Archive of Our Own

“Stelle!—”

“I’m not doing this for another two weeks, March.”

“But—!”

“But nothing. You’re going to come in here, explain yourself, and we’ll get this over with so I can finally sleep peacefully aeons damn it.”

“Stelle I’m not ready!”

“You’re never going to be ready at this point. What’re you waiting for, the Express to implode?”

“I don’t know!”

The door to the Archives slams open with enough force to rattle its hinges, and even Stelle glances at it for a moment the way two other people with her do.

Oops.

She hadn’t meant to slam it that hard. Wasn’t even sure that she could. To be entirely honest, she’s more glad it didn’t slide directly off its tracks in her hurry to get the door open.

But it was difficult when it was nearly one in the morning system time and her nerves were frayed to hell and back. Her heart is racing beneath her own chest, even if she’s confused why when this really isn’t her problem (except it very much is) and she’s been trying to console someone else for the last two hours. Her hands are shaking, clammy and hot, while her mind is focused on a singular thing. Apparently entirely incapable of thinking of much else, especially the structure of a door that she sort of fears she could put a fist through now. Rarely did she know her own strength, perhaps that was the Stellaron talking, and she gives a halfway apologetic look to the startled Dan Heng that’s sat up on his futon — and said look probably doesn’t help just how out of it she seems right now.

The low light of the floor gives off a near eerie atmosphere while the three passengers of the Express stare at each other, barely thinking to move. Other than the sound of the train’s recycled air moving through the vents and the still-shocked breathing of all of them, it’s silent enough to hear a pin drop on the floor. Teal eyes bore into her, brows furrowed and dark hair fallen in his face while his chest heaves. Dark hair plastered to his forehead that he doesn’t bother to fix in the moment. Stelle can almost feel the round indigo eyes belonging to the archer of the Express doing the same to her now, but the grip on the back of her sleep shirt doesn’t loosen. In fact, it tightens, and still tries to fruitlessly tug her back into the hallway.

Too late for making any plan of leaving. Dan Heng’s already searching for words, gaping like a fish and March is fumbling syllables that make no sense in any recognizable language. It’s not like Stelle exactly had a plan when she’d marched out from her and March’s shared room beyond the fact that March and Dan Heng needed to talk. Or well, all three of them did — before she lost every marble that still rolled around in her skull.

So why was Stelle slamming doors and startling friends this early (or late?) in the morning?

Likely because of the woman behind her, and this fickle heart they both seemed to share.

If she had to guess when this had all started, it’d probably been shortly before they’d left the Luofu. Somewhere in the aftermath of the long fight against Phantylia, somewhere in the hustle and bustle of finishing up their work on the Xianzhou, it’d briefly slipped by in her mind just how much she cared about Dan Heng. Unsurprising, weird that she’d give it that much thought at the time. It was a given, she cared for the entire Express, she wouldn’t fight like she did if she didn’t. Unlike many of her other hangups about life (usually those that bordered on existential and maybe nihilistic), that’d been something that’d perhaps always existed. Had perhaps always mattered. After all, he was one of the first people to find her when she woke up as a proper amnesiac, had put her life before his more than once, and generally continued to look out for her in more ways than one. Shared his knowledge as readily as anything else, entertained her flights of fancy, and was incredibly determined to protect the Express. He amused her, made her laugh, occasionally made her truly think, showed her the galaxy. He changed, as much as they’d all changed, and that little half-smile he hid behind a hand whenever Stelle did something truly hilarious is seared into her memory, warming her entire being more than that of the Stellaron could. The trust he expressed with her as time went on truly had made her feel more human, and they’d found the occasional hobby to share. Time that eventually became quiet and comforting rather than silent and stifling.

Thinking about all that’d happened, when they’d been sitting in the inn room waiting for him to return from the Seat of Divine Foresight, she’d found she’d be pretty sad if he ended up staying with the Xianzhou. An empty Archives, without the resident Guard. An empty seat at breakfast and dinner, no one at her nine o’clock in a fight, no one who would know exactly what to say in any situation at all. Stelle figured if that ever came to pass, she’d probably hate it more than anything. It’d probably eat at her for years beyond that, the (un)fortunate reality being that Dan Heng had carved a place in her heart for himself, and that he certainly wasn’t going anywhere.

