Que Sera, Sera

[BlackAkuma]

The more Alicia tried to steer her away from the talk of those outfits, the more Dizzy was desperate to see them. She’d honestly been curious about her friend’s modeling career, ever since Gabby brought it up. Not that she needed more material from the woman in sexy outfits, what she wore to the ring was all she could ask for in that regard. She was curious to see what they’d thrown her into and how she’d looked behind the camera. Her imagination ran wild, and she couldn't help but want that itch scratched.

She’d also been tempted to look up those episodes that Alicia mentioned from the show she’d been on, but had decided against it. It seemed like a sore spot for her, and it felt wrong to watch them behind her back. For some reason. She couldn't quite put why into words.

Her mind was pulled back to more serious matters, though. It was weird to look back at it now, but Dizzy had been so mad when she found out that her mother was joining LAW. It wasn’t that she had a problem with Japan per se - she didn’t know much about it, aside from the occasional anime she watched, usually because some girl she was into at the time was into it and made her - but just the idea of settling down seemed so wrong. She was a child of the world, she should’ve been traveling all over the place.

But now that she was here, doing it, all the friends she’d made since she had come to Japan, all her experiences, her match with Alicia, meeting Alix, the After Dark stuff…

Yeah. This was where she wanted to be.

She laughed along as they crossed the street, and the mention of Gabby and her mother came up again. ”Oh, god, I can picture that, my Mom would actually love it.” She rocked her head back and let out a long, exasperated groan. ”I swear, she’s talked about Gabby twice a day since you two left. It’s like having an older sister I never lived with, and-”

Dizzy came to a screeching stop as she nearly smacked into Alicia’s outstretched arm. She was confused for a half of a second, until the biker whizzed by, nearly running her over, and all the dots connected. The Latina had just reacted in an instant, protecting her on reflex. It was a simple thing.

It was beautiful. Dizzy could feel the blood rushing to her face as she looked up at the tall, powerful Amazon guarding her like a sentinel. Without even realizing it, this was probably a big reason why she’d wanted Alicia to come along in the first place. She was so small and vulnerable and in a city like this at night, all sorts of things could happen to her.

But not with Alicia around. With Alicia around, she was safe.

As Alicia dropped her arm, Dizzy reached out and grasped her hand, holding it tightly, possessively, lovingly. She glanced up at her friend, smiled, and tugged her along. ”Come on, bella. The night’s young.”

***

What followed was a whirlwind tour across the Shibuya shopping district, as Dizzy hit up a few key stores. She got some stuff for her Mom at the bookstore - some books from a few Japanese authors she had interest in, and this wooden rack she could put on the bathtub to read while she soaked. For Gabby, she had to lean on Alicia’s expertise, but she came away mostly satisfied.

But Alicia was the trick. Dizzy wouldn’t shop for her while the woman was right there, but she did see something while they were moving about that caught her eye, a perfect gift for the big Latina. She didn’t want to risk forgetting about it or it going out of stock, so she had to get it now. How to do that incognito, that was the question.

A bathroom break. Dizzy pretended to need one and got Alicia to wait outside while she darted in, but she actually used a side entrance to sneak her way back out and find the clothing store that had what she wanted. After a rushed purchase, she dashed back to the bathroom, washed up, and came back out fve minutes later, with the item stuffed into her tight pocket.

”Phew, sorry to make you wait, bella.” She wiped the sweat off her forehead and hoped the perspiration wasn’t too noticeable. Dizzy picked up what bags she could manage, while Alicia more effectively carried the rest. ”Dinnertime. What’re you hungry for?”

[HotWheels]

After the near-miss, Alicia’s figure slowly relaxed, though her eyes lingered on the disappearing cyclist with lethal intent. She briefly considered finding the nearest rock and launching it into the asshole's spokes, but common sense intervened. But the protective instinct wasn't new. It stayed baked into her psyche, forged by years of watching her own mother struggle with sickness and her sister, a shrimp herself, navigate the world with her head in the clouds. In school, before the modeling and acting, Alicia had acted as the enforcer. If someone she cared about needed a fight won, Alicia won it with interest, usually before she even understood the reason behind the fight. Protecting Dizzy felt... natural.

She let the frurstration go and almost caught up to the conversation - ready with a sassy comment about Gabby and Mama Belti being peas in a neurotic pod, or maybe something sharper in Spanish - when she felt it. Dizzy's hand slipped into hers.

Alicia froze. She whirled to look down at their joined hands, her muscles tensing instinctively. She couldn't remember the last time anyone had held her hand. It felt small. Warm.

Instinct told her to pull away or sass the Italian. But as Dizzy tugged her forward, skipping toward the bright lights of the shopping district, Alicia did absolutely nothing to stop her. And for the first time all night, she stopped pretending she didn't know why.

