Dianna was still in Roxie's lap when she sniffled once, wiped her eyes with the back of her wrist, and looked up at the towering girl above her.
"Okay," she said, voice still thick but climbing fast toward mischief. "Enough of this doom and gloom shit."
She nudged Roxie's chest with her nose. "Can you show it to me?"
Roxie blinked. "Show you what?"
Dianna grinned. "The armor. The suit. The whole thing." She waved a hand vaguely, eyes glittering. "Be Titania for me."
Roxie balked like someone had asked her to recite the Pledge of Allegiance in her underwear.
"I—uh—I don't know." She glanced away. "It's ugly. And dusty. I haven't cleaned it since the last call. It still smells like grease and ozone and probably fear—"
"I don't care," Dianna cut in. She sat up straighter in Roxie's lap, straddling her now with purpose. "I want to see it."
"But—"
"No buts," Dianna said, eyes narrowing like a hunter who'd spotted a shy little deer made of emotional repression and low self-worth. "I want to see the Queen. Before you go hiding her away again."
Roxie opened her mouth to protest—and Dianna struck.
She gave her The Look.
Lips poked out in a perfectly fake pout. Voice rising just enough to be dangerously cute. Her bright blue eyes went impossibly wide, full of sparkles and wonder and wicked intent.
"Pleeeeease?" she cooed. "I think it's soooo cool…"
Roxie groaned. "Don't—"
Too late. Dianna pulled in the pout—bit her lip—and tilted her head like a sad anime girl made entirely out of horniness and danger. "No more secrets right?"
That was it.
That was the one.
Roxie visibly melted. Her posture wilted. Her heart kicked sideways and something in her brain started screaming in unintelligible static.
"Please don't look at me like that. It's gonna kill me." she mumbled.
Dianna grinned and bit her lip again, just to twist the knife.
"Okay, okay," Roxie gasped, covering her eyes like it might block the cuteness. "Fine. I'll get it. But you have to promise not to laugh."
Dianna raised a brow. "Me? Laugh? At the woman who literally threw a man through a concrete divider on live television?"
Roxie groaned. "Oh God, you saw that?"
Dianna laughs, "Babe, Jorge has a playlist about you. He's your number one fan. We've all seen it."
Roxie stood up, lifting Dianna with her for a moment before gently setting her back down on the floor like she was made of spun sugar.
Then, without a word, she turned and padded barefoot down the hallway toward her room, the sway of her hips betraying just the slightest hesitation.
Dianna moved to follow—of course she did—but—
"No!" Roxie said suddenly, spinning on her heel like a red-faced thunderclap. "No, ma'am. I won't let you watch me change."
Dianna blinked. "What? Why not? I've seen you in your undies before."
Roxie went fire engine red.
And then—oh no—the blue glow. That gentle, treacherous drift of cobalt mist started to rise again, curling up from her collarbones like guilt-shaped steam.
"Yes! But—that was different!" Roxie cried, throwing her hands up like she could wave the memory away. "That was before! Before whatever just happened! We're—we're something different now!"
Dianna tilted her head, amused. "You mean dating?"
"I mean you're my person now!" Roxie practically wailed. "And I don't know—it's silly—but it feels different now!"
She threw her arms over her chest like a defensive lineman in a silk bathrobe. "And I don't want you staring at my butt whilst I'm putting on a bodysuit, okay?!"
Dianna just stood there, blinking once.
Then—slowly, beautifully—she grinned.
Because Roxie wasn't pushing her away.
She was putting weight between them. Drawing a little line not out of shame, but because she thought this was special. Sacred, even. It made Dianna want to be a menace, sure. Maybe say something scandalous. Maybe sneak after her and peek anyway just to hear her squeal.
But it also made her want to cry.
Because Roxie, Titania, the girl who could bend steel with her pinkies and burn holes in the sky—was Catholic to her toes, and now she was trying to figure out how to make room in her worldview for a girlfriend.
And she was blushing... for Dianna. Oh God. Roxie was so cute it hurt. Roxie turned to leave again, still glowing faintly, arms crossed like they might hold in the last scrap of her dignity.
She didn't get two steps.
Dianna launched herself forward—arms spread wide, mouth already puckered. She aimed straight for Roxie's forehead.
Or, well… she tried.
It was only after a very inelegant jump that Dianna realized that unless she was in a panic she did not, in fact, have a two-foot vertical.
She landed with a little oof, then stood there glaring up at Roxie's face like it had committed a personal foul. "Bend down," she demanded.
Roxie blinked. "What—"
"Bend down." Dianna huffed. "I'm too short to kiss your forehead. So either bend down or pick me up. You are too cute for me not to kiss!"
And Roxie, didn't hesitate. She just listened and goddess, weapon, Titania—obeyed her little 5'3" Australian.
Slowly, cautiously, she leaned forward like Dianna might do something outrageous.
Which was fair. Because she did.
Dianna grabbed her by the ears, planted a wet, obnoxious smack on her forehead, and whispered, low and sultry:
"Fine. I will allow you your privacy." Then she put her lips next to Roxies ear and purred. "But only 'cause I already have enough memories of you to spank the monkey to anyway."
Roxie choked.
Then Dianna bit her ear—playful, teasing, affectionate—and skipped back down the hallway like she was going to recess.
