maisey slobbers over her rubber ball at their feet. parker threw it a couple times on their way into the park, but now she's not going anywhere near it. if she can convince her to drop it longer than .1 second, she'll kick it, but avery should be here any minute. 

"huh?" she says, lifting her gaze from her adorable pink fur baby and up to her adorable pink haired baby. 

"oh, i told her the important parts. your eyeballs won't scare her or whatever. she'll probs think they're cool. but i told her how hot you are and also how smart, but i think she's like, 'well how smart can she be' because she's the smart one, not me, y'know? but like uber duber smart and oh, hey, there she is. 

"SIS! WE'RE OVER HERE, FUCKO!"

a waspish mother shoots them a dirty look and shepherds her kid away from them. 

Naomi Sato avery jones

☉

Fashionably late, as always.

Or, well, she slept through her alarm, then got up and chucked her mood stabilizers all over the counter because she was trying to open the bottle with one hand while zooting Flonase up her nostrils at the same time. Then she had to fight Stank for them and she feels pretty certain she’d stopped the Pikachu from inhaling too many Lexapro.

Oh well. If she was dead when Avery got home, so be it.

Her head whips round at her sister’s call, braids snapping so hard they crack against her shoulders (“Ow.”) She fishes for some Pokeballs, releasing her Skuntank and Igglybuff-- the former of which promptly picks up the latter in her mouth, producing a squeaking noise when she bites down slightly-- and allows them to dart off into the throng of Pokemon and make merry.

Everyone cries and runs away from the putrid canid.

“YEAH, YEAH, I’M FUCKING COMING, DON’T GET YOUR PANTIES IN A TWIST. Hi, honey, how are ya?” she asks, winking at the waspy mom and expediting her hurry away.

She kicks over to her sister and her sisters wifey in muddy Converse. “Oh, wow, look at us. Three lesbians and not a natural hair-color in sight.” She holds out her sleeve-covered hand. “Hi, I’m Avery.”

parker jones Naomi Sato

☉

maisey absolutely loses her fucking mind when she hears the sound of avery's voice. the ball is completely forgotten as she hastily gets to her feet, slobber dribbling down both sides of her mouth. her rump wriggles so hard parker thinks she might dislocate her hips and when she nears, she barrels through nomi's handshake with a shoulder-clapping hug. 

"yeah, i'unno if i want my sis callin' you babe, nomes," parker teases. 

she doesn't notice the awkward lull. she's too happy to see the two of them standing next to each other. like worlds colliding. it makes her realize just how fucking empty she's been without her sis. nomi's perfect, but ave's blood and ain't nothing can replace that. 

"mhm, this is kowabunga," she says, steel-blue eyes flickering up to the shiny eye. "and oh my god, please pet mais before she absolutely loses her shit." 

avery jones Naomi Sato

☉

The first thing that Avery pings about Nomi is that she, like the rest of them, has no goddamn idea what she’s doing.

In a good way! In the best way.

Avery had been concerned Nomi would’ve been a hedged-off know-it-all, prissy and frosty and holier-than-thou. But she runs her mouth without meaning just like the rest of them. She says things she wishes she hadn’t, just like the rest of them.

She’s good people.

“I hope they’re nicer and sexier than what she calls me,” Avery says, mouth curling into the first genuine smile she’s had in ages. She turns on a heel to greet Maisey, slender fingers finding familiar facial folds, wet with drool. She flaps them lovingly, familiarly.

“I calls you babe, doe, right, babes?” she oozes, wubba-wubba-wubbaing the bulldog’s face, breaking out of it easily to snap, “don’t worry, I got it,” in an equally as familiar, loving fashion, the one-two switch of how their relationship flows, back and forth and back again, like the moon and the tides and easy, known, trodden.

Like Parker coming into her room for no reason and laying on her, holding her down while Avery wails and thrashes. Like Avery snapping hairbands at Parker from across the room until one hits home and they’re crashing through the house. Like Parker eating Avery’s leftovers and Avery eating Parker’s leftovers and this eternal, swirling spiral, this fibonacci daydream of how things used to be, how they are, how they will never change no matter how much blood gums up the gears.

She keeps her hands on Maisey’s face for grounding, unsure of what she’s expecting as she looks up into the shiny blue eyeball. It’s… less intimidating, than she imagined.

“They’re cute! I expected… more tentacles? For some reason?” she waggles her fingers as though to illustrate. “Did you get the valentines candy? I hope that was okay.”

parker jones Naomi Sato

☉

she is, by all accounts, completely oblivious to nomi's fidgeting and bumbling on account of any jealousy or existential trauma. she notices enough to raise a brow at her, but then she squats down right next to avery while she squeezes maisey's perfect chubby cheeks and pushes the pupper down. 

she whines, exposes her belly for the not-so-secret-secret belly rubs and nips playfully at the toes of avery's shoes. 

