Archive of Our Own ^beta

Despite what people might think, based on the way she carried herself and her reputation for always leaving the bar with somebody new, Daya wasn’t the type to go to bars or clubs alone. She preferred going in a group, surrounded by her friends sharing too—expensive drinks and poorly dancing with them until she split from the group to find a hot person to go home with. But even though all of her friends either couldn’t join her or didn’t respond to her texts, she’s had the kind of shitty day that can only be remedied by binging bad reality TV shows or drinking and finding someone to hook up with, and she finished binging America’s Next Top Model with Crystal two days ago. 

This finds her in an outfit that she put together for the sheer purpose of showing some skin. She knew she looked hot in a thrifted shirt that complemented her favorite short skirt, one that makes her ass look great, a leather choker with a buckle in the front, and a pair of fishnets that are torn to high hell—and yeah, maybe she should get a new pair, but there’s nothing wrong with a more distressed look. 

She walks into the club she usually frequents with her friends, this time alone. She feels a small rush of nerves as she crosses the threshold into the loud, sweaty atmosphere, but she lets them go with a controlled exhale—just because she’s nervous to be here alone doesn’t mean she’ll allow herself to show it. She has a reputation, after all.

Wasting no time, Daya maneuvers through the crowd to get to the bar. Even before getting to the front of the bar, she knows that no matter who’s working today, they’re going to have something to say about her being here alone. Oh, the joys of being friends with the owners, two best friends named Willow and… well, she was told to call the other one Kornbread, and at this point she’s too afraid to ask why. With the way Kornbread grins when Daya gets to the front of the bar, she knows she’s in for a treat.

“So. You’re that desperate, huh?” she prompts, after looking around for the rest of the usual group and coming up empty. Daya snorts.

“Something like that. Nobody else could make it, and the only thing that could improve this horrible day is either fucking someone or getting fucking wasted,” Daya groans, plopping down onto a nearby barstool the second it was vacated. Another person looking to do the same thing huffs and walks away, and Daya allows herself to look smug for a second as Kornbread turns to prepare her a drink.

“Here, baby. Don’t ask me what’s in this, but it’s fruity and it will fuck you up. And don’t tell Willow, but you can take that one for free.” Daya takes the glass containing a shockingly green liquid, nodding her thanks before lifting it to her lips and glancing at the other patrons, sizing them up. Her eyes scan over a few obviously straight girls, a guy who was loudly proclaiming that “fruity drinks are for pussies”, and someone who looked like fun until they bought a drink for the guy next to them and got a kiss as thanks. I guess I’m getting wasted, then, she muses.

She snaps up when she feels a warm body come up to the bar next to her, smoothly stealing the stool to her left as the last occupant gets up to dance. She glances over quickly, then looks away, but she has to do another take because the person sitting next to her had to be the hottest person she’d ever seen. They were all angles—the slope of their nose, their angular cheekbones, the definition of their jawline. She looks away when she realizes she’s been staring, and not covertly, either. She’s suddenly and inexplicably bashful, something which is usually never an issue for her when she’s confronted with someone she thinks is hot, but…

They were different, somehow. And Daya doesn’t know what to do, but she knows that she no longer has to look around because she gets the feeling that no matter what happens, this is the person that she’ll be taking home tonight. It feels almost inevitable.

“I’ll have whatever that green monstrosity is,” the person says when Kornbread asks what they want, gesturing to Daya’s drink with a grin, “I don’t know what it is, but she seems like she has good taste.” They look Daya up and down, and Kornbread takes that as her cue to start whipping up another glass of… whatever this was. “Bosco, she/they. You’re cute.” She punctuates her statement with a wink, and Daya tries to control her blush, silently cursing herself for acting like a hormonal teenager in front of this fucking model. 

“Daya. She/her, and… you’re not that bad yourself.” Bosco’s grin quirks up a little higher, and she looks down at the bright green drink in Daya’s hand.

