[Fanfic, 100% OJ] Bargain

Genre: Slice of Life
Length: 4323 words
B/D: Formatting things on blogspot is a chore. I ended up posting this on Ao3 well before I posted it here as a result.

One of the great benefits of owning a cat, in Nath’s opinion, is that you don’t have to try to be sociable in the event that somebody invades your house early in the morning. The cat can handle being sociable. It’s his job, one that society (consisting of Nath, herself and she) considers utterly invaluable, and for which he will be repaid handsomely in tuna and ear scritches. With him soaking up as much attention as one feline can contain, she has time to make herself human and de-grumpify before assuming the role of the pleasant host.

The cat-Nath tag team works better on some than others. Hime is particularly susceptible; Sora is generally not busy enough to need distracting, but instead just lies down to commune with the cat through some deep, shared genetic love of sleep. Suguri, who visits rarely and usually for business, will scratch him absently and then move on, proving herself largely above the wiles of an affectionate feline.

This morning is the first time the cat has met Sham, and never before has he achieved such a colossal victory. With a twitch of his whiskers and a shake of his tail, he has captivated her in a way that only something small, fluffy, and vaguely reminiscent of Sora can achieve. He’s even charmed the idol into using her indoor voice; for a while, Nath didn’t think she had one, but apparently it just goes missing for days or weeks at a time.

With the cat basking in the unlimited affections of a beautiful woman, Nath has time to fashion a cup of coffee, bolt down a round of toast, and inspect her face quizzically in the mirror. (Normally, she would skip the last part, but she finds that around Sham, she becomes a little more conscious of her appearance. Similarly, it is hard to be around Hime without feeling under-dressed.)

Speaking of under-dressed, she certainly is that. She rarely gets visitors in the morning, since all of her usual guests wake up in the afternoon. With no plans for the day, she’d been lounging in her pajamas with a book when the knock on the door came. Compared to Sham – dressed in a chic, urban kind of outfit complete with a beret – she probably looks more than a little sloppy. Fortunately, there are few people who can retain a dignified air while fussing a cat, and Sham is not one of them.

When she returns to the living room, Roger trots over to her and chirrs a greeting, leaving Sham lying belly up in the middle of the floor. She gives him a gentle nudge with her foot, selects a cushion, and sits down for the interrogation – although who will be interrogating whom is still up for debate.

“So, to what do I owe the pleasure?” she asks.

“Oh, right,” Sham responds, sitting up with a show of effort. It is just a show, Nath knows; for all that she has a gift for appearing round at the edges, Sham is more than capable of a sit-up or two. “Nath, I’ve come to bargain.”

She closes her eyes, and pretends to be nonplussed. Actually, she is just stalling until the coffee does its work and the caffeine hits her system. With the company she keeps being who they are, she’s become quite good at taking surprises in stride.

“I don’t really understand, but fine. What are we bargaining for?” she asks.

Sham’s smile – habitual and easy – grows just a little wicked. “I,” she announces, “have something that you want.”

In point of fact, Sham has many things she wants: the gift of the gab, creative talent, and fingers that don’t need oiling are all on the list. But none of them are things that can be bartered for, or freely given. She frowns as she puzzles it over. Buys a little more time for the miracle of expresso to work its magic.

Perhaps, if Nath was a better negotiator, this was the moment where she would draw back, perhaps sneer, and say ‘Bold of you to assume I want anything’. She would play her hand close to her chest, no pun intended, and put Sham on the back foot, drawing out information without committing to whatever nonsense her friend had planned.

But instead, she shrugs and says: “Alright. What is it?”

Sham’s face lights up. She has achieved step one of her master plan, a long and convoluted series of gambits that she wrote out on her whiteboard at four o’ clock in the morning while slightly intoxicated. (She had, in fact, bought a small bottle of pink champagne specifically for the planning session. Normal Sham’s plans work, but Drunk Sham’s plans are fun.)

Step two of the plan: be smug.

“Heh. Well, you may not know this, buuuuut, I convinced Sora to finally embrace her own cuteness and take to the stage. We did a secret, exclusive idol show together, and –”

“Oh, right. Did you guys have fun?” Nath asks.

Sham’s hastily assembled facade of smugness crumples instantly. “What? You’re meant to be surprised. Why aren’t you surprised?!”