_____________________________________

Alicia didn't let the burden of that realization ruin the night. Knowing that things had to come to a head - that some messy honesty waited for them to handle it - didn't stop her from having a pretty fucking decent time.

She liked shopping. She always had, even when she couldn't afford it. Back in her teens, she used to wander malls with friends who smoked shitty cigarettes and bragged about shoplifting, darkly disapproving of them but liking the feeling of hovering around pretty clothing and people enjoying themselves. But this? This felt light. Fuckin' better company. And she could walk into a store, look at a price tag, and not immediately calculate how many shifts she’d need to pick up to cover it.

She bought a sleek new bookshelf on order for Gabby, since she had no clue what books she had or hadn't read or would want to read. She picked out a set of beautiful, heavy ceramic plates and cookware to ship back to her mamá, imagining the woman’s face when she opened the box instead of a PayPal email. She even grabbed a few random, tacky souvenirs for her mom's boyfriend, figuring the gesture mattered more than the actual item. Fuck, he seemed alright, even if Alicia didn't want to think on him and her mom together much.

Dizzy, however, proved a bigger challenge. Alicia realized with a start that outside of wrestling and women, she didn't know exactly what material objects the Italian craved. She couldn't exactly buy her a "female body" at a department store, though she joked that she would.

But then she saw it. Two things, actually. One was simple, fun. The other... the other carried weight. It meant something. It meant that conversation did have to happen.

When Dizzy announced she needed a bathroom break, Alicia seized the opportunity. She practically sprinted back to the previous store, her long legs eating up the distance. After negotiating in barely intelligible Japanese to cut a line, with a kind woman around her age obliging despite the language barrier, she bought the items quickly, shoving the bags deep inside her larger shopping totes to bury the evidence, and posted up back near the restrooms just as Dizzy emerged.

Oblivious to the timing due to her own covert ops, Alicia didn't question the wait. The hidden bags seemed to burn against her leg.

...But she felt weirdly good about it. And Alicia rarely felt good about surprises.

At the mention of dinner, Alicia started to shrug - her default setting of "I don't care, just feed me" - but stopped. The night had gone too well for a half-assed decision.

"Splurged all night, why stop now?" Alicia said, with the ghost of a smile. "Steak. Or some good sushi."

[BlackAkuma]

Dizzy could’ve eaten a horse. A small horse, maybe, but definitely a horse. Over the course of their little expedition, her stomach had been steadily growling, reminding her that she’d been so absorbed in her plans for the afternoon that she’d skipped lunch in the preparations, thinking her breakfast would be enough to hold her down, and that she shouldn’t eat too big before her training, anyway.

That turned out to be a mistake, one she was paying for now. People always thought that she didn't need to eat much because she was so small, but she would sadly inform them that, no, she needed a normal calorie intake to get going. She could pack food away just as well as her mother.

What her body did with all that food, she couldn't figure out, but that was another matter.

So when Dizzy suggested dinner and Alicia brought up steak, her stomach growled in agreement. ”Steak.” She said the word with an almost holy reverence. “Yes, steak sounds…awesome. And not just because I still haven’t gotten the chopsticks down.”

She was fairly sure her credit card wouldn’t think it so awesome, but Alicia was right. Tonight was a good splurging night. But she couldn't just pick anywhere, though, not tonight. This night felt…special. Intimate. She needed somewhere a little private, a little moody. Somewhere they could sit and eat and talk. Talk about important things, with only the occasional interruption from a waitress. Preferably a cute waitress.

”Mmmmm, there.”

Dizzy pointed to a place only a couple of shops down, located across the street from ICE, the wrestler strip club she’d alluded to earlier. 56709, an 80s retro bar she’d passed a few times when she frequented the area. She’d always considered going, but since she was never in this area looking for a relaxing time, she hadn't taken the plunge yet.

Tonight was the perfect night, though. Dizzy skipped on over, as music that sounded like something out of a cheesy Jazz soundtrack blared their way. Synthetics, the light beat of a drum, someone playing a saxophone like their life depended on it. A bit out of place any other time, but it fit the sort of mood she was looking for.

Plus, bonus? It wasn’t too busy. They were seated after only a couple minutes later, after a little negotiation with the waitress to get a corner booth in the shadows. She didn’t seem too happy about placing them so out of the way, but Dizzy would make up for it with her tip.

They settled in, nice and cozy, and Dizzy perused the menu while their waitress went to get the drinks. Now that Alicia had put steak on the mind, she was actively hunting for it, but she did take a moment to glance her friend’s way and gauge some comfort levels. ”Like this place so far? Music doesn’t bug you?” She tipped her head to the side with a curious shift of the eyebrows. ”Come to think of it, what sort of music do you go for?”

It was probably a little silly to think Alicia was into, like, reggaetone or stuff like that, though that was where her mind went on reflex - probably because she’d often imagined the Latina dancing to it, with no small amount of fondness. No reason to think that, though. It reminded her of people thinking she should be dancing to a tarentella, like something out of the Godfather.