“So, what did I just order? What could you possibly have said to get a drink that looks like that ?” They seem to be teasing, but she could tell that they were genuinely curious. Daya sits for a second, trying to formulate a coherent response, before she gives up, deciding to tell them the truth.

“To be honest, I have no clue. I told Kornbread I needed to get either fucked or fucked up, and this is what I got in return,” she explains. 

“Kornbread. Interesting name. But I guess it’s good I found you; I have similar goals for tonight.” Bosco makes it sound so simple, and maybe it is. She must feel it too, the way they seem to gravitate towards each other already, the way Daya feels so flustered and yet so relaxed around her even in the few words they’ve shared. They lapse into an oddly comfortable silence as Kornbread places the drink in front of Bosco, and Bosco hands over a few dollars before taking a sip. They hum, swirling the ice in the glass a few times.

“Hm. Strong.” They drain the drink, setting down the now-empty glass carefully and sliding off the stool. “I’m going to dance. Join me if you want, or look for me out there if you don’t.” She scrunches Daya’s shoulder in a move that seems oddly fitting for her, and she seamlessly melds into the crowd of drunk people dancing. 

Daya orders another drink. She needs it.

Daya knows who she’s going home with, but she still takes a moment to scan the people around her once more, people-watching to kill the time it takes her to finish her drink. And there, leaning against a table in the back of the room, was Kerri, Willow’s girlfriend. Daya gets a second drink from Kornbread before she walks over with a grin, throwing herself into the open seat next to her friend. 

“Hey! I didn't know you would be here!” She greets, setting her drink onto the table and reaching out to squeeze Kerri’s arm. Kerri looks over from where she was watching a straight couple making out obnoxiously on the dance floor, getting elbowed by the people around them left and right but not caring at all. 

“Daya, hey! That’s a lie, I’m always here to be with my girl. What brings you here? I thought the groupchat decided that everyone was too busy?” She questions, and Daya laughs. 

“They did, but I needed to come by after the day I’ve had. You here to hang out with Willow?” She asks, struggling to find the straw with her tongue before taking it in her fingers and guiding it to her mouth. Smooth, Daya.

Kerri snorts at Daya’s fumbling, making her flush a bit before joining in. “Yeah, but I’m hanging out for a bit while I wait for it to die down at the bar. Wait with me?” Kerri asks, and Daya agrees with a tilt of her head. 

The two of the chatter about inane things—a dumb joke Maddy made on Twitter that went viral, Kornbread rapping in a song, Jorgeous (another weird name. Why does she keep befriending people with weird names?) and the way she Capitalizes Every Word She Types. But even while talking to Kerri, her eyes can’t help but wander over to Bosco. She watches her maneuver deftly through the crowd and back to the bar, getting another drink and downing it quickly before taking her place back on the dance floor.

Bosco’s moving her hips like they were made to sway, her short black skirt somehow riding up even more as she moves her body to the music. She’s putting on a show for someone. She’s putting on a show for her.

“Daya. Daya! ” Kerri calls, and Daya gets the distinct feeling that Kerri has been trying to get her attention for a while, “You’ve got it bad, girl. You going home with her?”

“Trying to, yeah,” Daya hums, not taking her eyes off of the ginger. Bosco’s looking straight back at her. She feels like she’s drowning, the feeling of being desired by the hottest person she’s ever seen intoxicating her more than the drinks could ever hope to do.

Kerri laughs at her, and she smiles, breaking the intense eye contact with Bosco for only a second as she glances at her companion. Kerri grins and tilts her head towards Bosco. “She’s hot, you have good taste,” she says, and it doesn’t escape Daya’s notice that Bosco was the last person to tell her that. 

“I know,” Daya replies. Maybe it’s a bit cocky, but Daya doesn’t care. Kerri laughs again, and Daya’s attention is pulled to her once more, continuing their earlier conversation–this time, talking about Willow. 

