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The rain was falling steadily outside, and Whisper felt dread for its presence. It was the shameful sort of fear you got when walking down a dark road at night, where all the shadows seemed a strange and threatening uniform mass, but you were far too old to fear them.
And yet you did. You always did. Rain, for her, brought back memories. Those memories brought with them vivid and inevitable nightmares. Over the past few years, she'd been able to discard the anxiety she felt over them by finding strength in someone else, but it was unrealistic to expect said person to always be there to rescue her from such silly things, no matter how much she seemed to want to try to be.
Sometimes, you had to fight your battles yourself. Whisper, distracted, watched the rain pour down on Spiral Hill through the kitchen window as she filled a kettle, wondering if she could get away with pulling an all-nighter. She'd eventually conk out, sure, but the delirium of eventually passing out would probably stave off REM sleep, which meant-
This incredibly harebrained scheme was interrupted by seven rhythmic knocks at the front door behind her, sharp and hard and sudden enough to make her drop the kettle in the sink and spill what she had filled.
Was someone really at the door right now in this weather? Also, who actually did the shave-and-a-haircut knock? AND did the answer part themselves? Either way, regardless of how much she swore over the embarrassment of being made to jump, she hurried to the front door, welcoming the distraction for the moment. Even if it was just an incredibly desperate salesman or something, it was better than being stuck with nobody but her own thoughts at the moment.
It opened, and there she was, like graffiti beneath an overpass.
"Surge?"
The name left Whisper's mouth as a concoction of astonishment and annoyance audible even over the mercilessly pounding rain. She stood in the doorway of her apartment, light warmly beaming out from the inside at her back and making for a strange contrast with the image of the tenrec on her doorstep, soaked to the bone with drenched quills all askew and dripping across her face, every article of clothing on her body clinging to her tight.
"Heya Squinty," she said, flashing a stupid smile. The wolf was charmed immediately, and she hated the fact that it worked so well. Genuine smiles went a long way.
Whisper, still holding on to the doorknob, looked up at the rain that had been going for about thirty minutes now into the early evening with no sign of ceasing and back at the other girl. Another monosyllabic question escaped her: "Why?"
"I was on a run and I was in the neighborhood. Why else? Can I come in or not? It's flippin' cold out here!"
She stared silently at the tenrec, long and hard, eyes twinkling in thin slits. When she felt that the few seconds more of relentless rainfall had accumulated into enough of a punishment for being a goofball, she finally sighed and stepped aside: "Come in and get changed."
—-
Although she would never admit it, Tangle and Whisper's apartment was like some sort of dream home for Surge. The affectionately furnished second-story two-bedroom in Spiral Hill was neither big nor fancy, but it was undeniably cozy. Her home at Restoration HQ had been becoming a little bit more of a familiar comfort, but it was also constantly stuck in a limbo of being a total mess (when it was her turn to do chores) and being unrecognizably clean (when it was Kit's turn).
Tangle and Whisper's place was different. Wall decorations and pleasant-smelling plants were a little messy here, but in a way that reminded you that this was a space that was not only lived in but loved. At one point in her life, she probably would have been tempted to set a very thorough kerosene fire in here just to defy the idyllic aura of it all!
Now? Now, well…
"Why are you so damned tall?" Surge asked, shifting uncomfortably in one of Whisper's T-shirts. The black, frayed old thing was not quite enough to approximate a dress but long enough to almost cover the shorts she'd swiped from Tangle's drawer, nevertheless.
"Is this a rhetorical question?" Whisper asked, sipping from a fancy-looking blue teacup in one hand as she studied a paperback in another. Somewhere deeper in the apartment, a washing machine rumbled and tumbled as it tended to Surge's ruined clothing. When Whisper stopped to look up from her novel, she frowned: "Why didn't you just get one of Tangle's shirts? You two are about the same size."
"Because all of them are either super tight, or they've got… Sports. Pictures of balls. Names of sports teams. Names of sports. Who the hell has a shirt that just says "FOOTBALL" in great big letters?"
"Not a fan of that one either, "Whisper admitted as Surge plopped down on the couch beside her. The tenrec's quills were an absolute mess, the only attention given to them being a quick mashing of a towel (that was indeed immediately tossed on the floor afterward) after her shower. Without being prompted, she sat her tea and book down and began to straighten them by hand, fingers going through the locks and carefully undoing the tangles with pointy claw tips.
"Really…? I figured you were one of those sappy 'you're pretty in anything' people when it comes to Stripes."
"I think the one that just says 'BASKETBALL' in great big letters is a lot cuter," Whisper said without a hint of irony in her voice. Surge snorted.
"Where's Stripes anyway? I was kinda hoping to see her too instead of just gloomy old you." Surge picked up Whisper's book curiously, thoughtlessly losing her place in the process as she closed it to see the cover. A graven-looking doe posed heroically with an assault weapon in hand, The Sum of All Deers emblazoned over her head. Looked like some sort of military thriller.