"oh right. i forgot to tell ya 'bout the ciders ave sent. ave, nomes used to own a brewery." then real life and saving the world and every other bullshit got in the way of that, but y'know, that part can remain unsaid.

"'kay, so i'm starvin' 'n sloppy sam's is still around." she jerks her chin real quick over to nomi. "best chili dogs in town an' their fries? slap. then was thinkin' maybe we'd stop by the candy shop?"

avery jones Naomi Sato

☉

Avery sits back in the dirt, slobber smeared palms making mud that sticks to her skin. She didn’t know exactly what reaction she’d been expecting so Nomi’s slightly fumbled admission that the valentine’s gift was tolerable didn’t rankle her as much, maybe, as it should have. She had, after all, purchased something on a whim for someone she’d never met and only knew through the lens of her sister’s often-blacked eyes.

She’s rubbing slightly dirty handprints into Maisey’s belly as Parker continues to sing Nomi’s praises.

“Oh, neat!” she chirps, genuinely excited. She opens her mouth to say I once left an old glass in my room so long it grew mold that may have been yeast or something and then shut it again, because no one really needs to know that, so she asks, “What got you into brewing?” instead, as she stands up and wipes her hands off on her pants.

“Sloppy Sams sounds great. Me want trashcan fries.” But the mention of the candy shop makes her pause. What little color she has in her face drains.

“...Sal still around?”

parker jones Naomi Sato

☉

nostalgia wraps around nomi in a different way it does parker. she thinks fondly back on honey-colored memories with her grandmother and when avery looks at parker like she's seen a ghost, parker is treated to a rapid-fire snapshot of their own bittersweet history, stained sepia. 

hands in the candy jar, legs swinging off the counter, an old man's drawn face while he sutured her skin back together. nights curled up on the floor, then on an air mattress, then a cot in the garage, promises of this isn't permanent, kids, but knowing that was a half-lie. 

"yeah," she says, "yeah, 'e is. devoted wholly to the candy business now, s'posedly." 

parker slings her arm around nomi's waist and starts wheeling their ragtag procession over to the next street. maisey dutifully picks up her ball and carries it in her mouth, chewing it as though it were bubblegum. 

"sal," parker confirms and scratches her neck with her other hand. "'ve brought sweets home from 'im before. he's the alfred to our batman 'n robin, but like, ten million years old."

the mouthwatering smell of grease and grease and more grease hits the roof of her mouth as they near the rundown brick building with a takeout window. they're busy as all fuck and the line's long 'cause everyone in slateport knows sloppy sam makes love to these potatoes. 

avery jones Naomi Sato

☉

Say what you want about the Joneses. They couldn’t get a read on a person if they were inside that person’s own skin.

A large part of it is survival. You wall yourself off from threats (people, generally, being the biggest). In the shaping of it, you become a blunt object. Your brain is used for other things (Avery can tell you how to kill a person in about 52 different ways, but social cues? Bunk.)

“Oh, wow! That sounds really neat. Was it a family thing? Those get passed down, right? Shrines, I mean.” she thought about what she knew from some really awful books.

She doesn’t say anything when Parker confirms that Sal is still around and kicking. Because now she has to go look at the guy who gave her nickels for her baby teeth and tell him she was a war criminal.

Well. She didn’t have to tell him. But all of her felt so paper thin at times she was sure anyone could see through it.

“Have you been to Sloppy Sam’s, Nomi?” she asks, instead, pointing to the menu. “They make a pretty good burger, too. Or burger dog. Which is a hotdog with cheeseburger toppings. Which you probably… coulda guessed.”

parker jones Naomi Sato

☉

parker can fuck up a burger chili dog any day of the year. she's got a stomach of iron, but she'll crash as soon as she sits her ass down. gorging on sam's means having the bestest, sweatiest nap afterward. gods, it's heavenly. 

the line moves fast. they know what they're doing. and by the time they're up at the counter, parker's ordering for the whole gang. her mouth waters as she prattles off avery's basket, an assload of fries, nomi's meal, her own three meals, and a side of chicken nuggies for maisey, and extra extra burg sauce. 

"shrine for what, nomes?" she asks curiously 'cause she's pretty clueless. not to the eyeballs, surely. nomi's love for them came later. 

she slaps a drink cup into both their hands and then goes about getting some sprite and cheerwine in her own. mmm, sugar.

avery jones Naomi Sato

☉