[HotWheels]

Alicia caught the stomach growl. No wonder she zeroed in on the word "steak" like it was a religious experience. Alicia hid her amusement behind a rake of her hair, watching Dizzy's whole face light up at the prospect of red meat. Yeah, she got that. There had been plenty of nights in her teens when she'd come home from a double shift, stomach eating itself, and mama would have nothing but rice and beans waiting. Not that she'd ever complain about whatever they could eat - and these days she would kill for some of her rice and beans in Japan - but steak? That scratched an itch.

And no chopsticks. "Yeah?" Alicia's lower lip pooched with curiosity, though her tone carried more amusement than judgment. "Been here how long now? Even I figured that shit out." She let some of that Siren confidence drip into her voice before she relented with a dismissive shrug. "Guess steak's better with a knife anyway."

Alicia followed her gesture across the street and studied the retro bar's exterior. The synthetics and jazz sax hit her ears before they even crossed the threshold, distinctly 80s, distinctly... weird. But in a way that didn't immediately make her want to turn around. She'd seen worse theme choices. At least it wasn't trying to be some LA knockoff, and some places here were. Smelled good inside, too. Alicia, for her part, just stuffed her hands in her pockets and let Dizzy do the talking.

She noticed the way the Italian negotiated for the corner booth. Uh huh. At least Alicia preferred it that way. Give her a dark corner anytime, especially in a place like Tokyo where she looked like a bull in a China shop, most places. She liked that when she liked it - when she wanted the attention. When she didn't, fuck having any of it. And tonight, she didn't want it. She had other things to think about, other things to do.

Alicia began her search for a big-ass steak off the menu - medium rare, if they didn't fuck it up. Her fingers drummed against the table's surface until Dizzy's question cut through her thoughts. Her gaze lifted to meet curious eyes and a tipped head. Music. Right.

Alicia had mostly tuned it out, but for a moment, she let the saxophone wail through whatever jagged melody it was trying to sell. It was... fine. Better than the techno garbage some places blasted. "Heard worse," she said, fingers still tapping to a completely different, aimless beat. "Better'n the club garbage." Her expression soured. There was a reason she didn't go to clubs unless she had a damn good reason.

The second question made her pause, though. What kind of music did she go for?

Had been a while since someone asked her that - or cared, or was new enough and invested enough in her life to bother asking those questions. It actually took her a fuckin' second, and she leaned back against the booth, one arm draped across the top of the seat. "Don't really go for any one thing," she told her, opening the raised palm as a shrug. "Some Spanish dance, some rock, some electronic."

She maybe could have elaborated, but eh... it seemed like something to show rather than tell, sometime. Alicia had once really enjoyed driving around with a friend or two and blasting music, singing to it, not giving a fuck if she sounded bad. Maybe sometime, she'd do that again. In the meantime, her eyes tracked back to Dizzy, and she almost - almost - asked a legitimate question before giving her a hard time sounded much more appealing. "You? Mama get you hooked on any Norwegian music thanks to the boy toy that made you happen?"

The waitress returned with their drinks just as Alicia's taunting smile reached its peak, and the Latina immediately reached for hers and took a long, almost challenging sip.

[BlackAkuma]

Dizzy let out a long, exasperated groan at Alicia’s playful jab and waved her arms around as best as she could with the bags weighing her down. ”Don’t blame me, blame genetics. It’s hard to grasp the things right with my tiny little baby hands. Plus I’m left-handed.”

Both of those reasons were bullshit excuses, and Alicia would likely see right through them, but it was fun to pretend, anyway. In truth, Dizzy was sort of bad with utensils in general, a fact that her mother was quick to point out anytime they ate together, so pretty much all the time. It was a small miracle that she hadn't given her poke during their dinner with Alicia and Gabby. Though, maybe she’d just been ignoring it to keep from embarrassing her in front of her friends - if so, Dizzy appreciated the effort.

Tonight, though, her mother would be a non-factor. Just her and Alicia and a booth that might as well have been in their own private world, as concealed as it was. Dizzy settled into her seat, got comfortable, and hunkered down.

Something about this spot felt heavy. Like something amazingly wonderful could happen here. Or something unbelievably terrible.

Certain words were beginning to form in her brain, ideas for how this could and should go, but she wasn’t ready to let them all out just yet. For now, she kept things casual. Though she did scootch a bit closer, now and then. Cutting the distance between them by inches.

As she did, she took note of the pause Alicia made, as if she needed a second to process the question of her favorite music. It might not have seemed like much, but in her experience, people tend to blurt out an answer quick whenever they were asked. She almost seemed a little surprised that anyone would even ask her that. Or any question.