“Well, I knew about it. Sora told me.”

“But it was a secret!” Her voice is devastated, betrayed. Slightly melodramatic.

“From Suguri. Which I kept,” Nath replies, flatly. “Sora told me about it. She was worrying about it, so I think talking helped.”

Sham’s expression rushes through a swathe of emotions, like a flipbook comic drawn large. If you could slow down time and focus on any one of them, it would tell its own story: disappointment, a touch of envy, acceptance, guilt, happiness. As it is, they go by so fast that all Nath sees is a blur of reactions, too quick to comprehend. The idol’s face eventually settles on wistful as the emotion of choice.

“Hah… You and her are a lot alike in that way. You both take things so seriously, even when it’s fun.”

“Is that a problem?”

“Not at all. I actually really like earnest people like that. When I see someone trying their best, even for the little things, I just wanna cheer them on, you know?”

Nath glances to the side, unsure how to react to the indirect compliment. In the end, she chooses to nod and let it hag in the air. “We should get back on topic.”

“Uh, right. So! So you knew about the secret idol show. But what you didn’t know,” Sham carries on, finding her form again, “was that I made a secret recording of the whole thing!”

She looks at Nath, expecting some kind of reaction – applause? Shock? Jealousy? Whatever it is, it doesn’t come. Instead, Nath just looks blankly back at her, as if being told that the sky is blue and the sea is wet, and wondering what to do with that novel information.

“H-hey. You’re not, like, excited by that, at all? You know, that you could see Sora at her maximum cute level, strutting her stuff on stage?” Sham asks. Her eyebrows are doing interesting things. Her face in general is as entertaining as a good TV show, but right now it’s really going the extra mile. “You know, there was this one moment where she kinda flubbed the routine a little bit and then recovered it, and it was so totally cute I could almost die, and–”

“Yes,” Nath agrees placidly. “I enjoyed that part.”

It takes a second for the penny to drop. But when it does, Sham becomes an explosion of sound that only abates when the cat throws her a sharp look and a warning growl.

“You saw it? How?” she hisses, thus chastened.

“Hime.”

This, by itself, is explanation enough. Any surprise can be accounted for, given sufficient values of Hime.

“But… but… You’re not supposed to film at a live concert! It’s rude! She cheated!” Sham pouts.

“You filmed it,” Nath points out.

“That’s different,” the idol retorts with a huff. “So, what did she charge you for it?”

“She wanted to stroke the fur on this guy’s belly.” She inclines her head towards the cat. “He scratched her, of course, but she was very cheerful about it.”

‘Scratched’ is, perhaps, something of an understatement. In actuality, the cat had clung to her underarm, kicking and biting furiously when she tried for one stroke too many; Hime accepted this with the patience of a buddha, content to observe cat behaviour first hand.

“That’s so cheap, too!” Sham bawls. “She way undercut me! This is fraud! It’s highway robbery!”

“For what it’s worth… I enjoyed it. I’m not really the type for idol shows, but I could tell you were both having fun. Good work.”

The compliment mollifies her a little, and – somewhat reluctantly – the idol settles down again. Even so, she seems at a loss; her plan of attack, such as it was, has been neutralised.

It would be easy, Nath thinks, to let things peter out here. To spare herself the bother and the chaos of whatever it is Sham is trying to achieve, go back to bed, and wake up in a few hours to find the cat sleeping draped across her neck, as has been his custom for the last week or so. She has that option, and she considers it.

And, as she so often does, she sighs.

“Sham. What did you actually want? Or, rather, what were you trying to bribe me for?” she asks, just a little deadpan at the end.

“It wasn’t a bribe! It would have been an exchange of goods and services,” Sham argues. It seems like an argument she’s used more than once, which doesn’t help her case. “But there’s no use talking about it, really. What I want… eheh. It’s not something I think you’d do unless there was a big reward for it.”

So now, at least, she knows that Sham’s demands would have been ridiculous. Still, there’s no harm in at least knowing what she wants. And… well, it isn’t like there aren’t ridiculous things Nath wants, too.

“Try me,” she says.

