Work Text:
on the twelfth day of switzerland (my true love gave to me)
Ava wakes up alone.
This isn’t anything new, of course; she could count on one hand how often Beatrice was still in bed by the time Ava wakes herself, but there’s still always a pang of disappointment. Beatrice is never quite as relaxed (or at all) awake as she is asleep, never quite as soft or warm. Ava likes those rare days when she wakes up before their alarm goes off, those days where Ava resists the urge to go back to sleep and takes the chance to admire the girl in her arms.
Beatrice is a surprisingly cuddly sleeper, and Ava thinks it’s adorable. Sure it’s usually—always—Ava who initiates it, but every morning brings Beatrice wrapped even more tightly around Ava, and that just gives her a lot of feelings. Hence the disappointment when she wakes up to a cold bed.
But as she lays there for a moment, blinking the sleep out of her eyes and trying to fight the small pang of missing something, she realizes what had woken her in the first place.
There’s a smell emanating through the open door of their bedroom; one that, if anything, causes Ava’s stomach to clench with nostalgia. She doesn’t even know if she’d ever had pancakes when she was still with her mom, but the association is instant. The confusion is next.
Beatrice is making breakfast. They’ve both cooked for each other before, of course, but neither of them are particularly good at it (which is one of Ava’s favorite Beatrice Facts) and they typically just order in for meals, eating various fruits for breakfast. This is new.
Ava wonders when they’d gone and gotten married and where she was for that.
“Good morning,” Beatrice says when she enters the room, without turning around or taking her eyes off the pan in front of her. “I’m making breakfast.”
“I can see that.” Ava shakes the rest of the grogginess out of her eyes, making her way over to observe the pancake-making with great interest. If that happens to mean getting up on her tiptoes to lean her chin across Beatrice’s shoulder, then neither of them mention it. “Those all smell really good.”
Something flashes across Beatrice’s face, but she’s still half-turned away and Ava can’t quite catch it. “Yes,” she says quickly. “Well. Don’t check the trash can outside if you want to keep believing that.”
That makes more sense. Ava had been delighted to learn over the past week or so that Beatrice was even worse than Ava when it comes to food preparation, something that she’s been sure to hold over her head for as long as possible. It makes Beatrice seem more human, though she doesn’t seem to agree.
“What’s the occasion?” Ava asks, leaning back to let her breathe. She stays close, though, finding a comfortable position with her back up against the counter. She watches Beatrice work, admiring the frustrated twinge in her brow when she fails to flip a pancake.
“What’s the—” Beatrice looks up, that twinge in her forehead vanishing to make way for something even more confused. “Ava, you don’t know?”
“Know what?” Ava worries the inside of her cheek with her tongue, suddenly concerned that she’s forgotten something important. “It’s not, like, Christmas or something, is it?”
She’s pretty sure it’s July. Like, very certain it’s July. She has no idea when (it doesn’t really matter, not when her life has boiled down to this very little and comforting existence in the Alps), but it’s certainly not December.
But now she’s got Beatrice moving; she gives the pancakes one last once-over before she’s crossing the room to the tiny calendar she’d pinned to the wall. She squints at it for a worryingly long time, even considering how small the print is. If she’s going to be this stressed about it, Ava wonders if she shouldn't have just played along like she knew all along.
“Bea?”
Beatrice turns back around to face her, concern apparent in her face. “Ava,” she says, slowly, “forgive me if I’m wrong, but—is today not your twentieth birthday?”
Oh.
Ava’s mouth falls open as she processes what Beatrice had just said, her synapses firing weakly as she tries to wrap her head around it. It’s July. July fifteenth; it must be, Beatrice wouldn’t have gotten that wrong. Her birthday must have been in the file that Sister Frances had given them, so of course Beatrice had noticed.
Birthdays at St. Michaels were never really a special thing, especially for a girl who couldn’t get out of bed. Diego had always celebrated with her, but Ava can’t remember if she’d even got a cupcake for her nineteenth. She certainly never would have expected Beatrice to do something for her, though she should have. Beatrice is a perfectionist in everything, and for some blissful, unknown reason, Ava is now often the target of that focus. She’s overwhelmed.