Maybe she was reading too much into it. She idly scanned the menu, centering on some fancy looking steak and seafood combo. ”Big Panic! at the Disco fan? Or did you just go with that song because it fit the theme?”

The Norwegian mention brought a raised eyebrow from Dizzy, confused for a second, until she remembered the joke from their first training session together. God, that had been such a fun few hours.

Dizzy didn’t answer right away, instead building up the suspense of the moment with a slim, growing smile as enjoyed a few sips of her fruity martini. ”Funny. But you’re not too far off.” She scooted a couple inches closer and lowered her voice, almost conspiratorial.

”So I’ve been around a lot, got into a lot of eurobeats. The easy answer is ‘anything but metal’. But what I really love - really really really love - is disco.” She wagged a finger Alicia’s way. ”Italo disco, specifically, but disco in general is cool. Psychedelic rock, funk, go-go.” She even started to bounce around to the music in her head without even thinking. ”Mom was a huge fan of the stuff. Well, she still is, but she doesn’t blare it all the time like she used to when I grew up. We used to dance around a lot to it for fun. Or she’d dance and I’d just spin around and get…well, you know.”

Dizzy twirled her finger around for emphasis with a wink to hammer the point home, before she brought her gaze back to the menu with a wistful smile. It might not have seemed like much, but that was a cherished memory, one of her first and most precious. Sharing it with someone, with Alicia felt right.

The silence hung for a moment, as she continued to look at the menu as if she hadn't already made her selection. ”I'm a good dancer. I think. I’d like to go dancing with you, sometime.” She nibbled on her lip, stole a quick glance at Alicia to mark the reaction, then focused back on the menu. ”If you want.”

[HotWheels]

Genetics.

Alicia watched Dizzy's hands flail around with the bags, talking about baby hands and being left-handed like that explained jack shit about her genetics when her mom looked like she had absorbed an ancient Roman goddess of war to sustain herself. She huffed out a breath that might've been amusement, shaking her head, deciding to let that one go and stop her teasing about the Norwegian model - for once - and address what else Dizzy did with those hands. "Right. Baby hands." Her eyebrow arched. "Seem to manage just fine when they're wanderin' around on a woman's body."

She let it drop with a dismissive wave, taking a sip of her drink. Not a complaint - and it would have been with any other little shit trying to touch parts of her body outside of a match.

And speaking of - the way Dizzy kept scooting closer didn't escape her notice, either. Little by little, inch by inch, closing the gap between them like she thought Alicia wouldn't pick up on it if she moved slow enough. Fuck that. She had a sister, she'd seen this with her boyfriends at movie theaters and diners. Alicia didn't shift, but her head did tilt enough to note how close, a quick shift of her hazel eyes to peer down where their hips or thighs or knees might meet. Kind of fuckin' annoyed her that her heart was doing this annoying thing where it kicked up a notch every time Dizzy moved. That shouldn't have been a big deal, but after the last few days of so much thinking-

She tried to focus on the actual conversations, not those things hanging around the perimeter, seeming like they wanted to jump her. "They're alright. More a fit thing than anything though, yeah." She wasn't about to admit she'd listened to that song on repeat for weeks before and after her debut, imagining herself as exactly that - a spectacle, a show, the center of everyone's attention. Something to strive for, something to turn into a mantra, weirdly enough, even if the song talked about having an addictive relationship with glitz and glam.

But Dizzy wasn't done. The confession about disco - Italo disco, she specified, like Alicia would know the difference - came with this conspiratorial lean and lowered voice that made Alicia wonder if that kind of disco didn't involve something sexual. Or potentially could with Alicia. She watched the Italian's face light up as she talked about her mama, about dancing around as a kid, getting dizzy and spinning and having these simple, perfect moments that Alicia could almost see playing out in her head.

When was the last time she had done that? Not recently. Not since she was a kid herself, maybe, before life got complicated and money got tight and she had to grow up faster than she wanted to. It had been Shakira, for her, mostly to show off to all the people at school who talked about her hips and that she looked like someone so popular and hot. That had meant so fuckin' much to her, then. Crazy how it still did, weirdly enough, but because she could weaponize it.

The wistful smile on Dizzy's face as she stared at the men - definitely not actually reading it anymore - made Alicia's throat feel tight. Pleased, maybe. Reassured that she got told this shit by someone whom she'd basically squashed publically yet who seemed to think the world of her. What the fuck did all that mean? Why did it mean so much to Alicia? Did it matter? Did she have to fuckin' hyperanalyze it?

The silence stretched. Alicia should probably say something. Acknowledge it. Say it was sweet or that she got it or-

Alicia's fingers stopped their aimless drumming when Dizzy said she wanted to go dancing with her. She watched Dizzy nibble on her lip, watched her steal that quick glance before hiding back behind the menu like it could protect her from whatever answer Alicia might give. That little addition - "If you want" - was weighted with more than just an invitation to hit up a club.