That went for every Express passenger, but it’d been weird that she’d felt similarly to how she thinks she’d feel if March would’ve left the train.

Why that was odd? That was because she’d begun dating March a few months prior to then. Nearly a year. And while Stelle could certainly be a bit iffy on social customs, she was pretty sure that was one of the cardinal no-nos was to be thinking of someone else like that. She already had a hard time determining the difference between the romantic feelings that she had for her girlfriend and the strong feelings she had for people like Dan Heng or even Firefly these days. But something about them were very particular, creating emotions that she’d only truly experience around her partner and never anyone else. Looking for their approval before she did much of anything, every touch feeling like it burned and still craving more of it anyway. Getting all too nervous when they chose to look her way, and feeling as if maybe this was the way it was supposed to be, when they’d all caught a nap together in the parlor car a few weeks ago before a jump.

That seemed to be a pretty decent marker of when things made sense and when they didn’t.

Until she couldn’t differentiate her feelings while the pair of them had been on Penacony with Himeko. Both she and March had expressed their disappointment that Dan Heng hadn’t joined them, but there was that inkling of being confused why her heart had sunk the way it had when he'd told them he wouldn’t be attending the Charmony Festival with them on the Planet of Festivities. At the time, she hadn’t exactly given it much thought, and certainly throughout all of the downright mind-boggling events that’d occurred on-planet, she hadn’t been given much alone time to analyze her real feelings much about the man.

Stelle had far bigger problems. Like frantically searching through dolls for bombs. Or defeating a massive version of the Oak family head. Or just dealing with a suit of armor that turned out to be the friend she made. Or even that gambler that ended up dragging all of Penacony into a mess she still couldn’t quite wrap her head around. Or even that emanator of Nihility, which she still wasn’t entirely clear on. Or the presence of something called the Garden of Recollection. Or just trying to escape from a days-long dream, trying to prevent the whole of the planet from being trapped underneath the will of a dead Aeon. Or, was-dead Aeon. She still wasn’t entirely clear on that.

Perhaps she was more lucky that this whole issue with her friend seemed so small in comparison. Much less earth-shattering and nightmarish. This, certainly, was something that’d fade away into nothing given a few weeks and another stop with the Express. Surely.

Yet, since they’d left, she still had questions being asked. Became far less sure of herself. When he’d come to meet them at the end of it all, she found herself wordlessly following after March to throw themselves into a hug with him. And if she held a little too tight to the both of them, certainly no one had commented on it.

But when had questions about Dan Heng entered the mix?

Probably when March just couldn’t stop talking about him.

That’d never really been a problem before. After all, he and March had been travelling together for some time before Stelle had arrived on the Express. They knew a great deal about each other, had terrible inside jokes and memories on planets that she’d only seen in the Archives. All sorts of wordless strategies and mmemonics before a fight, or how Dan Heng would pull her out the way of a crowd by the back of her shirt with barely a passing glance, while March often looked to him for guidance whenever they went into new situations. While they had their boundaries drawn between each other, they were closer with the other rather than Himeko or Welt. That unbreakable bond that only shared travels could produce. It was sweet, seeing it from the outside. Sweeter when March had reached out constantly, trying to fold Stelle into it. Where she thinks Dan Heng should’ve been awkwardly responding to it considering her crash course of an entrance, she clicked in like a puzzle piece that was always missing.

Then, she and March were close. Way closer than she’d ever expected. As if there were something in the galaxy that pushed them together, tethered them that way to eventually find the other woman. Nights spent giggling away in March’s bed because she was so adamant that Stelle couldn’t sleep on the floor, curled up together because of a bad nightmare, or March happily sharing her clothes. Fingers linked together while they walked around aboard the space station, the spot next to her in the dining car becoming definitively Stelle’s, much of their downtime on Belobog spent together. Suddenly, their interactions felt so charged with something that she couldn’t quite name, looking forward to any time spent together, every touch staining her skin, and craving more of it.

