Room 505, Thursday Evening

[thismaskiwear]

Another day of work down, another day closer to graduation, and would that she knew better it wasn't as if there was anyone coming to see her graduate; anyone who might make that list, who wasn't already here, was dead

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[thatsamilkshake]

Francine was not contemplating pushed-together beds. She hadn't even reached that part of the evening's entertainment yet. She was still on mountains of unwashed clothes and a room that smelled like angry zombie sock and how she didn't want to deal with her mother's reaction to either.

Oh, she wasn't unaware of the other. She was just chanting laundry laundry laundry not so under her breath so she could pretend not to be thinking of the other, as she walked back in with an overflowing basket of April-fresh clothes.

And dumped them on the pushed-together beds. "Folding is now."

[thismaskiwear]

Clocky wheeled out of the way insanely fast; Katchoo turned to look at Francine. "Folding now, furniture rearranging later?" She leaned over and took a good whiff of the basket. "Ah, bless you, disgustingly cuddly fabric softener bear. Your sacrifice wasn't in vain."

[thatsamilkshake]

Francine studied the bed... beds... not entirely happily, and reached for the shirt on the top of the pile. "Obviously. There's laundry on the bed now. You can't rearrange furniture with laundry on it."

[thismaskiwear]

"Unless you want to leave 'em this way," Katchoo said carefully. "But if your family's coming . . ."

[thatsamilkshake]

She stared pointedly at the sleeves she was lining up. "My mom. Just my mom. It's finals week for Benjamin." And I'm too fucking lazy to colorize icons for a guy who appears in two issues. See how she didn't answer the question at all? No? That's 'cause she's smooth. Smooth operator.

[thismaskiwear]

Katchoo didn't have too much love to spare for Francine's brother anyhow. "And your mom is going to see the room looking how, exactly, Francie?"

Totally smooth, meet blunt hammer.

[thatsamilkshake]

Fold. Smooth. set it aside. Pick up another. Try to remember which parts of it are the arms.

Realize it's a pair of jeans.

Sit down on a pile of socks.

"How... how do you want her to see it?"

[thismaskiwear]

Katchoo could have started pulling the socks out of the pile one by one, but rather than do that she picked up a pair of jeans and made a pretty sorry attempt at folding them.

"Me? I'd rather not have to move 'em at all, but she's your mom, Francie. If you're ready for that, then I'm ready to say screw it, leave 'em where they are."

If not -- that option wasn't so appealing as to tempt her to mention it out loud.

[thatsamilkshake]

Oh, sure, throw it back on her just because it was her mom and her tiny, tiny issues with religion, repression, and wanting to please her family so much that for a long time she not only couldn't draw the line between what they expected and what she wanted, she'd have stood and stared at you if you tried to convince her there could be such a thing.

"I don't..." Know. Know what to say to her even if I did know. Know how she's going to react, though I can guess.

Francine set the jeans aside and looked at the wide expanse of bed. "We don't have to move it tonight."

[thismaskiwear]

Katchoo moved over to wrap her in a hug. "I won't ask you to do more than you're ready to do, Francine, but I hate to see you hurting yourself, either. And keeping secrets --" Her hand drifted briefly down to her side, weird little tic she'd developed. "Doesn't always hurt that literally, but just as much."

[thatsamilkshake]

Francine dropped her head to Katchoo's shoulder and maybe clung just a little. "I know. I want... I want to talk to her about it. I want her to be happy, but I don't think she will be."

[thismaskiwear]

Have some clinging right on back, Francine. "What would you do if she wasn't?" asked Katchoo, voice cracking just a little. Why was she flashing back to Ethics class and the lady-or-the-tiger question? Which was stupid, she knew, or liked to think, but she had no illusions that this was going to be an easy or clean-cut kind of situation.

. . . it was a little stressful.

[thatsamilkshake]

"I don't know," Francine admitted.

Then thought, really thought for once in her life about how that sounded, and wrapped her fingers tight in the hair tangling over her hand.

"I don't know what I'd do with her. Not you."