Like Dizzy wasn't sure. Like maybe Alicia would say no, or laugh, or deflect with some sarcastic bullshit that would let them both pretend this was still just two friends grabbing dinner after shopping. Alicia's gaze dropped to her own drink. She could do that. Could make a joke, change the subject, keep things safe and uncomplicated and exactly where they'd been for years now.

But mama's words kept echoing in her head. And the weight of those hidden bags against her leg. And... whatever else. Shit.

For a moment, Alicia just sat there, turning the glass between her hands, watching the liquid swirl. Then she let out a low chuckle that didn't quite reach her eyes, needing to buy herself a second so the silence wouldn't linger to the point of discomfort. "Yeah." She finally looked up, mouth quirking at one corner. "Guess I know what I'm gettin' you for Christmas now. Some bell-bottoms, platform shoes, maybe one of those sparkly shirts."

The joke landed soft, gentle even by her standards. But her smile faded quicker than it should have, and she found herself studying Dizzy's face - really looking at her in the low light of their shadowy corner booth. At the way she was still pretending to read that menu.

"You know what's funny?" Her voice came out quieter than usual, lacking its typical edge, the "street" tone that she didn't even realized she forced sometimes to sound tougher, more detached. She wasn't looking at Dizzy anymore, instead tracing the rim of her glass with one finger. "I haven't been dancing in... fuck, I don't even know how long. Years, maybe."

A beat of silence passed, and she didn't even know what she was thinking about, really. A bunch of different things. Then: "Nah, it's- I'm tryin' to figure out if you're askin' me as your hot friend, or..."

She trailed off, the words sticking in her throat. Her eyes dropped back to the table, to her fidgeting hands, to anywhere that wasn't Dizzy's face. "Your mama said some shit to me the other night," she finally managed, voice barely above a murmur. "About us. About... what we might be doin' here."

Her fingers stilled on the napkin. "An' I didn't know what to tell her, 'cause I don't... I'm not good at this." A short, humorless laugh. "Pretty fuckin' obvious, ain't it?"

[BlackAkuma]

There was a moment, after Dizzy told Alicia about her disco thing, where she feared she’d overshared - they were just talking about music, after all, not having an NPR interview. It had all came out so quick and natural, though, likely because she so rarely had the chance to talk about such stuff, almost never had anyone around she would want to with. Usually, when she had a hot woman in a dark corner of a room, they’d be making out furiously by now, and maybe breaking certain laws, depending on the country. Sitting and talking, just reminiscing with a friend, was a rare treat.

But she liked it.

The mention of the dancing wasn’t random, and the offer certainly wasn’t. The fantasy of dancing with Alicia had lived rent-free in her head pretty much since the moment they met, right around the time the bell rang and the Latina grappled with her. When she pushed her up against the ropes and ground up against her, all that weight, all the skin, all that body.

When she closed her eyes, Dizzy could still feel her. And she could see them in the club - somewhere dark, with flashing lights, intense - moving around each other. Pressing. Touching. Sliding. A sensual thing, but not only that, not like it would be with the countless women she’d danced with before. She wanted Alicia’s arms around her body. She wanted to be close, close enough to feel her warmth. She wanted to look up into those big, brown eyes and see caring and wanting and…

Love?

Dizzy’s toes crunched up as that single word echoed through her head. It wasn’t a word she used often, or ever, really. She’d liked a lot of people, sure. Lusted after so many, that was common. But, aside from her Mom, the idea of loving someone - caring for them in such a deep way - never applied. When she imagined her and Alicia together, though, she knew it was what she wanted.

The awkward moment couldn't have been more than ten seconds, but it felt like ten days. When Alicia cut through the silence, Dizzy’s shoulders sagged with her exhale, as she released the breath she didn’t even know she was holding. She chuckled, but kept her eyes locked on the menu. ”I already have those things, I’ll have you know.” She brought in just the right amount of her own sass, perfectly seasoned. ”But I can always use more.”

With the natural flow restored, Dizzy settled and prepared to actually read the menu - there had been a moment there, but it had passed, and she would have to bide her time and wait for another, she assumed. When Alicia spoke again, though, the alarm bells went off immediately. Not from what she was saying, but how she was saying it.

Dizzy had a good ear for voices, and she thought she had a handle on how Alicia spoke, enough to know she had two modes. There was Siren Mode, which she brought out when the cameras were rolling. Husky, sexy, sultry, reminding her of Selma Hayek in From Dusk ‘til Dawn, a movie she was quite familiar with. Then there was Alicia Mode, which she brought out when things were casual and cool. Still sexy, but more natural, with a default edge in everything she said. Fun and playful, but with this roughness that could spark into a flame at any given second.