Amazing then, that Stelle had never really figured out when her feelings became so distinctly different. Looking back at it, perhaps that kiss shared in the observatory car should’ve been expected. For how natural it’d felt, clacking teeth and all because they’d been far too enthusiastic to do it right, maybe she shouldn’t have been that surprised staring at her now-girlfriend’s pupils, blown wide in the dark, muttering something along the lines of “Yes, I will be your girlfriend”

“— Stelle.”

She blinks away the memory, taking in the current surroundings, “What?”

“I — we’re you not listening?” March, appearing her peripheral. Red rimmed eyes and biting down on her lips, voice barely above a whisper, “I said we should go, we should let Dan Heng sleep.”

To see March so disheveled, so distressed perhaps does make her rethink this plan of action. Perhaps she was a little too hasty, maybe her annoyance got the better of her where it shouldn’t have. Her gaze flickers to her, then back to Dan Heng, who still hasn’t moved much, but looks as if he intends to.

What have you started?

“March … I think this is necessary.”

“Necessary? It’s the middle of the night!” Her girlfriend hisses back, “I told you—”

“You told me that you didn’t want to regret anything you could remember,” She finally turns over her shoulder enough to look at her directly. Choosing not to run, choosing to make that decision for her. Unfortunately, this was a long time coming, now and considering the way that Stelle herself at this point is yearning in a way that’s downright painful for her friend, this is the only way she could think to do it. While March preferred to do things like this more carefully, more delicately in consideration of everyone involved, nights awake of just saying nothing and everything about the person that slept just next door was just too much for her to keep dealing with.

When March had eventually come to her, just as rattled as she was now about feelings she couldn’t quite explain about Dan Heng, she’d been relieved. Glad that she wasn’t breaking some law or rule, glad that her girlfriend felt the same. That was nearly two months ago now, and considering recent events, everything had become a little more serious. Too serious. To the point that all this pining was about to come to a head, one way or another, ”Either we do this, or I will. I’m sure he’d rather hear it from you than me.”

“Is there something … wrong?” Dan Heng asks, his voice still bleary as he blinks awake. Running a hand through his hair, his expression is near unreadable, though his tone gives away his concern, “Something that you wish to discuss?”

That seems to quiet March again. Makes her a little more confident in this pseudo-choice. She takes a step into the archives, and decided that regardless of what happens, she’s not running anymore. Stelle rarely if ever ran from any fight as it was, was she really about to let her own juvenile feelings dictate how she handled a relationship? Was that really who she was?

Decidedly, no.

Though, relationships came with their own barbs and sharp edges. She’s starting to figure that out, watching and observing the other people that make up her life. And while she doesn’t want to accidentally hurt March in the process of defining this one, she still has to gently take her wrist and pull her inside the tiny room behind her. Eyes trained forward on Dan Heng, she barely reacts when Stelle slides the archives’ door back shut, returning them all back to relative darkness save for the bright sea beneath them.

It ebbs and flows, just like water beneath her bare feet. The glow of it bathes them all in artificial aquamarine, reflecting off of everything. Against March’s flushed face, it washes her out, makes her look more sickly than her anxiety already has. It shines off of Dan Heng’s eyes, making them glow a teal color as Stelle’s adjust to the newfound lighting.

A beat.

Two.

Three.

It smells distinctly of saltwater in here. Had it always been that way?

“Why are you both here?” Dan Heng echoes his earlier question, confusion permeating through his words. He tucks a hair behind his ear, more pointed than usual notably. Dressed more down than Stelle’s ever really seen him in just a sleep shirt and pants, he looks tired — but also notably wound up from how he picks at the hem of his shirt, “It is late. You know how the conductor can get when any of us are found awake from making too much noise.”

Pom-pom did indeed have a habit of banging on doors when it was later at night and they couldn’t sleep very well due to their odd habits. Stelle herself had a tendency to pad the halls, muttering to herself at what she thought was a perfectly normal volume, or watching an immersia with March to chase away the dreams of everything and nothing, but this could go one or two or maybe even three ways that could all certainly end up loud enough to wake the train.