"Visiting relatives in Station Square. She'll be back in a few days." Surge listened to this short statement very closely, trying to excise even the slightest tone of sadness in it, finding none. The wolf was good; she'd give her that.
"And you didn't wanna go?"
"Why are you here again? To interrogate me and complain?" Whisper didn't sound upset, either, as she began to tie Surge's quills back into a simple ponytail. The question was dodged into an acidic little barb. That was par for the course, though; the pair of them had understandably gotten closer since the three-way polycule had been initiated those few months ago, but Surge didn't expect their habit of taking snipes at each other every few sentences to ever go away.
It was more like a pillar of the relationship than anything. Neither was going to change who they were just because they had unlocked a new corner of affection inside themselves for each other. You’re more than the people you love, after all. And besides, they usually made Surge smile.
"Told you, I was on a run. What, is that so hard to believe? It's kinda what I do," the tenrec responded, putting on her best indignant voice. How dare you, Squinty! You wound me, Squinty!
"On a run about fifty miles away from Restoration HQ in a rainstorm." Whisper's question came out with the tone of a statement, daring Surge to pretend she didn't see the now-dark window in front of them that was pattering and rattling with the sounds of the storm outside.
"Whaddaya looking for me to say?" Surge huffed as the bluff was easily called. What she got as an answer, at least at first, was Whisper resting her chin against the tenrec's now quill-free shoulder from behind. She instantly found herself distracted by the close proximity of the face, not to mention the arms that wrapped around her midsection to hold her still. Her cheeks involuntarily pinkened at it all, "Hey! Warn me before you start the whole cuddling thing, asshole! It… Aren't you supposed to be the one that gets spooked by getting touched?! I oughta-"
"The truth would be a good place to start," Whisper said, smoothly skirting right past the fact that she'd long since gotten comfortable enough around the rowdy (and now shyly wriggling) tenrec to have mostly discarded touch aversion in private, "Were you lonely?"
"As if!" Surge had managed to pry her hands around one of Whisper's, seemingly ready to push it off in a display of petulant defiance. What she did instead was find herself holding it, and soon after came the realization that she didn't want to let go. The electricity-fueled punk huffed from her nose and raised it to her lips, giving the back of the tanned hand a kiss
"You're the lonely one. I just couldn't leave you here by yourself, with the rain and all. You oughta be thankful."
There was a brief silence, one long enough that Surge winced internally. Had she pushed it a little too far at the end there? No. No, she hadn't, judging by the airy little windchime of a giggle from behind her. Whisper seemed to lean into her harder, "That, uh… Wasn't a joke, Squinty. What's so funny?"
She began to kiss the tenrec along her neck, lips idly traveling along the side of her face from there. They settled at one of the shorter girl's pierced ears, rolling the soft, felty thing between pointy canines. Surge shuddered a little, tilting her head. Damn her and those pointy teeth of hers! A little extra frustration mounted, "That's not an answer!"
"Surge, I've never told you about my nightmares. And you've been acting like you weren't expecting me to be alone here."
"That- I mean. I mean, I was… Uh…" Surge cursed under her breath; all the snuggling and biting had distracted her into running her mouth! It just made Whisper laugh again, a noise so sweet and gentle that the tenrec was having a hard time hating it.
"I suppose that means Tangle got worried about me and told you. And when you saw the weather… You know, you don’t have to act all tough-"
The frustration finally hit a boiling point for the tenrec. At one point in Surge's life, that would have resulted in her trying to slug the wolf in the side of the head. In this case, what happened was she swiveled around in Whisper's grasp to face her, promptly pressing her weight against the wolf. The Diamond Cutter might have been frustratingly smart, but she didn't see that coming; she quickly fell backward onto the couch.
And yet, in the dim light of the living room, Surge found the only thing that it earned was a fangly smile. This was likely due to the fact that the tenrec, on top or not, was sporting a deep blush and embarrassed eyes that struggled to meet Whisper's gaze. The position might have changed, but their dynamic certainly had not.
"A-All right, Detective Spooky. Let's assume you're right and I was feeling all mushy. So what? Gonna gloat? Tease? Act all big?" The words left Surge sounding stammery and dumb to her ears. The wolf was unphased. If anything, the smile got warmer.
"No gloating. That's your expertise." Whisper reached up a hand, two clawed fingers hooking into the neckline of the borrowed t-shirt the girl atop her wore. Surge felt them sift into her neckfluff as they tugged on her. It wasn't hard or forceful, yet the tenrec felt her body acquiesce all the same.
Face to face, nose to nose. The memory of the first time they had done this months ago ran through the speedster's mind. Whisper's voice was soft as a summer shadow: "It just makes me feel more confident that I let you in."
Surge's mouth felt dry, and her words felt useless, so she decided to use it for kissing instead of talking.