This was new, though, and for a split-second it fooled Dizzy into thinking someone had body-swapped with her friend. She looked over, and Alicia was still there, but not the same Alicia. She seemed nervous, focused on the rim of that glass as if it held the secrets of the universe. Nervous? It was hard to imagine her even being nervous. She radiated confidence at all times, entered every room as if she owned it. This was the same woman who stepped into the house of someone who’d been savagely beating her not long ago, a titanic rival, without an ounce of fear.

The more she spoke, the easier it was to understand why, though. It was time.

Dizzy could feel her heart beating as Alicia continued to speak, looking her way with no small amount of worry. The only thing that broke it was a slight flair of anger, when she mentioned her Mom had given her an earful - her mind went to the worst option. She remembered that moment, while she and Gabby were gabbing, where Alicia and her mother were together and seemed to be talking about…something, but she hadn't given too much thought to it at the time. She’d hoped that her mother had been apologizing, or maybe they’d been talking about training, or having some wrestling rivalry talk.

Now, she worried that her mother had made some kind of threat to Alicia or told her off somehow, and she frowned and heated up for half a second, until Alicia clarified. Okay, good, so it wasn’t like that. But it did mean that her mother had picked up on a few things. Things that Gabby seemed to pick up on, too. Which meant that it was high time they stopped dancing around it.

”Okay. Okay, we’re doing this now. Okay.” She set the menu down and steepled her fingers, contemplating. ”Screw it, I’m giving you this now.”

Dizzy slipped back over, reaching into her bags, and fished out her present quick enough. She kept it close to her chest, covering it, as she came back to Alicia’s side and sat closer than before. Not touching, but well into the woman’s personal space. ”This…this is for you.”

In Dizzy’s hand, held out like an offering to a deity, was a headband. It was similar to the one she wore to the ring, the one that Dizzy had brought to her after her Mom had clobbered it off, but it was made of finer materials. A bit stretchier, a bit bigger, with a gold trim down the side. The most notable difference was a single word, gleaming white, running down the middle: ‘SUPERSTAR’.

”I saw this when we were out, and I got you it. Because it reminds me of you. The way I see you.” Dizzy dared to look up at Alicia only for a moment, then brought her gaze back down again. God, why was this so hard? ” You’re not just a ‘hot friend’. You’re my hero, Alicia. Ever since we’ve met, you just been this beacon for me, and you’ve made my life better and me happier and I just…I’m so glad you’re a part of my life.”

Deep breaths, deep breaths. Just keep pushing forward. She closed her eyes, hoping it would help, and it did. Just a little. ”We’re friends. But I’d like to try being more than that. I’d like to build something with you. I’d like to be…” Dizzy strained at the next few words, as if she had to force them out of her throat from somewhere deep in her stomach. Somehow, someway, she pushed through. ”...your girlfriend.”

There. She’d finally said it. The ‘G’ word. As hard as it had been, getting it out in the open had done wonders and she felt a calmness wash over her. The hard part was over, or so she hoped, and she dared to open her eyes again and look Alicia’s way, as she brought out her most sheepish of smiles. ”I’m not good at this, either. And I think this is actually the first gift I’ve given another person, which just says volumes about me, geez.”

The waitress began to approach them, coming at Alicia from behind, but she took one look at them, read them room, and quietly retreated. Dizzy made a mental note to give her some extra on the tip.

[HotWheels]

Alicia tried to focus on things. Concrete things. Real things that would keep her tethered to the moment instead of letting her brain do that thing it sometimes did when everything felt like it might go sideways. She'd gotten familiar with that weird dissociation over the years - like watching herself from outside her body, detached and numb while important shit happened around her. It had saved her ass more than once when life got overwhelming. When mama got sick. When money ran out. When she had to be an adult at fourteen or fifteen.

But she didn't want to do that now. Couldn't afford to check out about something that could end up good. So she hyper-focused instead. On everything.

On the way Dizzy's expression shifted as she started talking - something flashing across her face that looked like concern, or maybe distress, making her question if she had this all wrong. On the creak of the leather booth beneath her as she shifted her weight, the sound oddly loud in the small bubble of their corner. On the condensation running down her glass where her fingers traced the rim, the pace of that movement increasing without her conscious input.

Her voice kept coming out quieter than usual, lacking that edge she usually carried. She was saying a lot while saying nothing at all, really. Dancing around the actual question, the actual confession, because if she didn't name it directly then maybe it couldn't blow up in her face as badly. She felt like a fucking coward, to be honest, and when she finally trailed off - voice barely above a murmur - Dizzy set the menu down. Steepled her fingers. Said "Okay" three times like she was psyching herself up.

Then she reached for her bags. Alicia's stomach clenched. That nauseous feeling she'd been fighting off all night suddenly intensified, twisting her insides into knots. Waiting for an answer just made it worse. But after what felt like ten minutes but must have been ten seconds, Dizzy was moving, slipping closer - close enough that Alicia could feel the warmth of her body in the space between them. Not touching, but well into her personal space. And she was holding something.