Kerri eventually slips away, determined to find Willow and pull her to the dance floor before the night was over. Without a distraction, it doesn’t take too long for Daya to focus on Bosco once again, and she looks… she looks really good. The flashing lights illuminate her face at seemingly random intervals—the DJ controlled both the lights and the sound, but he was notoriously bad at multitasking. Nobody cared, though, and despite the way it usually grated on her, she couldn’t bring herself to care either. Not when Bosco did that with her legs, shooting a glance over to Daya to make sure she was watching. They grin when they catch her eye, clumsily raising their hands up and swaying their hips more purposefully. Daya snorts at the obvious move, winking at Bosco when she sees her let out an obvious cackle. 

She wants to join the ginger, she really does, but as she walks down a few shallow steps into the dance floor she’s pulled to dance with Kerri, who screams something into her ear about Willow being too busy to dance with her. Daya allows herself to be distracted from her original goal to dance with Kerri instead, mentally apologizing to Bosco for delaying the inevitable. 

It takes almost no time until she finds herself playfully grinding into Kerri—it’s not an unfamiliar position for her, as she often finds herself dancing with any one of her friends like this on a normal night, but tonight it felt different than ever before. 

Maybe it’s because, when she catches Bosco’s eye, the ginger’s eyes have a jealous fire in them. Maybe it’s because Bosco runs her hands down her body, mouth parting in a small gasp, making sure that Daya forgets Kerri and focuses on her instead. Maybe it’s because Bosco flutters her eyelashes, playing innocent, pretending like she didn’t know exactly what she was doing to her. 

Daya can't help the way she watches Bosco with a ferocious intensity, only muscle memory keeping her moving as she focuses on the ginger with every fiber of her being.

The arrival of Willow is punctuated with a happy cheer from Kerri, who is already letting go of Daya and attaching herself to her girlfriend. Daya takes this as her cue to leave them–it’s not malicious, but Kerri and Willow are very clingy and have a tendency to focus most of their attention on each other. And with how worked up she is from watching Bosco? She doesn’t think she can handle this right now.

Daya lets out a long sigh before turning to the exit—she needs to catch her breath. 

She makes her way to the door, pushing it open and shivering as she’s hit by the chill of the night air. Her head is cluttered, spare thoughts of work and stress and Bosco Bosco Bosco making her feel disoriented. But Bosco’s dancing, and she’s sitting on the probably dirty ground with her vape in one hand and her phone in the other. 

And she can’t get the thoughts of Bosco out of her head. Bosco’s sly smiles as she throws her head back, the way her hips sway from side to side, the wink she throws over her shoulder to Daya as she does a little shimmy. Daya’s enamored, intrigued, and interested, even after such a short amount of time, even though they had only exchanged a few words. She couldn’t help it, there was something about Bosco that just pulled her in. 

“Trying to hide, pretty girl?” 

Speak of the devil.

“Not from you.” Daya fidgets with the vape in her hand, trying not to stare at the ginger standing next to her. She knows Bosco probably wouldn’t mind, but she would feel weird doing it anyway. Daya takes a hit, then wordlessly offers it to Bosco.

“Thanks, baby,” Bosco says with a tilt of her head as she wraps her lips around it, taking a hit, before continuing, “From who? The girl inside?”

“Kind of? That’s Kerri. She was just waiting for her girlfriend to finish up at the bar so they could dance together—she’s Willow’s girlfriend, one of the owners of the bar,” Daya elaborates, and continues when Bosco prompts her with a nod of her head. “I love them, I really do, but they get very clingy and I don’t feel like being a third wheel today.”

Bosco lets out a content hum before dropping down to sit next to her, leaning some of her weight into Daya’s side. “Ah. Makes sense.”

A few beats pass, neither of them talking. Surprisingly, it’s not uncomfortable. Daya sighs, enjoying the companionable silence. 