Here was hoping they didn’t land on any of them that’d make tomorrow more awkward than it needed to be.

“… I—we, wanted to talk to you, actually,” March finds her voice, briefly enough as she swallows, sitting on the edge of the step in the middle of the room. She’s careful not to snag that cute lacy nightgown that she loves so much, and chooses not to face where Dan Heng sits, “Stelle thought it couldn’t wait.”

“And it can’t,” She shrugs, taking a seat next to March. Offering her some support that she doesn’t return, though maybe she realizes how much her girlfriend’s hands are shaking, because she gently laces her fingers through them, “Matters of friendship can’t, at least.”

Dan Heng is quiet for a moment, eyes looking to March and then Stelle herself. The word almost seems foreign to him, “Friendship?”

“Something like that.”

“Something —“ Dan Heng sighs, though Stelle can’t tell if it’s exasperation or perhaps even concern ailing him, “Is this about … everything that occurred on the Luofu? While we were aboard the Xianzhou?”

“No!” March shakes her head vehemently, quite pointed in her response. She must realize how loud she’d been, because she hugs her knees to her chest a moment later, quieting, “No. We already said we’re not going anywhere just because you’re some special dragon or whatever. So don’t even worry about that. It’s not about that at all, I—we, um…”

March trails off into nothing, worrying her bottom lip again. Looking for words, squeezing Stelle’s hand in one of her very few tells.

“Dan Heng —“

“Wait.”

His voice is soft, but equally pointed. Cutting through the near silence with just a single word. Shaky, but somewhere in the neighborhood of vaguely determined. Stelle’s interest is briefly piqued, curious what he has to say. Surely it must he something unrelated, but it seems like something that’s bothering him nonetheless because he just won’t leave the longer edges of his hair alone. His right ear twitches, out of his control as an anxious response, something she’s only been privy to a few times the more he gets comfortable with his Vidyadhara form aboard the train.

Dan Heng is typically a man of few words, whether that’s out of discomfort or simply nature, Stelle still finds herself unsure. Silence is something that she’d gotten used to with him, her and March had plenty to fill it with, but even he isn’t sure what to do with the space he’s now created for himself. As if, like them, he hasn’t quite thought out what he means to say just yet, and is looking for something still when he opens his mouth again.

He breathes, audibly even over the recycled air, “I want to say something, before … before you do. Because I fear that — I fear that it will change the way you look at me, and I wish to be honest with you, regardless of the way you feel about me later.”

She and March share a look, where is this going? He had said the same thing near verbatim during their last conversation about his other form, regardless of how many times March had tried to drill into him that neither of them cared which he took. Horns, tail and all he was still Dan Heng to them, and it feels eerily like deja vu. If he was bringing it up again …

He’s beginning to lose his resolve, obvious enough with how he can’t quite meet their eyes. Focuses on his hands, long and slender fingers weaving in between each other. Legs folded beneath him as Dan Heng shifts his posture.

Stelle almost reaches out for him, but instead settles on a tired smile, nodding to encourage him. Whatever it was, they would listen.

“I have cared for you both for quite a long time now. That is fact. Irreversibly you have changed me, unexpectedly and for the better. You have taught me things I never thought I would ever know, shown me kindness I believed I did not deserve, treated me as your own when I should have been little more than the guard of the Express. Though you know more about me now than anyone in the galaxy can possibly admit, it still bewilders me that I am enough to be called your friend.

“I appreciate that more than anything. That you have trusted me with your lives. That I am a confidant to you. That I may share as many experiences with you as I have,” Clearly, he’s had this rehearsed, or at least, thought out. He’s becoming more confident, even if teal eyes screw shut, “Yet. I fear … that something has begun to unravel out of my control, and if I do not attempt to fix it now, it will permeate everything that I do and ruin what I have.”

March frowns, tilting her head enough Stelle worries she may screw it off entirely. She’s not quivering anymore, at least, cold fingers loosening around her own. Her curiosity is palpable, making the heart that beats within her skip over one. Perhaps something had gone wrong that they hadn’t been privy to, after all, Dan Heng had spent a great deal of time away from them lately. Still, he had stories that he hadn’t quite gotten around to elaborating upon concerning Penacony and his solo adventures on the Luofu. She would be unsurprised should something have been more serious than he originally let on, but wants to help in any way that she can.

