Chapter Text
It’s been a couple of days. They passed each other in the hallways once or twice without a word, hardly even a glance held for longer than a heartbeat.
Three had wanted to speak to her. Their tongue sat heavy in their mouth every time she came into view in fear of not knowing how to say I’m sorry in a way that wouldn’t come out wrong.
Now it’s night. And they’re lying in bed, hands folded over their stomach, staring at the ceiling waiting for something, anything. Nothing happens. Thankfully, something does come eventually, just in the form of a phone call and not the silhouette of an Octoling in their doorway.
Their phone buzzes—a video call. It’s Cuttlefish. They answer quickly.
The screen jolts into focus. Cuttlefish, decked out in a painfully bright tropical shirt, fumbles with the camera.
“Three! Hello! Sorry, I’m not entirely sure how this works. Still getting used to this thing.”
Callie and Marie insist that he carries a phone on him given he’s wandered off multiple times now. Eventually the camera levels out, giving a shaky view of a vivid, night time city skyline behind him.
“Cuttlefish, hey. Where are you?”
“Oh! Right. I should’ve started with that. I’m in a place called Splatsville.” He swings the camera to give a panoramic view of the street, crowded and alive. “It’s in the Splatlands. Thought it was high time I saw it for myself.”
Splatsville. The Splatlands. They know that name. The Splatlands never saw the war, never divided people into enemies. Octarians and Inklings coexisted there like it was the most natural thing in the world. Cuttlefish was the one that told them that.
“They play Turf War here too,” he adds cheerily. “Apparently it’s been gaining traction in these parts. Fascinating stuff!”
Three smiles weakly. “That’s great. I’ll have to come check it out for myself sometime.”
But behind the smile is disbelief.
A year ago, he wouldn’t have stepped foot in a place like that. Would’ve called it enemy territory. And there he was, on a coddamn vacation.
Their heart twists.
Eight.
They need to apologize.
“Anyway, I just wanted to check in. The girls mentioned you and Eight are working on helping those, uh, what was the word? Sanitized! Yes, sanitized Octarians.”
“Oh, um. Yeah. I’m surprised they told you.”
He chuckles. “Well, I may not be Captain anymore, but I am your supervisor. They said you’ve made great progress. I knew I made the right choice picking you.”
Three rubs at their eyes, swallowing down something that feels suspiciously like tears. “Thanks, Cuttlefish.”
“And say hi to Eight, would you? I’d call her myself, but I don’t have her contact information.”
Their chest tightens. Still, they nod. “Will do.”
His smile is soft now, fading at the edges. “Good talking to you, Three. Keep in touch, yeah?”
The screen goes dark.
Three sits still for all of ten seconds before they’re up and moving to their door. Their hand finds the doorknob almost blindly. They pause, gut twisting with nerves and too much thought. They wonder if they should think more about this, if this is the right thing to do, if she even wants to see them.
They swallow their fear, and step into the hallway, coming face to face with Eight’s door.
A breath, then a knock.
Eight opens the door almost immediately, like she’d been standing just on the other side, waiting.
Her face is unreadable. Her eyes meet theirs, and whatever words Three had lined up get caught in their throat. Their mouth opens and closes like a fish.
Eight’s brow lifts just slightly. “Would you like to come in?”
They nod, grateful for the invitation and the chance to catch their breath, even if it feels like stepping into a confessional.
Her room is dim. The glow of a desk lamp being the only source of light.
Three turns to face her. She’s standing with arms crossed, brows drawn tight, gaze heavy. They can’t pinpoint it, but there’s a hint of regret behind her eyes, and in the creases of her face.
“I don’t know if you should be here,” she says, but Three can’t tell if she means it.
“I know, I know, just…” they pause, “please, hear me out.” They take a shaky breath. “I’m sorry, Eight.”
Eight’s face relaxes ever so slightly, they continue. “You were right, there were ways we could’ve gone around that situation, less violently than I had handled it. And I never should have assumed you wouldn’t have been able to handle yourself without me there. I know you can.”
Eight is looking at them now, really looking at them.
“The sanitized Octarians are still people, and they do need help. I shouldn’t have treated them like lost causes and I’m sorry for that.” They feel tears pricking the corner of their eyes. “Not that it’s a great excuse but there’s so many things I’m trying to unlearn and I know I still have more work to do but I…” they hesitate. “I care about you, I care about Marina, I care about all of the Octarians that still can’t escape…” another pause. “I care about you. I would never forgive myself if you had gotten hurt. I—”
Suddenly, Eight’s lips crash against their own. It’s messy, but filled with feeling.