Why does tonight feel so different from any other time she had come to the club for a hookup before? This isn’t particularly novel for her—she’s at the club so often that she has a reputation, thank you very much. But tonight…

Was it Bosco? Bosco was the new variable here, the unknown. She was a gravitational pull, a force that made Daya’s head spin and her eyes track her from movements across the room. She was hot and she knew it, and she wasted no time before teasing Daya with sensual movements and a gaze that was heavy with intent.

Her eyes once again trail to Bosco. Her long red hair is caught in a few of the bricks on the wall, and Daya runs her hand through it to free the pieces. Bosco giggles, an addicting sound, and Daya can’t help but smile down at her. 

“Keep doing that. Feels nice.” Bosco murmurs, leaning more of their weight against her. Daya complies, lifting her hand and running it through her hair again. It’s smooth, silky in a way she thought was impossible. She can’t believe she’s here, right now, doing this; petting the hair of a hot girl she met today, said girl leaning against her and occasionally taking a hit of Daya’s vape. 

“I want to kiss you. I think,” Bosco says, giggling a bit. She doesn’t move though, continuing to watch people across the street flit about as they walk to and from a dingy club. Why anyone would go there instead of coming to Willow and Kornbread’s, Daya doesn’t know, and from the way Bosco scrunches their nose as they watch people enter she can tell that they agree. 

“Yeah?” Daya prompts. Bosco nods, then shifts from her position leaning on Daya’s side to lay with their head in Daya’s lap. Daya grimaces. “Bosco, no, it’s dirty on the ground,” she starts, but Bosco stops her before she can finish her thought by lifting one of their hands towards Daya’s hand, placing it back on their head, their drunken laughter and goofy grin making Daya smile despite herself.

“Don’t care. Keep… keep petting my hair, please?” Bosco pauses a bit, trying not to slur their words. Just how drunk were they? Daya doesn’t know, but seeing them lay on the filthy ground outside a bar so they can have a near stranger play with their hair was concerning. As much as she liked Bosco’s presence, she wanted to get them home, or at least off the ground.

“I should get you home. Who’d you come with?” Daya tries to help Bosco up into a sitting position, but they’re uncooperative, wiggling a bit to try and escape Daya’s attempts. It’s not effective; they’re laying on her lap.

“No, I don’t want to,” they whine, but they finally allow Daya to help her up, “can’t we just stay like this? You’re comfy.”

Daya hates how much she’s endeared by them, but she can’t help it—Bosco’s pouting and clinging to her arm, looking up at her with their stupid heterochromatic eyes and stupidly cute face. And it doesn't escape her notice that Bosco dodged the question. 

“Bosco? Who’d you come with? We have to get you home, you’re pretty drunk,” she tries again, and Bosco nudges her head against Daya’s shoulder like a cat. 

“I came alone. But I don’t want to go home! Can I stay with you? Please, Daya?” Bosco pleads, pouting even more somehow.

Fuck it. She was planning on taking Bosco home earlier—this was the same thing, except now they wouldn’t be fucking each other. That would be fine. It’s fine.

“Sure, Bosco. Let’s go home.” Daya picks up Bosco’s fallen purse, slinging it over her arm. Bosco slings her arms around Daya, buzzing excitedly. 

“Yes! Thank you, baby!” Bosco’s beaming, and Daya kisses her on the forehead in a move that feels too familiar and too comforting for someone she just met tonight. She watches with wide eyes as Bosco’s hand reaches up to touch the place Daya’s lips just left. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I did that.” Daya stands up, busying herself with making sure she had all of her things, and Bosco’s purse, so she didn’t have to make eye contact. The ginger just laughs, using the wall to hoist themself to their feet. 

“Don’t worry, pretty girl. It’s cute. You’re cute.” Bosco once again finds their way to her side and latches on, being more affectionate than Daya had expected based on the person she met at the bar. When she first saw Bosco, she saw someone almost intimidating–smooth and suave in a way that made her struggle to think. But, in a way, this Bosco was just as intimidating–trusting and tactile, fond of Daya in a way that she could hardly comprehend. It scared her, a little. 