A headband.

Alicia just stared at it. Couldn't process it at first, couldn't make sense of what she was looking at. Then her eyes focused on the word gleaming white down the middle. And Dizzy explained. For a few seconds, Alicia's brain was struggling to keep up. Something about being a hero. About being a beacon. About making her life better, making her happier, being glad Alicia was part of it.

But the Latina started to catch up. Hero. The word hit differently than it had in the past. Her family had called her that once. Hero because she'd worked her ass off to keep them afloat, taking on extra shifts and skipping meals so everyone else could comfortably eat. Superstar because she'd gotten on a couple of fucking dumb episodes of fucking dumb shows that meant nothing but had made mama so proud.

But this was... different.

This was someone who didn't owe her anything. Someone who had no reason to praise her like that except that she apparently wanted to. Being a hero in this case meant something else - something earned, not just obligated. And being called a superstar by someone who'd actually seen her wrestle, who knew what she was capable of, who understood the work that went into it...

She could feel her chest getting too full. It threatened to spill out through her eyes. She'd made people's lives better before, maybe. Few and far between, but it had happened. But no one had ever explained it like this. No one had ever called her the thing that made them happier.

Dizzy kept talking. Something about being friends but wanting more. About building something. And then- girlfriend. The word should have intimidated Alicia more after a lifetime of giving no one the power over her to call her a girlfriend. Plenty of people had wanted to be her girlfriend, her boyfriend, whatever the fuck. She'd had offers. Had people interested.

But no one had ever said anything quite that nice to her before. Not with it actually mattering. She could feel and see wetness gathering.

She stared down at the table instead of looking at Dizzy. Rested her mouth against her open palm, using the pressure to try and hold everything back. Her other hand gripped the edge of the booth seat hard enough to hurt. The silence stretched. Several seconds.

Finally, voice clearly at the point of breaking, Alicia managed: "You're such a bitch."

But the way she said it - rough and thick with emotion - made it the most affectionate insult Alicia could possibly deliver.

She sucked in a breath. Then another. Forced herself to sit back against the booth, to take her hand away from her mouth even though it meant Dizzy could see the wetness tracking down her cheeks. Her fingers found each other in her lap, twisting and fidgeting as she tried to get her shit together.

"I told you before," she said, voice still unsteady but getting there. "Back at your place. You do plenty of shit for me too. I dunno how to say it like that, but-"

She gestured vaguely at her face, at her wet eyes, at the whole fucking mess she'd become in the last sixty seconds. "No one else has made me do this pathetic shit in a real long time."

A shaky laugh escaped - half genuine amusement, half trying to center them both a bit. "An' now I gotta kill you for seein' it. So I might not be your girlfriend for long." Gave her something to hide behind while she wiped at her eyes with the heel of her hand, trying to get herself back under control.

[BlackAkuma]

Dizzy had never been good at speeches. Hell, the fact that she would even call what she’d just blurted out a ‘speech’ would probably give that away. She didn’t have a problem talking, of course - she was pretty good at conversation, since talking her way out of trouble and into someone’s bed was a talent she’d honed over the years. She couldn't rely on intimidation to get what she wanted like her Tower of Power mother, so she had to be more subtle. More persuasive.

But this was more personal than she was used to. More intimate. There was no subtle seduction here, no teasing, no serenading with sultry words and come-hither stares. It was Desdemona Belti speaking with Alicia Soto. It was new territory. It was exhilarating to get all of that out, like a weight on her shoulders that she could finally throw off.

It was also terrifying. For once, she said something to someone, and she had absolutely no idea how that person would reply. She had an idea of what sort of reaction she wanted from Alicia, but this wasn’t a movie. There was no script. She could shut all this down, say she wanted to keep things light and friendly. Dizzy wouldn’t even blame her - everything she’d done since they’d met painted her as the little heathen she unapologetically was. Not dependable. Not ‘girlfriend material’. After a lifetime of building up that image, it would make sense for it to bite her in the ass when she finally did want something serious.

It really was kind of pathetic that she’d never given anyone a gift before this, too. Sure, it wasn’t like she had a job before, but all the trysts she’d had, all the hookups, and she’d never even tried to make a connection like this. It was strange that it bothered her so much now, too. She’d never had a problem being shallow. Hell, she’d worn it like a badge of honor.

She laughed a little to herself at the thought, and finally managed to bring her eyes up to look Alicia’s way.

Tears. She was crying. Mamma mia.

Her hand was reaching out to comfort Alicia before she even realized she was doing it, a pure reflex, but she pulled it back at the last second. Something told her to give the woman space, to let her breathe. This would be hard enough without her adding sensations to the mix. Seconds passed, and time froze. Dizzy was holding her breath. One second. Then another.