“I—hadn’t realized,” she croaks. “I’ve never really had anyone make me breakfast for my birthday.” There’s a lot she isn’t saying, but Beatrice seems to understand.
“Well, go get changed and brush your teeth,” Beatrice says affectionately, heading back over to the stove to check up on her food. “We’ve got to eat and then get going if we want to keep to schedule.”
Beatrice made a schedule for Ava’s birthday. Ava doesn’t know how to speak around the sudden lump in her throat, so she just steps forward and hugs her. Beatrice stiffens. Her hands come up—one of them still holding the spatula—and she pats Ava’s shoulders, unbearably awkward but endearingly soft. Then, after a few seconds, “Ava, the pancakes are going to burn.”
“I know,” Ava mumbles, burrowing her nose into the crook of Beatrice’s neck. She inhales deep, delighting in the scent of her. “Just give me a minute.”
She holds on for a few more breaths before finally tearing herself away, catching an indulgent fondness in the curve of Beatrice’s smile when she leans back. “I’m going, I’m going,” Ava says as Beatrice opens her mouth again. She starts to back away, hoping she doesn’t bump into anything hard. “You’d better have three pancakes on my plate by the time I’m out of that bathroom!”
Ava dresses quickly, brushes her teeth even quicker. She’s back in the kitchen in record time, wearing her favorite (low-cut, because she likes the way Beatrice tries to avoid looking at it) tanktop and a pair of skinny jeans.
They eat breakfast in comfortable silence—as in: Ava tries to ask where they’re going and Beatrice shuts her down—and the pancakes, whether they’re Beatrice’s third or eighth or twelfth try, are delicious. Beatrice doesn't even scold her when she dumps an obscene amount of syrup on them, though Ava can tell she wants to.
Ava eats three pancakes. Beatrice eats one. They have some left over—Beatrice had made a lot, probably anticipating throwing a few away—and Beatrice dutifully packages them away into the tiny little fridge, saying, “The walk to where we’re going is about twenty minutes. Are you ready?”
Ava says, “Hell yes,” and Beatrice doesn’t even scold her language.
Outside of their apartment is a beautiful day; it’s hot but not scorchingly so, and Ava skips as she walks, keeping up with Beatrice’s longer, steady strides easily. She doesn’t ask where they’re going again—Beatrice wouldn’t give it up, she knows that—and they walk just the same way they’d eaten; Ava silently basking in her presence. This little town really may be the most beautiful place on earth.
Beatrice takes her to the theater.
The theater. Like, a real theater, with posters and popcorn and sticky seats. It’s tiny like everything else in this town, with barely three screens squeezed into the largest area of it, but Ava loves it immediately. The lobby is wide and red-carpeted, has exactly two employees (neither of which look excited to see them) and smells deeply, almost nauseatingly, of popcorn. It’s so strong that this time Ava can’t tell if she loves or hates it immediately, but then she inhales twice, gets used to it, and quickly decides on love.
Being a fairly random weekday and before noon the place is practically deserted, and so Beatrice is able to get their tickets without a problem, Ava just along for the ride. It’s not until Beatrice has them in hand does she finally pull Ava over to the wall of posters, singling out the one they’ll be watching.
“The Invisible Man,” Ava says, reading the summary underneath the poster. “After staging his own death, a crazy scientist uses his power to become invisible to stalk and terrorize his ex-girlfriend. When the police refuse to believe her story, she decides to take matters into her own hands and fight back on her own.” She looks up, delighted. “Bea, did you take me to a see a horror movie?”
“I was trying to think of what the nuns at your orphanage wouldn’t have let you see,” Beatrice replies, avoiding her gaze. “If you don’t want to watch this one, we can always see something el—”
“I want to watch this one.” Ava’s smiling so hard it almost hurts. “I’ve never seen a real horror movie. Do you think it’ll really be scary?”
“If it’s too much, we can always leave early,” Beatrice assures her. “Whatever you want.”
Ava shrugs. “Surely it can’t be scarier than our real life,” she says, taking care to lower her voice just in case. “And I’ll just hold onto you if I need to. Foolproof!” Then she says, admiring the small blush that’d spread over Beatrice’s cheeks, “Hey, I wonder if the dude saw himself becoming like that beforehand.”