And she wasn’t immune to being called “pretty girl”. That scared her, too.

Daya calls an Uber for the both of them, trying to forget the way the ginger is pressed into her side, giggling to themself as they look up at her. It’s hard to do, and eventually she gives in, looking down at them. 

“You’re tall,” they laugh, a dumb grin spread across their face, “tall… very tall. And very pretty.” 

Daya thinks that Bosco’s talking to themself, but they’re looking up at her as if expecting a response. Daya sighs, but she’s smiling. 

“Fuck, Bosco, how drunk are you?” Daya holds onto Bosco a bit tighter, making sure she can’t run off without her. She just met Bosco—she doesn’t know what kind of drunk she was, other than giggly, but she wasn’t going to take any chances.

“That’s a secret,” Bosco winks, trying to act mysterious, but the way her drunken giggles break up her words ruin any air of mystery she may have had. God, Daya likes this person so much.

She wasn't exactly sober herself—her head was heavy and full, and she felt like she didn’t have as much control over her limbs as she would like, especially with so much of her attention focused on Bosco instead of on walking. But it didn't matter too much, in the end–the Uber pulled up just before she made the decision to sit down on the ground again. 

Daya helps Bosco into the car and then clambers in behind her.

The car pulls up to Daya’s apartment building and Daya hops out, thanking the driver, before helping Bosco stumble out of the car behind her, the few seconds between her getting out of the car and reaching out to help Bosco out marking the first time they hadn’t been touching each other in some way since just after Daya kissed Bosco’s head. The ginger had insisted on touching Daya in some way throughout the entirety of the short ride–she started with a hand on her thigh, but it only took her a minute into the ride to shift over to the middle seat and rest her head on her shoulder. 

But now, watching the Uber pull away and looking up at the apartment building she called home, Daya felt a sharp pang of insecurity run through her. This was different from a hookup, different from having her friends over. This was somehow both more and less than those things–a time where Bosco could judge the koala onesie she slung over the couch last night and never put away, or the trademark safety pins littering the apartment, or…

Bosco could judge her. And Daya couldn’t handle the thought that maybe she wouldn’t like her anymore.

“Baby? Your apartment?” Bosco prompts, visibly concerned at the suddenly fidgety girl next to her. Daya takes a short breath, trying to shove her worries away, and grabs Bosco’s hand before leading her up to her apartment. Every step feels weighty, and not just from the drinks she had earlier, and the once comfortable silence seems oppressive under the pressure of her anxious thoughts. Bosco squeezes her hand in a comforting gesture as she comes to a stop in front of her door to unlock it. 

The irony of Bosco comforting her when she’s the thing she’s anxious about is not lost on her. 

“Um, here it is,” Daya says, swinging the door open. Every flaw catches her eye, and she cringes as she glances over to the dirty dishes piled up in the sink as they make their way further into the room. Bosco seems to be uncaring about the clutter of her apartment, detangling herself from Daya and throwing herself onto the couch, sending a pillow flying to the ground. She pouts at it until Daya picks it up and gives it to her. 

“It’s cute, baby, stop worrying so much. It’s very you.” Daya hopes that “very you” is a good thing.

“C’mon, ‘sco, get up please. We gotta get you out of your makeup.” Daya holds out a hand to help her up, but she pouts and nestles further into the plush couch.

“Make me,” Bosco says, looking up at Daya through her lashes. Daya chuckles, reaching down and petting her hair instead. 

“Maybe later, when we’re both not drunk. But for now it’s time to get up, love,” Daya placates, and Bosco finally allows her to help her off the couch. She follows Daya into the bathroom distractedly, stopping every so often to comment on a knick-knack or picture on the wall.

Daya lowers the toilet seat and pats it, saying a simple “sit here, please” while she rifles through her drawers to find a new pack of makeup wipes to replace the empty pack on the counter that she’s been neglecting for the past few days. She quickly sweeps the empty pack into the open trash can, trying to tidy a little despite Bosco already seeing the mess.