“So. Um. Basically. I was thinking. Me and Sora, we really kinda went all out on our idol show, you know? Especially her. She took a bunch of lessons from me, and practised hard, and did her best even though she was embarrassed, all so she could put on a special show for Suguri and Hime. So, I was thinking – maybe I could put on a special show for her? But I’d need the right partner. So, obviously–”

“Obviously, that would be Hime.” Nath’s voice is cool and composed – although just the tiniest hint of desperation lingers in the lower register. There’s only one place this can be going, and she doesn’t like it. “She can dance, and she’s got the personality for the stage. There’s nobody else it could be.”

“Obviously, it’s you.” Sham says it as if there is no other alternative, no other possibility. It is the absolute certainty that Sora sometimes has, backed up by charisma honed over many lifetimes, and it is incredibly potent. “Think about it for a sec. Sure, Hime would be great. But if we think about the people Sora would really want to see on stage, it’s gotta be you and me, right?”

“…You know, I wish I had your confidence sometimes,” Nath says darkly. ‘Arrogance’ would be perhaps a better word.

“I know how it sounds. But it’s true, isn’t it?” Sham continues. Her voice is patient, reasonable. She’s dangerous when she’s reasonable. “She loves Hime and Suguri, but it’s different with you and me. We’re her best friends. We’ve got… history. So I’m sure she’d love it the most if it were us.”

“Small problem: I can’t sing, and I definitely can’t dance.” Nath frowns, eyebrows furrowing, imaging her own stiff, straight-backed movements. “You need arms for most of the dance bits, too.”

“Sora couldn’t sing or dance either, when she started. But she put the work in, so I taught her. I can totally teach you too – it’ll be a bit harder, I think, but it’s definitely possible. If you really try, I think I could have you ready to perform in a month.”

A month! Nath boggles at that for a moment. Ten thousand years of never singing a bar or busting a proverbial move, and Sham thinks she can have her ready to perform in only a month. It sounds absolutely ludicrous. Silly.

And, when Sham says it, trivial.

“Plus… I mean, I’m just gonna come out and say it, alright? I think it’d be a great chance for me to get to know you a bit better, and that’s actually pretty important to me. Like, I kinda struggle with quiet people. With Sora… well, Sora’s Sora, right? And Suguri’s a huge fan of mine.” Sham’s eyes grow a little distant; she is thinking carefully about what to say, and how to say it. “But with you, I can’t really talk about work, and I don’t really wanna dredge up the war. We could talk about Sora, but we shouldn’t have to… like, rely on her, just to have some common ground.”

“I… suppose I can understand that, yes.”

“It’s not that we’re not friends or anything. But I want to be better friends, and I’m kinda trying to find a direction to come at that from. I think that, working together, and having fun together, and letting you know how it feels to, like, do what I do… I think that could work.”

Nath pauses. She wavers. “Can I ask what brought all of this on?”

“Nothing specific, really. But sometimes when I see you guys talking together, it kinda feels like I’m on the outside looking in. I don’t want things to be like that. Even if…. Ahhh, what am I saying? You get what I mean! I want us to be the Three Amigos, not two friends plus Sham!”

Nath rolls her eyes a little. “…Rather than the three amigos, I think we’re more like the Maiden, the Mother and the Crone.”

Sham folds her arms across her chest. “I know Sora’s the maiden, but you’d better think twice about saying I’m the crone.”

“That’s fine. I’m not round enough to be the mother anyway.”

“Hey, what the heck’s that supposed to mean?!”

“Back on topic,” Nath says quickly, diverting the path of conversation to slightly less loud direction, “I understand what you’re saying. But it’s a big request. Being on stage is… the opposite of who I am. I’m not a huge fan of being stared at or watched, and I’ve tried not to bring too much attention to myself for a long time. In other words…” she trails off. “It’s going to cost you. A lot.”

Something lights up in Sham’s eyes. “Performing on the same stage with Sora was one of my dreams, but now that I’ve done that, this is a dream of mine as well. I’ll do whatever it takes to make it come true! Come on, name your price! Lemme guess, you want that kind of ‘private show’, right?”

“No. Where did that suggestion come from?” Nath says, frowning.

Sham looks a little coy, a little smug. “Do you know how many people across the years have asked me for that? I’m confident in my smoking hot body!”

“That’s… besides the point.” She clears her throat, and decides to confidently forget what she just heard. “You’re good at robotics. I know that much. Particularly from our era, correct?”

“Well, I’m not bad. Hard to get parts, though. Is this about your arms again? I already gave the information to your lab nerd guys.”