“I’m sorry too,” they pull away to say, just to plant another quick kiss on the corner of their eye, on the scarred side of their face. “I shouldn’t have assumed we would have gotten out of there safely without some form of resistance.” Another kiss on their cheek. “But I didn’t doubt for a second that you didn’t care about me.” Another kiss on the corner of their mouth. “I’m just so happy I wasn’t wrong about it.”
Eight’s hands come to rest on either side of Three’s head, and the Inkling themself is stunned. Eight’s soft smile twists downward. “Tell me I wasn’t wrong.”
She isn’t. She’s the furthest thing from wrong. They just have to let her know, more than they already have. Their hands find their way to her face, cupping it, as they press their lips to hers again. They taste the saltiness of tears, though they can’t tell who they’re from. They only part to breathe, hands moving up and down faces, necks, waists, hips, like they’re each other’s tether to the world.
“Tell me to stop,” Eight asks, practically breathless.
“Never.”
Eventually Three pushes her to the wall, as her hands fumble with the hem of their shirt. They’re hesitant, but eventually give her permission to pull it up over their head, revealing their scarred skin. She doesn’t stop kissing them, as her hands explore every inch of them, scars and all. She doesn’t even hesitate at the raised, pink-ish flesh that Three had agonized over for so long.
They didn’t realize how much they had wanted this. That feeling in their stomach every time they were with her finally made sense, and they couldn’t be more grateful.
Eight steps to the side, seemingly trying to guide them to the bed that was conveniently right beside them. Instead of gracefully moving the two of them down to the bed’s surface, they trip over their legs, Three landing on their back looking up at Eight who catches herself on top of them. They’re forced to part at this point, breaths heavy as they look at one another in the dimness of the room. Eight smiles first, Three smiles after.
Eight collapses on top of them, rolling off so that she’s at their side, cozying up against them. Three wraps their arm around her as best they can, pulling her even closer.
“So now it’s appropriate to sleep in the same bed?” Eight asks, teasing.
Three prays it’s dark enough in the room to hide the blush tinting their cheeks. “I think so, yeah.”
***
Three sucks air through their gritted teeth as another shock of pain throbs through their tentacle. They open the door to their room a little too hard, startling Eight who was sitting inside.
“Three! Where have you been?” She says with a mix of concern and accusation.
“Sorry, a lot of things just happened, I meant to be back earlier,” they say, leaning on the doorway, looking at her with apologetic eyes.
Eight gives them a small smile. “Alright, alright. Please tell me everything.”
She gestures to the bed which Three slowly lays down on. As they take their captain’s hat off and hang it on the hook, Eight pulls up the desk chair with gauze in hand, wrapping their tentacle as Three recounts the day: the fuzzy ooze, the mower, Cuttlefish, the rocket, everything.
“You know if things didn’t go as well as they did you would’ve been a furball right about now.”
Eight laughs at that. It’s a sound Three has loved getting used to. “Okay, I believe you. I’ll have to thank this new Agent 3 when I meet them.”
“Hey, I helped too. Kind of.”
She rolls her eyes, planting a kiss on their lips. “That’s your reward.”
Three smiles as she ties the gauze. “Now some other important news, Marina contacted me.”
Three sits up. “What did she say?”
“She said the research we gathered last week was a huge help, and that she thinks she has found a way to reverse the effects of sanitization.”
“Woah, that’s incredible.”
The smile begins to fade from her face. “The other thing is that she wants me to be a part of this project. Which would mean accompanying her and Pearl on tour.”
Three exhales. “What are you thinking?”
Eight hesitates. “I’m thinking I’ll be going with them.”
“And I think you should. I know you care a lot about this.”
“You won’t miss me?” Eight crawls onto the bed in front of them, moving to straddle their lap. Three suddenly isn’t sure what to do with their hands.
“O-of course I will.” Their hands settle on her hips. “But it’s important to you. You should go and help.”
Eight smiles wide, throwing her arms around their neck and kissing them deeply, sending them both toppling backward onto the bed.
“I want to do as much of this as possible before I go.”
Three smiles. “I’ll hold you to that.”