Beatrice frowns at her, all traces of embarrassment gone. “If you’re going to make more of those, then I’m not sure you need to see the film at all.”
She calls it a film. Ava has a big fucking crush on someone who calls movies films. There’s something to be said for her taste.
“Okay, I’ll stop.” She won’t. “When does it start? Can we get popcorn?”
“We just ate breakfast not a half-hour ago,” Beatrice says, looking faintly alarmed.
“Right, but I need more calories, yeah? Because of the Halo’s energy?” Ava hopes Beatrice can’t tell she’s pulling this entirely out of her ass. She might, but she still considers the idea, tipping her head to the side (Ava tries really, really hard not to look at her jawline, but then decides she deserves it—it’s her birthday—and ogles anyway).
Then Beatrice says, “I suppose we can get popcorn,” and Ava physically has to stop herself from jumping up and down like a little kid.
“Yes! Let me see their sizes,” she says, heading towards the popcorn stand, and Beatrice follows her quickly.
“Wait, Ava, I don’t think we need anything bigger than a small—”
By the time they’re seated for the movie, Ava with her large popcorn and Beatrice holding the drink for her, she’s nearly vibrating out of her seat excited for it. They have good seats—again, random timing—and the screen is so much bigger than Ava had expected. She says, “Is this not the biggest tv you’ve ever seen?” and Beatrice replies, quietly, “Ava, this is a smaller one.”
Woah, she thinks. I want to go to them all.
The movie itself is incredible. Ava thinks part of that is probably because this is her first time sitting down for one, but she finds herself rather obsessed. She’s always been fairly good at picking out plot twists and narrative moments, but she tries to keep them to herself, whispering, “Oh that asshole! He’s lying,” or “Just believe her! It can’t be that crazy!” or “He’s right behind you!”
She thinks she catches Beatrice laughing at her comments at some point, and that only makes her raise her voice a little louder. They’re practically the only ones in here anyway, it’s fine.
That ability to understand plot beats comes in handy when it comes time for the jumpscares. There aren’t a lot of them, the movie mainly focusing on small moments of more subtle terror, but there is one that Ava thinks, half a second before it happens, Oh, shit, and then it’s Beatrice who ends up jolting in her seat.
It’s fucking cute is what it is, and if Ava presses her shoulder into Beatrice’s even though she hadn’t been startled by it at all, well, no one’s going to call her out on it.
They emerge from the movie changed people—at least Ava does—and it’s nearing 3pm. They’ve missed lunch; Ava’d eaten most of the popcorn by herself, but she’s starting to get hungry again (maybe that bullshit she’d been spinning about the Halo does have a ring of truth to it), and when she asks, “Where to next, pal?” she’s delighted when the answer is, “Dinner.”
It’s a bit early for dinner but that’s not a problem; Beatrice takes her to a restaurant—Weidstübli, it’s called—and as soon as they’re inside, they’re directed to a small table in one of the corners. There are so many options that Ava’s not sure what to pick, but she eventually decides on the Veal ‘Adrio’ (mostly because it’s something she’s never had before) and Beatrice orders a Pumpkin Risotto.
“What did you think of the film?” Beatrice asks when they’re waiting for their food. “Personally I thought there wasn’t much of a mystery to it.”
Ava shakes her head. “The mystery wasn’t the point, Bea. The point was that Cecilia was trying to function in a world that, for one: didn’t believe a word she said, and for two: had someone who was actively trying to murder her slash drive her crazy. The point was that Cecilia was someone whose kindness was taken advantage of and punished for it.” She smiles as she leans back into her chair, delighting in the way Beatrice’s eyes hasn't left her form.
“And the ending?”
“The ending was perfect,” Ava says. “She got her revenge. That’s all that matters.”
“I suppose I hadn’t thought about it that way,” Beatrice admits, gaze flicking away. “I don’t often watch films.”
Ava smiles, waiting until Beatrice has once again met her eyes before she replies. “Well, maybe we should watch more of them together. Not necessarily go to the theater—though I wouldn’t be opposed to going back—but we’ve got a tv in the apartment. I’m sure there’s got to be a way to rent some DVDs somewhere around here, right?”
“Ava,” Beatrice says, “I hardly know what a DVD is.”