The Vidyadhara fails to look at them still, and Stelle picks herself up off the half stairs to sit closer, just on the edge of the futon. March seems to startle him when she follows, leaning her head against Stelle’s shoulder. Her sleepy enthusiasm is as real as ever though, “We’re all ears, Dan Heng. I’m sure we can find a fix for you. We always do. And even if we can’t, we sure will try.”

“You … do,” He responds a moment later. Reassurance flickers across his features like a fleeting flame, “I. Am unsure of what to do with these … feelings that have colored my interactions with the both of you as of late. You are everything that I have known since I arrived to the Express. While I have memories that I am still attempting to decipher now, I am sure of the ones that I have created with you. Our friendship has always been very real, and it will continue to be real regardless of how this conversation proceeds.

“It is not often that I find myself at such a crossroads but if I were to say that those feelings have not changed since I met you, March, or since I met you, Stelle, I would be quite dishonest. Truly, I fear I cannot recount when I began drifting closer to you. As if you were the moon and the stars, and I were the tide. I will not lie, I am … terrified, of the thought of not having you by my side. It is not a foreign feeling that I have, but it has gained a different sort of strength that I worry threatens this friendship that we have.”

The faster he talks, the less Stelle is following. What could Dan Heng possibly be talking about? Scared about losing their friendship? Not only does it seem inherently out of character for him to he that concerned, out of context it seemed like a ridiculous concern. At this point, it would have to take Nanook himself finally imploding the Stellaron in her chest to take her away from these two. And even then, she would find a way to make her way back from the afterlife. Of course, emotions would ebb and flow over the last couple months. So much had happened to them that Stelle would be entirely surprised if they did not. The nature of their relationships would morph into something new surely, even if she wasn’t entirely sure what that meant.

But, then agIn, Dan Heng had recently been acting ever so slightly off. Not enough for Stelle to begin ringing the proverbial alarm bells, but certainly enough that it’d been notable. As if he were attempting to pull away from them, putting some amount of distance between he and them. Constantly lost in thought, as if he were more disinterested in them than he had been since Stelle had arrived. It hadn’t made sense then, when he wouldn’t watch immersias with them anymore shortly after returning from Penacony, but even odder when he chose not to share any extended alone time with either of them. Like he’d gone missing, but he was still on the train.

She’s not sure if she should ask or have him stop talking all together so she can get to the bottom of this. March seems to think about it, but purses her lips instead. Allows him to continue. It must take a great deal of restraint, considering the way she keeps trying to open her mouth and closing it again. She wonders briefly if March shares her thoughts. Stelle squeezes her hand reassuringly, refocusing after a moment when her partner reciprocates.

“I must be honest with you, and that of myself. I apologize that I have not been, but I wished not to trouble you with what I thought were fleeting ideals.”

“You couldn’t,” March ends up blurting out. Dan Heng snaps his head up at that, straightening near immediately. If his eyes glow a little more in the dark, Stelle would chalk it up to seeing things, “Dan Heng, maybe we should say what we need to first. I feel like that might have a bigger impact than what you’re thinking about.”

“It — it should not wait,” His right ear twitches again. Worrying that bottom lip of his again,, “I realize now that as much as I attempt to push them away, to repress them into the deepest recesses of my mind, it is near impossible. I must face them head on.”

“I’m sure it’s not as catastrophic as you think,” Stelle adds softly. Trying to calm him down, though she’s not sure she’s succeeding because as soon as she remembers why she’s here, she suddenly finds her palms are clammy all over again. Why is she all nervous, when this was her idea in the first place? After all, she’s the one who thought this was a fantastic idea from the jump. Is it that scary to admit her feelings point blank? “March might be right, we should probably tell you why we’re here first.”

Dan Heng blinks, mouth slightly open. He swallows, darting his gaze from them to his hands and back again, “I think it would be best for me to … finish what I have started. You can decide what to do with this information when I am finished.”

