "You scared the bejesus out of me. How long you been there?"
Amy said nothing. Just held the cat tighter.
Keira's gaze flicked between them, softening despite itself. "You like him?" The question came out gentler than she intended, almost uncertain.
Amy gave a tiny nod. Still no words, only movement. Vector purred louder, oblivious.
"Yeah. Easy to like. Doesn't ask much. Just food, scratches, a warm lap." Her mouth quirked, but the smile broke halfway. "Wish people worked like that."
She cleared her throat, bracing herself back into something harder. "Void still out?"
Another nod.
"Figures. Sleeps like a corpse once she crashes. Good sign, though - means she trusts the walls enough to actually rest." Her voice cracked at the edges, emotion leaking where she didn't want it. She rubbed the back of her neck, gestured vaguely at the counter. "Anyway... Breakfast? I mean- If you want."
Amy blinked, hesitant. "C- can I?" The whisper was barely sound, thin enough it almost snapped in half.
Keira froze. That tone, that fear - it struck like a knife between the ribs. She forced herself to keep her voice steady. "What do you mean, 'can you'? Of course you can. Who do you think I made this for?"
Amy shrank back a little regardless. "I... I'm not used to people-" She trailed off, chewing on the inside of her cheek. Her arms curled tighter around Vector.
Keira's chest tightened, breath rough. She raked a hand through her hair like she could tear the ache out of herself. "Listen, girl- Amy. Nobody here's gonna bite your head off for eating some eggs. You don't have to earn it. You don't gotta beg. It's just breakfast. Okay?"
Amy looked up at her - just for a jiffy - searching her face for any crack, any sign of a trap. When she didn't find one, she gave a trembling nod.
"That's it. Good." Her voice slipped softer again, no matter how much she fought it. "Come and sit. Food's better hot."
Amy hesitated one last time, then set Vector gently down. He trotted off with a lazy tail-flick, leaving her hands empty and unsure. She crossed the room like every step might snap something invisible, then finally sat down with care so great you'd think sitting itself was a dangerous act.
Keira didn't look directly at her - not initially, anyway. She shifted her chair just slightly, angled away, fork scraping at her plate as though Amy had wandered in on something already halfway done. That small mercy gave Amy a chance to breathe, to arrange herself at the edge of the chair akin to a guest unsure if she'd overstayed already.
The silence was long, filled only by clinks of silverware. Every so often she glanced - not at Keira, but at Keira's plate, her pace, how casually she moved food from dish to mouth. She mirrored it, but stiffer, as if she needed the reference to know what breakfast was supposed to look like.
Keira gave her time. Then, after a few bites, she spoke, a little dry. "You ever eaten with someone like this? Table, chairs, no one rushing, no one watching?"
Amy stilled mid-bite. Her throat worked as she swallowed too quickly, then she turned her head just slightly, a slow, deliberate shake.
Keira's lips pulled to one side. "Yeah, well-" She didn't press, just let the air ease before continuing. "-congrats. You're surviving your first time. You'll get a medal after dessert."
Amy's hand twitched on her fork, a flicker like she might smile but swallowed it down.
Keira gave her another quiet minute, then asked: "So. What's your thing? Everyone's got one. Something they'd pick if no one else had a say."
Amy's shoulders tightened. Her fork hovered above her plate. No answer.
Keira didn't retreat. She tilted her head like she was just musing out loud. "Could be anything. Food, music, I don't know. Hell, mine's combustion engines. That sound when something roars to life after you've put it back together? I'd bottle it if I could."
Amy's eyes shifted - quick, sideways, toward Keira, then back down. Her lips parted like she almost said something, but instead she prodded her food into neater lines.
Keira tried again, not intrusive, just curious. "Okay, let's narrow it down. Food. Easy question. If someone handed you a plate of whatever you wanted, no price tag, no strings - what's on it?"
This time, after a pause, Amy breathed out, almost inaudible: "Noodles."
Keira leaned back, one brow arching. "Noodles. Classic. Can't go wrong there. What kind?"
Amy hesitated, lips pressing tight. Then, quieter still: "Packet ones."
Keira grinned, almost triumphant. "The ol' reliable MSG bricks. You're speaking my language, to be honest. My cupboards are basically a shrine to those things."
Amy's grip on her fork softened. She finally lifted a piece of food to her mouth without glancing at Keira first. Her jaw worked slower, more natural. Not quite smiling, but something eased in her posture.
Keira pounced on that tiny shift, but carefully. "Alright then, Miss Noodles. You got a flavor you swear by?"
Amy's eyes darted down to her plate. "Chicken."
Keira stabbed her fork into her food with mock solemnity. "Correct. Beef's for people who hate themselves."
Amy blinked at that, then exhaled through her nose - something finally resembling a genuine laugh.
And then, sardonic as all hell, a voice cut across.
"Wow. Leave me out cold on the couch and start a whole breakfast date without me. Rude. Also, indeed, I do hate myself, thank you very much."
Amy's head snapped up. The fork clattered onto the table as she ran to Void, arms wrapping around her waist in a desperate hug. "Hi Void!" The words burst out of her like they have been waiting all morning.
Void - caught completely by surprise - froze only for a blink, then let out a breath, her arm coming up to pull Amy closer. She looked over the girl's shoulder at Keira, quirking a brow as if to say, "See? She's already ours."
Keira's mouth twitched sideways. A look that wasn't a smile but wasn't denial either - an awkward, crooked acknowledgment. "Yeah. We're royally fucked, Void. Congratulations, dumb bitch," she thought.