Work Text:
It was a sort of brisk day, the kind one would only really have the misfortune of experiencing if one had possibly, maybe, potentially called their girlfriend a few choice words. Which Celeste had. But in context, it hadn’t been that offensive, right? And it wasn’t as if Kyoko had low self-esteem after a few missteps on a past case. But regardless, Celeste pushed open the door of a coffee place. It was objectively overpriced, but Celeste thought absolutely nothing of it. In fact, it more so served as a point of attraction to the store, as she thought her girlfriend deserved nothing but the most expensive, exquisite things she could provide. And she took much pride in being able to.
She fumbled with her bag nervously. Celeste looked around to see Kyoko wave at her from a nearby booth. Celeste prepared to swallow her pride and simply apologize. It really shouldn’t have been so difficult. But what came out instead? What could somehow serve to worsen an already precarious situation?
“Hello.” 'Hello?’ That was the best she could muster after the previous night? God, she must truly be insufferable. Painful to even be around, to even look at. But Kyoko smiled at her. Celeste kept her guard up, wondering as to what Kyoko could be trying to gain by acting unoffended, by acting as if Celeste wasn’t the absolute scum of the earth. Practically a step-down from being a wife-beater! Verbal abuse, still a very good reason to get a divorce— a break-up, she meant— if old American sitcoms were to guide her assumptions. But back to the game, to the way Kyoko was looking at her. So lovingly, so affectionately, as if nothing had happened.
“Are you going to sit down, or do I have to lure you with a scone, Cele?” And that godforsaken nickname— Celeste knew this game. Kyoko was trying to get something out of her. Was it money? No, Kyoko wasn’t so simple. Maybe Kyoko was just back up to her old detective bullshit, in it for the game and nothing else. Celeste couldn’t imagine the interest of a game without something at stake, some sort of prize to be coveted.
“My apologies.” Her fake accent in full swing, Celeste sat across from Kyoko at the booth. It had what appeared to be a coffee stain marring its fabric. Celeste traced the stain with her eyes and wondered if, like the stain, her language had ruined the relationship with one careless spill, a loose tongue. Except it was a couch, and Kyoko was a living, breathing thing, and Celese was being irrational. This thing that she had with Kyoko, it was one of the few good, real things in her life. It was concrete, almost seemed permanent. She was so useless, calling Kyoko such vulgar words. Kyoko had asked Celeste to let her accent slip, but she surely hadn’t meant it in that way, she surely hadn’t intended for her kindness to be so misused.
The fluorescent lights bathed the tabled in a sickening shade of yellow. Celeste felt sick. Maybe that was her way out of this, her Hail Mary.
“I’m terribly sorry, but I’m not feeling so well. I might go back home, if that’s okay.”
Kyoko looked at her confused, and almost hurt. Exactly what Celeste needed, to hurt her more! God, she was such a fuckup. Why couldn’t she do anything right?
“It’s nothing against you! Shit– I mean, if you’d just excuse me!”
Celeste made a mad dash for her black MX-5, her nails biting into the soft skin of her palms. She slammed the door to the coffee place shut, and flung her keys out of her pocket. Kyoko, of course, followed her, gently placing a hand on Celeste’s back.
“Baby, what’s this about?” She murmured, gesturing to Celeste. “What’s wrong?”
“Can we just get in the car? Please?”
Kyoko nodded and ran to open the driver’s side for Celeste. She shut it and the quickly claimed shotgun, closing the door swiftly. She turned to Celeste and immediately kissed her cheek. Celeste sighed and pulled on her face, rubbing some of her makeup off, dyeing her tan fingers white.
“I’m so sorry,” she said suddenly. Kyoko looked toward her with a quirked brow.
“For what, exactly? I don’t recall you doing me any wrongs lately. Aside from being your usual self,” she quipped.
Celeste rolled her eyes at the dig. But, what was she hearing? Kyoko really hadn’t remembered?
“It’s nothing, never mind.”
“No, I’m curious now. What’s gotten you so hot and bothered?” Kyoko asked, an inquisitive look on her face.
“You really don’t remember the awful things I said to you?” Celeste blurts out, accent disappearing on each syllable.
“I remember you calling me ‘assface-’ Celeste, please don’t tell me this is what you’ve been brooding about for the last 24 hours. My lord.” Kyoko sighed.