“You’re not leaving us, are you?” March seems to realize it as a very, very realistic possibility and it jolts her awake almost, “Not leaving the Express right?”

“No. I …” He trails off, “I would not dream of it. Your companionship has become something more than purely platonic relations that I cannot quite describe. It eats at me, gnawing away at that of my heart. Were I to say nothing, I fear what I would turn into. I cherish what you have with each other and what you have with me, but all that I ask is that you hear that I desire something more. That it goes beyond rudimentary care for a friend, that it feels more like an attachment, a love for something I cannot have.”

Stelle blinks. Dan Heng stops talking. March freezes, halfway to sitting up straight.

Is he … saying what she thinks she’s saying?

Love?

Dan Heng just used the word love. To refer to how he felt. About presumably them?

Them? Really?

If Stelle’s poor brain could possibly fry itself just like one of Serval’s machines had the last time they were on Belobog, it just had. Out of all the things that he could have possibly said, could have possibly considered, this was not one of the things she thought she would hear tonight.

Whether she felt the beginning of what she only recognized now as love for Dan Heng a few weeks ago, she hadn’t in a million years thought they’d be reciprocated. She’d saw tonight going possibly south after she and March brought their feelings to him. Expected things to be awkward or even icy for a few weeks, sure, possibly Dan Heng leaving the Express for a while, likely. All variants that’d existed in the space that she thought her and March would fail their desire to open their relationship to the dragon that lived here in the Archives. For a myriad of reasons, whether because he simply didn’t see the pair of them in such a light (had Dan Heng ever had a relationship beforehand? She’d never bothered to ask and he’d never shared), or because he wouldn’t want to be in a relationship with short-lived species such as themselves (a more likely option, considering the nature of difference).

Stelle had basically been prepared for rejection from day one.

On day Aeons-knew-when, he’d managed to flip that very notion on its head.

“Are you, —” March’s voice is barely above a whisper but it is damn near shrill. It startles Stelle out of her own thoughts, “ Aeons are you kidding me?”

Dan Heng almost seems hurt by the accusation, unsure of what to do. His brow furrows, not understanding where she’s coming from, folding into himself. Stelle’s not about to let him retreat though, “What? I would not jest about such a thing.”

“I go through all of this … this soul searching, and talks, and advice, all the horrible advice, and looking for a reason to let it go and just trying not to think about it and that you wouldn’t even be interested and then —“ March pulls away from her, looking up at Stelle with an indignant expression, pushing out her bottom lip when she pouts, “You have the audacity to be right?!”

Oh. Right. Not only does March now owe her almost two hundred credits, a good deal of her allowance this month, (Stelle liked to bet on losing dogs, and surprisingly, this one came with a payout. And also a full can of worms left to deal with) she had also been the one to think there was a sliver of a chance that maybe, just maybe, this’d all work out for them. That they weren’t barking up the wrong tree for no good reason. And surprise surprise, she was right for once.

But looking at Dan Heng’s confused expression makes her wonder if she’s won anything exactly. He looks between both of them forlornly, the red that’s spread across his pale face only leaning more into mauve while he tries to make sense of March’s reaction.

“Is the thought such an insult to you?” He asks in between Stelle looking for a proper response and her girlfriend’s frustrated murmuring about nothing. They both end up looking to the other, wondering exactly what to say wordlessly. The first hurdle had been cleared by neither of them, but something about the consequences of their actions was staring right at them now, “I apologize if I have offended.”

“No, no, not offended at all,” Stelle coughs, finding her voice finally. If she could scrub that look off his face, she would, and thinks maybe she can if she doesn’t completely fumble what she’s been trying to get out of her head for months now. Shaking a little uncontrollably, she reaches over for Dan Heng’s hand, both of them startling in response. It’s cold, almost enough to ground her, “Flattered? Is that a good word for it? I don’t know. Relieved? Maybe that’s a better word. Not really sure if there’s a better way to put it — the point is it’s really brave of you to tell us.”