“Not… quite.” She pauses. Takes a bit of a breath. “I want weapons.”

“Huh?” Sham asks. She blinks, her mouth a soft ‘o’. “Wait. Huh?! Why do you want weapons? Everything’s peaceful! What would you use them for? Even if something happened, don’t Suguri and Hime have, like, a squad of bodyguard babes or something to take care of it?”

“Sisters, I think,” Nath corrects her. “I can see why you’d be confused. Obviously, I don’t mean to attack anybody. It’s just…. hm.”

It’s hard for her to put the words in order. At times like this, the contrast between her and Sham is obvious; the idol had to think for mere seconds before she could pour her heart out, truthfully and without restraint. For Nath, it’s far harder. A minute or more ticks by in silence as she thinks.

“When Sora woke up,” she begins, slowly, “she wasn’t exactly… calm. According to Suguri, she must have been confused by the long sleep, but… she flew into a rage, and attacked Suguri and Hime as they were passing by. They were able to fight her to a standstill until she calmed down, but it took both of them.”

“Ah, I think I heard about this, maybe? I guess it goes to show how tough those two are. I remember fighting Sora during the war, and… yeesh.” Sham grimaces, shuddering at the memory.

“Mm,” Nath nods. “So, obviously… they wondered about it. What if they hadn’t been there, and she’d just gone berserk with nobody to stop her? What if she goes berserk again? That kind of thing. Since then, they haven’t let her do anything more than some light training, just in case she gets carried away.”

“Huh. That might be for the best, maybe.”

“I don’t know. Is it?” Nath asks. “Honestly, I’d disagree. She’s one of the strongest people on the planet right now. I think she needs a healthy way to express that, rather than just… bottling it all up. How would you feel? Having all that ability, but not being able to use it for anything? It’d be like telling a bird not to fly, or…” She jerks her head toward the cat. “Telling this guy not to climb on the furniture.”

Sham leans forward, gazing straight into Nath’s eyes. She’s not sure if it’s some kind of challenge or test, but she doesn’t look away; she holds her gaze steady, her expression neutral.

After a few seconds, the idol renders her judgement. “That’s not all, is it? You’re holding out on me. Spill it, Nath. There’s some other reason you want this, isn’t there?”

Nath lowers her gaze, and her voice. “Well. We, um. Went boxing together, once.”

“Boxing? Like, with gloves and stuff?” You know, I kinda thought this before, but you guys really did some random stuff before I got here, didn’t you?”

“That’s beside the point,” Nath says, although frankly she agrees. “We got in the ring, and… well. I’ll admit, she got a bit carried away. Hime called the fight before I got hurt. But…”

She replay the memories in her mind. The height of summer, adrenaline pounding in her ears, the scent of sweat. Sora’s eyes locked on hers. Focused. Alert. Awake.

“You should have seen her,” she says, shaking her head. “She was breathtaking. It was the most alive I’ve seen her since the war. And… I liked it. A lot. So, that’s my stake in it, I suppose. I think she needs – or deserves – to be able to stretch herself and spar properly, and I like the results when she gets the chance.”

Sham’s cheerful face seems to be discovering new wrinkles; Nath has never seen her look this concerned. “But you said she got carried away when she fought you. Don’t you think it’s maybe a bad idea to try the same thing again, but with guns?”

“I believe in her,” she replies simply. “She doesn’t want to hurt anybody, and she’s not going to go berserk. She just hits a little harder than she thinks she does, sometimes.”

“Uuuuuu… Nath, I don’t like it,” Sham moans, shaking her head. “I get what you’re saying, and I think I kinda agree, maybe, but I don’t really want to go against Suguri and Hime on this kinda thing. And… and, I don’t really want Sora to fight anymore.” She bites her lip. “You’re gonna have to make some concessions.”

Nath smiles. “Or, in other words, you’re open to negotiate.”

“Well, I mean… it’s you, so I know you’ve got her best interests at heart, and you’re reliable enough. I just worry.”

As she speaks, the hesitation melts from her face, swiftly replaced by a look of mulish determination.