“Stay still, angel,” Daya chides, seeing the way that Bosco turns and shifts on the seat. Bosco stills, eyes tracking Daya as she draws closer with a makeup wipe. “Do you want to do it, or—”

“You do it.” Bosco cuts her off, leaning forwards and closing her eyes. 

Daya is a little startled by the domesticity of the action, but she reaches forward with tentative figures, gently brushing the side of her face with the wipe. She goes in again, getting more confident with each swipe, but each brush is a gentle caress that makes Bosco nudge her hand with her face. 

“This feels nice, you’re good at this,” Bosco mumbles, and Daya’s glad that her eyes are closed so she can’t see her blush. She traces the angles of her face with the wipe, being thorough and taking her time while she has an excuse to touch Bosco’s face. 

She finishes, throwing the wipe away and grabbing one for herself, going much faster when doing it on herself. Even with her eyes closed, she can feel Bosco’s gaze tracking her hands as they remove the makeup from her face.

“Done, pretty girl?” Bosco asks as she finishes up and throws her wipe away. She nods, helping Bosco up once again and leading her to her bed.

“Here. You can take the bed, I’ll take the couch. I can get you some better clothes to sleep in, if you want?” Daya asks, already getting up and grabbing a large hoodie from her drawer. Bosco holds out her arms, trying to get Daya to throw the hoodie to her. She tries to, she really does, but her arms don't cooperate and it lands on the floor between them. Bosco cackles, and Daya can’t help but join in. Daya grabs the hoodie off the ground, throwing it again when she’s closer. Bosco doesn’t expect it this time and it hits her square in her face, making her splutter.

Bosco doesn’t hesitate. She strips off her shirt, throwing on Daya’s hoodie with a feigned nonchalance, but Daya can tell that it’s calculated from the way Bosco watches her for a reaction. Daya tries not to flick her eyes downwards towards the bare skin of her chest, but she can’t help it—when her eyes meet Bosco’s heavy gaze once more, her mouth has curled into a small smirk.

“Yeah?” Bosco teases, and Daya flushes red at being caught.

“You didn’t give me any warning! I would’ve turned away!” Daya tries to defend herself, but is stopped by Bosco getting to her feet. She saunters—or attempts to saunter to the best of her drunk ability—over to Daya, throwing her arms around her shoulders and leaning in.

“But what if I wanted you to look? What then?” She whispers into Daya’s ear, and Daya’s brain short-circuits. She can feel the puff of air as Bosco pulls back slightly, still standing very close but not embracing her anymore, and smells the stale stench of alcohol on her breath.

The reminder of how drunk they are snaps Daya out of it. 

“Then I would tell you to show me again later, but you need sleep. I need sleep.” Daya pulls back, and Bosco’s pout comes back in full force. “Come seduce me another time, angel, but right now you should go to bed.” She goes to pull away from the ginger, but she’s stopped by a thin hand wrapping around her wrist.

“No, you’re not sleeping on the couch. You’re sleeping in the bed with me,” Bosco states definitively, but her eyes search Daya for any signs of discomfort, her grip loose in case Daya wants to pull away. She doesn’t. “C’mon.”

Daya is pulled to her own bed, before being pushed down and told to stay there. Bosco walks around the room, rifling around in Daya’s dresser drawers like she lives here, too, and Daya can’t help but feel blown away at how achingly domestic this entire night has been.

“This is cute, wear this,” Bosco says, throwing an old t-shirt covered in dinosaur decals at her without a glance at Daya. It misses by a long shot, but when she moves to pick it up she’s fixed with their intense gaze.

“Did I say you could move?” the ginger asks, and Daya freezes. If she was a little more drunk or if both of them were a little more sober, she has no doubts that she would’ve been asking for more of Bosco’s addictive dominance. But here she was, trying to suppress the whine in her throat, turned into a mess by her own attempts at responsibility.