Teal eyes finally meet her’s head on, pupils blown wide in the dark but they still feel as if they’re piercing. Briefly struck speechless, Stelle feels as if she committing each and every feature on his face to memory in that moment. Near flawless skin that almost glows with the underlight of the floor, the little details that’re more Vidyadhara than human. Iridescent barely there scales that trail up along his cheeks, the red rim of markings in the corners of his eyes. His pupils are sharper than that of their’s, and with his lips parted just so — she can some of his slightly sharper teeth.

Yes, it’s been well documented in her mind that he’s otherworldly beautiful (even before now, when she’d zone out and stare at him whenever they happened to share the observatory car at the same time) but to think that he likely found them the same is exhilarating. As if her blood is running cold, but in a way that makes her feel more fuzzy, more alive than she has in some time.

He’s never been this close before either.

Stelle can’t tell if she’s getting light headed because of the pure adrenaline running through her veins or because she thinks she’s finally stopped breathing. At least she does the second one before March makes her (again).

“The reason that Stelle decided we just had to barge in here so late at night was because of … that,” March continues her train of thought, briefly reminding her that words were important and Dan Heng certainly wouldn’t be getting the message if they didn’t elaborate. She’s a little shyer than Stelle is with her more important feelings, but she does the same to reach for Dan Heng’s other hand. He flinches ever so slightly at her touch, before relaxing info it, allowing March’s daintier fingers to curl around his digits. She sucks in a breath, “I-we couldn’t stop thinking about you and how much you mean to us, and how nice you are, and how you always look out for us, and just how much we wanted to spend more time with you and and— ugh, why did you have to go and be way better at this than me, Dan Heng? I didn’t have anything prepared to say …”

If he could get more shocked, she’d worry more about him short circuiting. Flickering his gaze between both of them, wordlessly he tries to speak and gives up a moment later, struggling not to hide his face away like he always does when he got a bit flustered. She didn’t even know dragons could be that shade of red, but it’s not like she spent much time around them to begin with.

She hopes that changes, soon enough.

“You … feel the same?” He asks, in a voice that she can barely catch, even in the quiet. There’s a hopeful undercurrent in his tone, one that only makes her smile more.

“Of course we do. Since … well for a while now. Way too long. It’d been almost excruciating to deal with! I really, really like you…” March responds, barely a hint of her own nervousness a few minutes ago. She seems almost excited by the prospect, even as she yawns a little. She rocks back and forth on her heels, “How could we not? It is you, of course.”

That seems to only puzzle him more, “Myself?”

“Yes, you, silly!”

“That’s …” He shakes his head in response, seeming unable to accept the revelation, “March, as much as I am flattered — I believed that you were in a relationship with Stelle already.”

“She is,” Stelle nods, chiming in rather matter-of-factly. Though March had been the one significantly more bothered by the idea, worrying herself near sick about how Stelle would react to the idea at all, Stelle hadn’t had many if any issues with sharing the love March had with Dan Heng. Perhaps an artifact of how little she really grasped the idea of the typical relationship, or just because Stelle found the idea sweet to begin with, she’d been able to sooth March’s worries as soon as she’d brought them to her. Since then, they’d plotted out long and complicated proposals, as well as short and casual ones looking to fold Dan Heng into their affections with no plan by the time Stelle had decided enough was enough tonight. As long as she still cared for her the same, there was no harm in it, as far as she was concerned, “You’re not coming between us at all. As long as you’ll have us, it’s not like we can’t build something new with you. We want to make something new with you.”

For a moment, she fears they may have accidentally overwhelmed him. Beyond that question he says nothing else, she’s almost concerned he might’ve stopped breathing entirely while she watches the cogs turn in his head. He’s thinking, reasonably hard about such an important confession, she can’t really blame him for it. That was what she did adore about Dan Heng, that when he was serious about something, he took every step that he could to make sure it couldn’t go wrong.

That’s also what Stelle kind of dislikes. Sometimes she wishes he would just dive headfirst into things with them and worry later, but he wouldn’t be himself if he did. And, she figures this is a lot to process in the middle of the night. Springing it on him with no warning probably wasn’t helping that reaction at all.

Well, everyone needed a little push now and again. And March seems to catch on to what she’s implying, shifting away only slightly enough to allow her to lean forward

“Can I kiss you?”