Finally, Alicia spoke. And called her a bitch.

Dizzy blinked, twitched, and then out came the laugh as she exhaled, so loud that it actually startled some of the nearby patrons. It wasn’t the first time someone had called her that, but she could safely say that no one had ever done it in a way with more affection, with more care. It was rough, but it was sweet. Rude, but warm. It was the hardest slap and the softest caress all at once.

In other words, it was Alicia. Pure Alicia. "You are such an ass."

She got it together quick enough, just as Alicia moved her hands away from her mouth and revealed the twin streams trailing down her face. It was only then that she realized that her own eyes were watering up, too. Little beads were working their way out of the corners, dripping down her cheeks, as this euphoria took hold. This release. Everything was in the open now, and Dizzy felt clean. That was truly the best word to describe it.

Dizzy took a napkin and dabbed it at her face in a failed attempt to wipe the tears away, but it was futile - they were merely replaced a moment later. She resigned herself to the wetness, sat the headband on the table, and sat there, looking up at Alicia with what had to be the goofiest, unsexiest smile she had ever done. She let Alicia say her peace, waiting until the end before she had another, softer laugh. ”Then I will die a happy woman.” She slid closer, propped up to her knee on the booth’s seat, and rose up to Alicia’s height. ”La mia stella. Come here.”

Dizzy’s body moved on its own, as she brought her arms around the bigger woman’s neck. She moved in, slow, keeping contact with Alicia the whole way. Making sure this was okay. That this was what she wanted. That this was the right moment.

When she was sure - and only then - did she move in and press their lips together for a kiss. A soft, subtle, trusting kiss.

[HotWheels]

Dizzy's laugh offered Alicia some relief. At least she hadn't completely fucked this up. At least Dizzy understood what she'd meant beneath the insult. But the laugh also drew too many eyes to their booth.

Alicia felt the shift in attention immediately. She quickly turned, rotating her shoulder toward the rest of the restaurant as much as she could without making it obvious she was hiding. Let her hair fall forward on that side. Then she cupped her hand around the edge of her eyes - casual enough that it might look like she was just rubbing her face, deliberate enough to block any view of the wetness still tracking down her cheeks. None of them got to see this.

Hell, it was bad enough that Dizzy was seeing her like this. That felt... okay. Right, even, in a way that surprised her. Like letting out years of bottling everything the fuck up, releasing pressure she hadn't even realized had built to dangerous levels. The stress she'd kept well-veiled, the emotions she'd shoved down, the vulnerability she'd refused to show anyone - it was all pouring out now, and with Dizzy it felt like she wasn't giving away too much. But these other people? Random diners? They didn't get to be part of this moment. Didn't deserve access to this version of Alicia that she barely let herself acknowledge.

Except they were, she supposed. The flood had begun now, and there was no stopping it until it ran its course. But she couldn't get her mind working enough to really think it through. That was shit for later, for once this moment passed and she could breathe again and process what the fuck had just happened. Because right now, with whatever dumb little affectionate thing Dizzy was about to do - which would be totally effective, Alicia already knew - she couldn't focus on anything else.

She heard movement. Felt it more than saw it through her curtain of hair and the hand still covering half her face. Then Dizzy's voice, soft and warm and speaking Italian.

Dizzy's arms came around her neck before she could finish the thought. And she moved slowly - so fucking slowly - maintaining eye contact Alicia could only partially meet the whole way.

Alicia moved into it. She didn't let the hug linger long - too aware of the eyes still on them, too conscious of being in public - but she did bump her head gently against Dizzy's. A small motion, barely noticeable to anyone watching, but loaded with appreciation.

Then Dizzy moved in for the kiss. And for at least a few seconds - maybe more, time got weird - Alicia didn't care who was watching. She just... kissed Dizzy back.

Her hand finally dropped from her face, finding Dizzy's waist instead. Her other hand stayed gripped on the edge of the booth seat, anchoring her to something solid while everything else felt like it was spinning.

Of course, eventually she reeled back, her brain telling her to let it stay there for now. But when she did, he sucked in the deepest, longest, most centering breath she could remember taking in a while. And after what felt like a full minute but might have been ten seconds, she spoke. "This is stupid," she said, voice still rough but steadier now. Her eyes were still wet, still red, but she managed to look at Dizzy properly. "Thanks."

She wiped at her face again with the heel of her hand, trying to get herself presentable enough that the other diners might stop staring.

"So what do we fuckin' do now?" The question came out louder and more demanding than she meant it to. Like she genuinely didn't know the answer and needed Dizzy to help her figure it out.

She'd never done this before. Not really. There had been people, sure, who wanted something. She had kissed a couple. She had rubbed up against a couple others. It was momentary, shit forgotten in a month. But this? Actually committing to something? Actually letting someone in enough to call them her girlfriend?

Fuck no.