“One!” She snaps a finger up, counting her points as she goes. “If you guys are fighting or sparring or playing or whatever, you’re bringing me along with you. I can intervene if it gets too rough. Two! There’s no way I’m making you some crazy mecha artillery stuff like you had in the war. Nobody needs weapons like that anymore. I can probably implement the basics – a sword and a laser rifle, so you’ll be on just about even footing when it comes to weaponry. But I’m not going any further than that. And three! We’re doing the show first, and I want you to give a hundred and twenty percent on it – even if it’s tough, and even if it’s embarrassing!”

Nath nods. “Fine. In return, you handle the weapons and the maintenance, and you don’t breath a word about it to anyone – we’ll tell Sora on the day. And when it happens, we’re going by her word on it. If she’s not into it, we’ll stop. But if she wants round two or three or whatever, and nothing’s gone wrong, then we keep going. Deal?”

“Deal.”

Almost by reflex, Sham extends a hand to shake.

“Sorry. Arms are in the shop. You can grab a sleeve if you like,” Nath says.

“Don’t mind if I do,” Sham replies, and shakes the sleeve of her nightshirt by the wrist. “Wow. I can’t actually believe we’re doing this.”

“I can barely believe most of the things I get roped into doing. You get used to it.”

With an accord struck, it seems like a fine time for more coffee and toast. She retreats to the kitchen; as she does, the cat winds his way around her legs, apparently starved for attention while they were hashing out the deal. Or starved for kibble – hard to tell, really. She rattles around his bowl until there’s no visible space at the bottom, which does wonders for his appetite, and returns to the living room.

It is only now, as she looks at Sham relaxing on her cushions, that she realises the idol was tense at all during their discussion. The power of acting is terrifying.

“Hey, hey, so! Tell me more about this boxing thing. Did you guys, like, go in the full uniform? I mean, with the gloves and the shorts and everything?” Sham asks, back to her usual level of volume.

“I’m pretty sure we did.”

The look on the idol’s face becomes sly; she drops her voice a couple of notches. “Just the gloves and the shorts? Nothing else?”

Nath’s brow furrows. “What? No. Why would we box topless?”

“I don’t know. The way you were describing it seemed kinda… scandalous,” Sham says, wiggling her eyebrows. The eyebrow wiggling is bad enough, but what makes it worse is that Nath can’t truthfully say she was wrong. There were some scandalous thoughts that went through her head at the time, which she mostly blames on a mixture of sweat, hormones, and perhaps a light concussion.

“Honestly,” she grumbles.

“I could totally see you going for that, though! Or even just, like, sparring in the nude. You’ve got that honourable, spartan commander thing going on, y’know?”

“Exactly what kind of character do you think I am?” Nath asks, in the most acerbic tone she can muster.

“Uhihihi! But you totally hit the showers together afterwards, right? Come on, we’re gal pals and co-idols now! Gimme the juicy details!”

“We didn’t,” Nath retorts brusquely. “I had a broken arm, and she needed to wash blue slushee out of her hair, so we went separately. Even if we had, I wouldn’t have peeked.”

Another complex cocktail of emotions passes over Sham’s face in the blink of an eye. “Ahhhhhh! I mean, good for you, but also, apologise to planet earth for wasting a golden opportunity!”

With that, Sham throws herself down on the cushion and flails. Nath sighs, deploying a particularly fine one from her bountiful collection. Perhaps it’s a good thing she and Sham will be getting to know each other over the next month or so – because right now, she’s not sure how to deal with her at all.

“Oh!” Sham says, popping straight back up again after five seconds of venting her emotions. “That reminds me. I still need to plan out a choreography and a training routine and everything, but you’re an idol-in-training, starting from right now. So, let’s take it from the top!”

Nath nods, expecting a lecture, or at the very least, a bullet-point list of things to get in preparation. What she’s not expecting is for Sham to lean over and, with terrifying dexterity, loosen the top two buttons of her nightshirt.

“An idol always has to know what axis of attack she’s going to take with her dress, her uniform, and her dance moves! You’re not as, uh, classically cute as me or Sora, but you’ve got the mature lady aura sewn up, so let’s make good use of it and hit ‘em with the sex appeal!” Sham declares, eyes shining. “Take me to your wardrobe. I’m gonna look through what you’ve got, and we can figure out the best way to make that body work!”

Nath looks down at her chest, which is much more exposed than she’s really comfortable with. She should be blushing, she thinks. But actually, she can feel the blood draining from her face.

Maybe this was a mistake after all.

A/N: The plot thickens! Or, at the very least, exists.