“What?”

“I asked —“ She repeats with a smile, pushing ever closer. Stelle only chuckles softly at his expression, “Can I kiss you, Dan Heng?”

He blinks at her, brows furrowed in thought. As if he’s weighing this and that mentally, as quick as he can. His lips part only slightly before falling closed again. She’s infinitely curious what he’s thinking about, whether he’s thinking about all those consequences he always talks about whenever they’re on the precipice of a major decision. Dan Heng often is the one that keeps them from making terrible choices on their own, she wonders what he thinks of this proposition of sorts.

Does he even really know?

Well, she has more hope this is a good decision.

Or a terrible one.

It’s too late to be worrying about that.

She never noticed the tips of his ears are also a bright shade of red. Stelle stifles a little bit of a laugh. Wouldn’t be fair to make fun of him now.

Dan Heng’s grip loosens on where it had wrapped around her wrist. At first Stelle thinks she should lay off on him, sit back on her knees, but after some deliberation he nods. Just enough that she can only really tell because his hair moves, a barely there, nervous smile on his expression. He swallows thickly.

“You may.”

There’s probably no other way to put it than that Stelle’s heart swells at the acceptance. It almost feels too big to stay in her ribcage, threatening to pound its way out of the bone there. Warmth spreads across her skin, one of the scars on her hands glowing a faint gold beneath the healed skin. She probably looks far too excited with that silly grin that March always kisses off her face, but does it really matter right now?

Right now, when she’s cupping his face with her hands, with her face only an inch away from his? Right now, when she’s almost going cross-eyed out of her thinly (read: barely) veiled excitement? Or right now, when she breathes in shallow before connecting the pair of them, drinking him in when their lips press together.

Maybe there was some merit to all those romance immersias that March loved watching. Feeling like there was some spark going off in her brain is downright maddening, but near euphoric all at the same time. Soft, plush lips against her’s that she only wants more of, new and exciting — something to explore with him. He kisses so gently, as if he’s afraid to hurt her. Tentative, so unsure of himself. But there’s something beneath that too, something she feels like she has all the time in the galaxy to discover now when she finally pulls away from him a moment later. To sit there, face each other and finally breathe with everything out in the open … it’s nothing short of exhilarating.

He looks at her as if she has all the answers. Eyes only slightly lidded, cracked open after they were screwed shut, she’s assuming.

Stelle doesn’t, but she doesn’t need any.

If he had any doubts, they sure weren’t going back now.

“C’mon, don’t leave me hanging!” March giggles, snapping Stelle briefly back into reality. She shoves her shoulder, knocking Stelle around just a little as the pair of them snickered together. Dan Heng seems to be unable to help himself, the corners of his lips turning upwards when he brings a shaky hand up to his mouth. March exhales, in and out, before she faces their new … partner (in crime, they’d have to see), “May I kiss you too, Dan Heng?”

The Vidyadhara melts in that moment, relaxing ever so slightly when he nods again. They can’t help but laugh a little on contact, perhaps it’s nervousness, perhaps it’s the fact they can’t keep each other’s noses out of the way, but it feels like pure, unfiltered joy. Palpable, in the way that March manages to take them both down onto the futon when Dan Heng loses his balance — and Stelle gets pulled down after them. It’s a mess of limbs and all March lets out is an oomph when she lands on top of Dan Heng.

It’s quiet for only moment until she hears a gentle, quiet laughter over the sound of the air recycler. Glancing over, she finds Dan Heng’s chest rising and falling, covering his mouth with a free hand as if trying to stifle it. Stelle blinks, once until she’s breaking into a laugh herself at this ridiculous scene, maybe laughing more to finally get all of those jitters out of her body. March doesn’t even attempt to get untangled, only giggling in response.

Stelle is, decidedly, stuck beneath one of Dan Heng’s legs and her shirt in March’s grasp, but it’s not like she wants to go anywhere. Not like she minds, when they still haven’t moved hours later, both of them somehow holding onto her in the wee moments of the morning.

Stuck together … she likes the sound of that.

Nothing else to wish for.