Work Text:
Maybe it's egotistical, but Cassie likes to think she had a hand in the creation of Naomi Hannah Valmont.
When Naomi first came to terms with the idea that she could be a girl, it was Cassie she confided in first. It was Cassie that heard her worries, before her mother or her rabbi. And it was Cassie who helped her choose a new name during her transition.
They'd made quite a pair in high school. Tall and athletic Naomi who was outgoing and tried to make everyone feel included. Short, quiet Cassie who took photos and blended into the background. Their relationship had been frayed during college, just because they were on different campuses and hours apart.
But they had started to fix that, visiting each other and catching up. Things were going good, Cassie was regaining her best friend, had a good job taking pictures of models, and still found time for her recreational activities.
Until Naomi swung by her house with only an hour's warning. Cassie had tried to clean up as best as she could but there was only so much she could do about the butchered human body in the basement.
She might, Cassie reflects as she ducttapes her friend to the chair, have overreacted.
Naomi looks beautiful like this, dark hair ruffled, top few buttons of the white blouse left undone, and black skirt just short enough to hint at her muscular thighs.
She aches to kiss her. She wants to cut into those lovely thighs to see the beautiful red underneath.
She does neither, delaying the problem until later.
"I should probaby get a new name, right?"
"It should be something pretty."
"That doesn't narrow it down, Cass."
"What about the name from the story you heard in synagogue last week?"
"So you were listening! But no, I can think of at least three other Ruths in the community."
"What about Naomi?"
Her head pounds like a ticking clock. The ducttape keeps Naomi pinned to the chair. She tries not to look at the... at the carcass. Her stomach gives an uncertain flip.
"Cass?" she calls softly. There is no reply. Naomi can't hear anything from upstairs either; the room is probably soundproofed then. She tries not to think about why that is.
The cellar is cold and dark, except for a single lightbulb above her.
She sits and waits. There must be an explanation. There has to be. Cassie isn't-
She wouldn't just-
The cellar door opens and Cassie walks down the steps, black tool box under her arm. Her voice is confident and steady. "Sorry about the wait, I wanted to make sure everything was ready."
"Cassie, what's going on?" Naomi tries to match her calm but can't hide the tremor in her voice. "Just talk to me, please."
Her friend pauses in front of her, expression hard to read. Then she leans down and softly presses her mouth to Naomi's. It feels... nice, and over too soon.
She still uses the same cherry chapstick, she thinks distractedly.
"I need to get some work done. Can you be quiet, Nim?"
She nods for lack of a better option. Naomi keeps her eyes focused on her lap, not daring to watch as Cassie starts working on the body with a butcher's cleaver, struggling to ignore the squelches and tearing of flesh.
Naomi knows her friend. Cassie's the quiet girl with brick walls but has a sweet smile if you approach her right.
But she doesn't know this version of Cassie, and that scares her.
Cutting up a human isn't far removed from cutting up a pig, and there's plenty of information about the latter online. Some pieces are left in long strips, others are just small chunks of meat like a beef patty. Internal organs require a separate methodology to store properly. Most of it ends up the cellar freezer. Cassie tends to leave the leg and arm bones for the neighborhood strays, while the more recognisably human parts of the skeleton are disposed of elsewhere.
The work is soothing in a way: just Cassie storing good meat and being left alone with her thoughts. She doesn't usually have an audience, though.
"If it makes you feel better," Cass says when the silence gets to be too much, "this asshole absolutely deserved it."
"He was a bad person?" Naomi's voice is quiet, almost fragile.
"Uh huh, total creep. You would have hated him."
They return to silence after that but Cassie thinks it's a good sign that Naomi hasn't been screaming or trying to escape. She's never been the fighting type. Although that doesn't make her problem any easier to solve.
The simple thing would be to kill Naomi. She's seen too much and doesn't have the killing instinct. She probably wouldn't be a reliable partner in crime. And yet.
"Can you untie me? My legs are going numb."
Naomi is athletic and has a decent amount of muscle, of meat, but she's never been a fighter. It was usually Cassie decking assholes and defending her honor in high school. So she decides play along.
Cassie walks over with a small knife and, pretending not to see the apprehension in the other girl's eyes, starts cutting the ducttape loose.
Maybe Naomi is playing along too but it's nice to pretend. Then again, maybe it doesn't have to be pretend. People, just like clay, are malleable and can be shaped into something new. Cassie settles on her new Plan A.
"I could really use your help, Nim." Cassie reaches out to touch her friend's cheek. Her hand, still bloody from the work, leaves a red stain. Naomi flinches but doesn't try to jerk away.
Naomi isn't ready yet but, maybe with a push in the right direction and careful molding, she'll be the perfect accomplice.
Perfect for Cassie.