Bosco’s grin turns sharklike, as if they know what she’s thinking—and they probably do, Daya thinks, feeling the heat on her cheeks and the way she couldn’t help but cross her legs. She shakes her head, trying to rid herself of the sudden wave of pure desire that came crashing over her. 

“Um?” she starts, hesitantly and sounding strangled, “thanks, for the shirt. Bosco.” Her attempt to sound normal and unaffected was met with laughter, a distinct cackle that makes Daya smile through her embarrassment. 

“Put on the shirt, baby. Then we can go to bed.” Bosco picks up the shirt from where it had fallen, pressing it, and a pair of fuzzy pajama shorts, into her hands. Daya gets up just as Bosco flops face down on the bed. “You can change in here, if you want. I’m not gonna look,” they say, the words muffled by the plush comforter she’s buried her face into. 

Daya looks down at the stranger turned… Bosco on her bed, the reality of the situation hitting her once again. This person was someone she hadn’t ever seen before about four hours ago, and now they were face down on her bed, about to fall asleep but waiting for Daya to join her to cuddle. This person was someone that Daya just instinctively gave forehead kisses to, who seemed to just know when to tease her and when to comfort her, who pushed her out of her comfort zone but checked to make sure she was okay with it. This person had her smitten, and somehow, despite thinking that it was all moving a little fast, Daya wasn’t scared.

She slips into the clothes Bosco selected for her, hanging up the dress she had been wearing, not wanting to add to the mess of clothes littered around her room. She turns out the light before she slips into bed, nudging Bosco up to rest their head on the pillows before crawling in beside her and flipping the blankets up to cover the both of them. Bosco grabs her, wrapping their arms around her.

“Don’t go to the couch. Stay with me,” they murmur, ducking their head down as if to hide from the vulnerability. Daya smiles and pets her hair, remembering how much they liked it when she did it earlier.

“Go to sleep, hun. I’ll be here.” Daya feels Bosco cuddle up to her even further somehow, placing her head against her chest. She really hopes the ginger can’t hear the way her heart starts beating faster.

“Hm. Comfy,” Bosco mumbles, and she’s asleep before Daya can formulate a reply. Daya gives Bosco one more sleepy glance before shutting her eyes, lulled to sleep by the even breaths of the girl in her arms.

Daya wakes up as she always does, alone in a bed too big for just one person. She looks around for any signs of them, even going so far as to check the nightstand for a note, but she comes up empty. 

Many emotions hit her at the same time, all bitter and vying for attention. 

Most pressing is the utter hurt that spreads through her, starting in her chest and radiating through every inch of her body. She thought Bosco liked her. She thought Bosco would stay for a while, and if she wanted, maybe they would get the chance to have the hookup that they didn’t have last night. She thought that maybe, just maybe, Daya could find someone who liked her, who understood her, who cared for her. 

The next wave of feelings that hit her was that of betrayal, a swooping feeling in the pit of her stomach that left her feeling ill. Though they’d only met for the first time that night, she felt the connection between them. Maybe it was the aftereffects of Bosco’s affection, but she could’ve sworn that they liked her more than others around them—even when they thought Kerri was trying to take her home, they stayed persistent, being more sensual and more overt with their teasing to try and win Daya over. But she had already won Daya over. And now she was gone.

But her least favorite thing, out of everything she was feeling, was the total and complete resignation; because despite thinking things would be different this time, they always left in the end. Her last partner did, as did the one before that, and it had happened with every hookup since. Maybe she really just wasn’t built for romantic relationships?

“Oh good, you’re awake. I was trying to make us some breakfast but you have literally no food, how do you even—” Bosco trails off, their eyes widening as they look at Daya. “Oh, baby, are you crying? What’s going on?” 

Daya sniffles, only just becoming aware of the pressure behind her eyes and the salty taste of tears. Bosco rushes over, coming up beside her but hovering, careful not to touch her without permission. “Can I hold you?” they say, and Daya nods.