“Then I’ll show you!” Ava leans forward, resting her forearms on the table. “You’ve shown me so many things since we met, so let me show you this. I have so many movies I want you to watch.” Prince of Egypt, Joan of Arc, Little Women, She thinks. I want to see what you think of The Wizard of Oz, of Enchanted. I want to know what you think about everything.
She thinks, maybe, that this day had not been great for her crush. Or it’d been impossibly great: whichever way she wants to look at it.
Their food comes before Beatrice can respond (but Ava thinks she’d pretty much replied already; the way she’d smiled at Ava had been enough of a response than anything else). It’s delicious, of course, the perfect meal to the end of a perfect day, and Ava’s so full by the end of it that she feels she could roll home.
Ava’s positive when they start climbing the stairs to their little apartment that the day is over, that the already phenomenal day can’t be improved on, but she’s proven wrong when Beatrice goes right past their floor—the third—and continues heading upstairs. Ava falters, and Beatrice turns to look back at her.
“Come on,” she says lightly, a tinge of amusement in her gaze, “the stars are more than out by now.”
The stars? Ava nearly trips in her excitement to follow her. She doesn’t, thankfully, and they make their way up to the roof of the building without incident.
Even with the sun having gone down it’s not too cold out, though Beatrice does stop by a pile of bricks and hand Ava a light jacket she must’ve smuggled up here in the recent days. She’d planned this all to a T, and Ava finds herself blinking away tears for what had to be the fourth time today. She accepts the jacket with a smile and finds that it’s one of Beatrice’s own, delightfully big on her.
They lay down on top of a blanket that Ava hadn’t realized had disappeared from their apartment; Ava rests her head close enough to be touching Beatrice’s shoulder, and she doesn’t pull away. “Are you going to tell me where the Big and Little Dippers are now?” Ava asks, unable to resist the tease.
“What makes you think I know where they are?”
“You know everything,” Ava says, and there’s far too much warmth dripping into her voice, but she can’t stop it, doesn’t want to. “Am I wrong in assuming?”
Beatrice sighs, not a lick of actual irritation to be found. “You are not. Now, if you—” she sighs again when Ava giggles. “Do you want me to tell you?”
“Yes, yes, please go ahead,” Ava says, wiggling closer because she can. “Go on!”
And Beatrice does.
Ava doesn’t know how long they’re out there for, but it’s not a short amount of time; she stays quiet, mostly, listening to Beatrice talk about the stars and the constellations, letting her point planets out if they’re in view. It’s nice being able to shut off her brain for a little bit and just listen to Beatrice’s voice. She has a really nice voice. But they can’t stay like that forever, no matter how much Ava may want to.
“One more thing.”
“Beatrice sits up—Ava whines as her head is dislodged—and Ava follows her, criss-crossing her leg as Beatrice turns to dig something out from underneath a corner of the blanket. It’s a small box, blue in color, and Beatrice presents it to her with an exhale that sounds almost shaky. Ava can’t imagine why she’s so nervous.
She also can’t imagine why she deserves a present, after this incredible day. “Beatrice,” she says, “you really didn’t have to—”
“It’s your birthday,” Beatrice insists, placing the box firmly in Ava’s hand. Their fingers brush, and Ava tries not to shiver. “And you—deserve nice things,” she says, leaning back to clear her throat. “Plus, this is the first birthday where I’m celebrating with you. I had to go all out. Just open it,” she goes on, and Ava realizes that Beatrice is rambling. “I have to know if you want me to return it or not.”
Ava already knows she’s never giving it up, whatever it is. Not after it’s Beatrice who’s given it to her, not after the adorable show of herself she’s just made now. She’s beyond beautiful in the moonlight, and Ava tries to remember how to breathe.
She opens the box with hands that are only shaking slightly—hopefully not enough for Beatrice to notice—and moves aside the paper in the interior in order to get at the actual item. It’s small, thin with a slightly heavier end, and Ava inhales sharply when she pulls it free, holding it up for the light of the moon to shine on it.
The thing is a necklace; a small one with a thin black cord and a simple pearl that hangs down in the middle. It’s small and light and Ava loves it, loves it more than anything else she’s ever owned.
“I can always have it exchanged if you’d like a different one,” Beatrice says in a rush. “Or—if you’d like something else entirely. It wasn’t that much, so I don’t even need to get the money bac—”
Ava cuts her off with a hug. She holds her even tighter than she had this morning, pouring every single thing she’s feeling into the way she clutches Beatrice’s shoulders, the way she breathes into her neck. “I love it,” she says, murmuring praises into Beatrice’s bun. “I’m—overwhelmed, really. Thank you.”
Beatrice is still for a long moment, but when her arms come up to return the hug, Ava swears it's the warmest place on earth.
Then Ava pulls back and says, “Put it on for me?”
She is absolutely capable of clasping the thing herself, but this is much more fun: Beatrice sweeping her (recently cut!) hair off the back of her neck, exposing her nape to the night. Ava shivers again. Beatrice’s arms settle around Ava’s shoulders, bringing the necklace to rest high on her throat, and Ava has exactly one minute to consider regretting this decision before Beatrice’s fingers are on her neck.
Ava thinks she might die, actually. It takes Beatrice maybe five seconds max to clasp the damn thing, but Ava’s pretty sure she’s going to have the imprint of Beatrice’s hand on the back of her neck forever, considering how much heat had shot down her spine. Necklace safely on, Ava turns around to grin back at her, giddy in a way she can’t explain.
“Well? How do I look?”
Beatrice’s eyes linger on the necklace for two whole seconds before they make the climb back to Ava’s face. Ava loves it even more instantly just for that reason.
She smiles, then, an incredible softness in her face, and she says, “It looks wonderful on you.”
“Thank you. This whole day has been—” Ava shakes her head. “Unreal is a word for it. To say that I was surprised… well. This was completely unforeseen.”
“Ava,” Beatrice says, deadpan, “was that a The Invisible Man pun?”
“That was a The Invisible Man pun,” Ava admits shamelessly, enchanted by the way Beatrice’s face twitches as she shakes her head, resisting the urge to laugh. Beatrice’s laughs are often silent, caught on the way she squints her eyes or tenses her jaw, and Ava loves seeing them almost as much as she does hearing the real thing.
“Well, you’re twenty now,” Beatrice says leadingly, lips quirking in one of her little half-smiles. “Do you feel any different than when you were nineteen?”
Ava was paralyzed when she was nineteen. Ava had one friend, had nun-approved tv and books, had nothing but the promise of a miserable life. She had her snark and then she had the Halo and her legs. Ava had J.C for a time, when she was nineteen. Had liked him a lot. Hadn’t loved him.
(As it turns out, Mary was right about a lot of things.)
Now Ava’s twenty and she has friends. She’s lost things, yes, but she’s gained so much more. Ava’s twenty and she has superpowers and she has friends and she has someone who trains her, who looks at her like she’s everything. Ava’s twenty and this time she is in love, she’s sure of it, and she thinks Mary would be, too.
So if her responding smile is a little sappy, a little lovestruck, then that’s okay, because Beatrice isn’t going to notice anyway. Ava says, “Everything’s different,” and her voice comes out so light that she hardly recognizes it.
Beatrice smiles back at her, eyes softening so much that Ava can hardly stand it. “Good,” she says, because she understands. “I’m glad.”
They go back inside at some point, though Ava’s sure it’s already later than when Beatrice typically goes to bed. They take turns showering, Beatrice sets her usual alarm for the next day, and she says, one final time, “Happy birthday, Ava.”
Ava almost kisses her, she really does. She doesn’t, but that’s probably just because she literally isn’t able to budge from her spot on the bed. Stupid emotions, all welling up in her chest and choking her.
That night, Beatrice doesn’t even stiffen when Ava goes to put her arms around her. Usually she does. Usually Ava tries to wait until she’s at least half-asleep, until most of her thinking brain has turned off and she’s willing enough to let Ava wrap herself around her. This time, though, Ava has a feeling she’ll let her indulge herself and she’s right; Beatrice allows herself to be pulled into Ava’s embrace without a single word. Ava settles herself with her head leaning against Beatrice’s collarbone, and she relaxes back into her with a sigh.
Ava can’t wait for her next birthday. She’s only known Beatrice for a month at best, and she gets an entire swoon-worthy day out of it. Imagine what she’ll prepare for her next year. Wow.
.
.
.
“Wait, Bea, when’s yours?”