“Please,” she chokes out, and she starts crying harder at the first gentle press of Bosco’s hand to her arm. “I thought—”

Daya cuts herself off with a sudden sob, and before she can even comprehend it she’s sobbing too hard to get words out. You’re crying for a stupid reason. It’s not something you should bother Bosco with, she chastises herself, but she seeks the warmth of Bosco’s companionship anyway.

“Hey, pretty girl, it’s alright. I’ve got you, I’ll stay with you for as long as you need,” she reassures, moving Daya into a more firm embrace and running a hand through her hair comfortingly, “I got you, I got you, I got you.”

After a few minutes, Daya’s sobs begin to die down, but she can’t bring herself to move from Bosco’s arms. Not when it means facing the fact she just cried in the arms of someone who was practically a stranger. Not when she was crying at the thought of them leaving her. 

“Can you tell me what’s wrong?” Bosco asks after some time, brows slightly furrowed as she gazes down at the shaking girl in her lap. Daya hesitates, but eventually gives in.

“It’s dumb, but I thought you left and I thought we had a really good connection last night but then I thought you left me. And I thought I blew my chances of getting to know you because I was trying to be responsible,” she explains, screwing her eyes shut to hide from the vulnerability. 

She feels the hand in her hair still for a moment, before starting to pet her hair again. “No, Daya, of course not,” Bosco says softly, and Daya can’t help but be comforted by the gentle tone and soothing scrapes of Bosco’s nails against her head, a role reversal from the night before. “I wouldn’t leave you, baby. I was just in the kitchen, trying to find food to make for breakfast.” 

“Promise?” Daya asks, burrowing further into Bosco’s arms as she’s hit by another wave of doubt. Bosco was there, yes, but who’s to say that she wouldn’t leave after this? After having to comfort Daya about her fear of being left alone again?

“I promise. I felt the connection too, I’m not planning on leaving you, unless you want me to,” Bosco replies, loosening her grip to allow Daya to pull back, to shift out of Bosco’s embrace.

Daya takes the opportunity to move her head from Bosco’s shoulder and look at Bosco almost appraisingly, searching for any sign of a lie, any signs of discomfort. She finds none.

She knows that she looks like a mess—red, puffy eyes, tear tracks still fresh on her cheeks, hair still ruffled from Bosco’s fingers, but none of that is important to her right now. She looks into Bosco’s eyes, and upon finding nothing but sincerity she lets their foreheads touch and whispers

“Can I kiss you?”

And before she has time to overthink her request, Bosco’s lips find her own, a slow kiss that shares all of the built up feelings between the two since they had first locked eyes the night before. She hums, content, and feels Bosco smile against her. It feels right, somehow, that everything led to this—she had kissed people within minutes of knowing them, fucked people before learning their name, but never before had she felt such a need to be near a person as she did with Bosco. She’s pretty sure Bosco feels it, too, if the way she chases Daya’s lips when she pulls back is any indication.

Bosco looks at her with a satisfied smile that she knows is mirrored on her own face, and they just take a moment to look at one another. 

“So,” Bosco starts with a grin, “you have no food. Wanna go out for breakfast?” 

Daya tugs her in for another slow kiss, pulling her on top of her. “Yeah,” she breathes out, once they pull apart, “it’s a date.”

Despite what people might think, based on her quick, dry wit and her reputation for always leaving the bar with somebody new, Bosco wasn’t the type to go to bars or clubs alone. She preferred going in a group, surrounded by her friends and trying to see how many burlesque moves she could do before they noticed until she split from the group to find someone cute to take her home. But tonight she’s horny, she needs to drink away the day she’s had, and if she finds someone hot to take her home? She’s not going to complain. 

Which finds her at the door of the Angle club across town from her apartment. It’s not the place she would usually go to, but it would have to do for now. She has a good gut feeling about this place, anyway—and when she settles down on a stool beside a tall blonde who couldn’t stop looking at her, she knew that no matter what happened, she would be glad that she chose to come here tonight.