Roxie stood there in the hallway, glowing faintly, blue light curling off her shoulders like steam.
And she sputtered audibly. Like a car motor refusing to turn over. The image invaded her mind. And she fought it but lost. Dianna doing... that! By her self while thinking about Roxie! The idea alone nearly killed her! "Wh—Di—wh—MONKEY?!" she shouted louder than she intended to. "You haven't!"
From the living room: snickering.
From down the hall: nothing but retreating footsteps and one very smug gremlin aura. "Oh yea," Dianna called over her shoulder. "All the time!" Then she turned and walked backwards giving Roxie a wicked grin. "I'll show you later if ya like!"
Roxie made a noise, something like a wounded opossum and flared an incredibly intense cobalt.
She ducked into her bedroom as if she could run from the mental image and absolutely unabashed invitation.
---
Roxie slammed the bedroom door harder than she meant to, it banged shut like the door of a selpuchre! That woman!!!
Roxie stood motionless for a moment, her back against the wood, one hand splayed across her chest like she could trap her heart before it burst. Blue light pulsed from her skin in breathless waves—gentle, radiant, shameful. It drifted upward like incense, like smoke from a burnt offering. And that made it worse! For this had been contained before! It only rose when her heart was beyond control and she was in fear or pain. And yet, Dianna could almost cause it at her will. As if she could manifest Roxie's soul with an improper invitation!
God, she thought. Have mercy.
Because she couldn't stop thinking about it.
The words. The mouth they came from. The way they curled around her ear like a velvet ribbon and dragged her down into the flesh.
"I already have enough memories of you to spank the monkey to anyway." Roxie said with a mocking Australian accent. She dared!
The phrasing—crude, devilish, obscene—played on a loop behind her eyes like a curse she didn't know how to un-speak. Roxie reeled, one foot dragging backward, as if she could stumble away from the memory. She couldn't.
It was already tattooed on the inside of her skull.
And her body—traitorous, mortal, warm—thrummed with it.
She spun, paced, threw her hands through her hair like maybe if she messed herself up enough she could be less of a person and more of a storm. Her thoughts tripped over themselves, cascading like stained glass shattered underfoot.
You are not supposed to want this.
You are not supposed to think about her mouth like that.
You are not supposed to imagine her touching herself in the dark, whispering your name like it meant something.
She choked. Her whole body clenched. It was not just the idea of pleasure—it was the knowledge that Dianna had made her the object of it. And that?
That undid her. For she had always been too tall, too much, too quiet. A little too tidy around the edges, more nun than girl. And yet Dianna had fantasized about her, even without invitation!
Roxie fell forward onto the desk, bracing herself with both arms like a sailor trying to ride out a storm.
"Oni'nah," she whispered. The word caught in her throat like a stone.
The sin of Onin. To spill the gift of God. To squander the body's covenant for selfish longing.
It had been drilled into her bones in whispers and cautionary tales. And now her whole soul trembled on the edge of it—not from action, but from imagined response. From the awful, gorgeous knowledge of Dianna in her bed, bare and smiling and thinking of her.
She was burning alive.
And still, there was no bitterness in the flame.
Only awe.
Dianna was not cruel. She was not lewd to shame her. She had said it because she meant it. Because she had no armor. No veil between her desire and the world. She gave her adoration freely. Unashamed.
Roxie covered her mouth with both hands and let out a sound that was almost a sob, almost a laugh. Roxie was trying to strangle the smile off her lips. It should not be there! And Dianna?
How dare she!
How dare Dianna make her feel wanted like that—before they'd even gone on a proper date.
How dare she turn affection into something sacred and silly at the same time.
How dare she speak with the honesty of a bell tolling in a cathedral— inviting Roxie into the gates of hell between her legs...
And get away with it!
"I love her," Roxie whispered into her palms. "I love her and she's going to ruin me."
She turned slowly, eyes falling on the armoire in the corner.
The armor waited in silence.
She straightened. Her body still hummed with longing, but the pulse beneath her skin had steadied.
Later, she told herself. You can fall to pieces later. You've got another self to wear tonight.
She moved toward the doors of her closet as if approaching a shrine. Inside waited the duffel wherein lay her second skin.
Because in the next moment, the artist would kneel. And the Queen would rise. That thought cooled her blood.
Roxie pulled the bag from where it had been secreted away. She pulled the zipper open and pulled out the boots, placing them on the floor. Next came the vest which was laid on the bed. Then the bodysuit, still too small but she did not look at it now with hatred. Something in her shifted. Dianna desired her. Even with the knowledge that she was Titania.
So Roxie pulled out the bag in which the red dress had lived. Roxie pulled the string at the nape of her neck and let the dress fall to the ground. She gathered the red material and laid it out, smoothing it respectfully and sealing the bag. No need to wrinkle it. She hung it back in the closet and then, for the first time in a long time she slipped into the armor of Titania slowly. Not rushing into the heat of battle or a rescue. By choice. Bodysuit, boots, vest and gloves. Then came Titania's face. The helmet.
Roxie cradled the helmet to her breast. Looking into the reflection of her own green eyes. "Hello, old friend." She said softly, petting the helmet. "I didn't mean what I said earlier. You aren't too much." Roxie sniffled and wiped her eyes. "It didn't occur to me that people would think this part of us was anything other than scary. And we lied so much. A dozen dozen confessions to keep you in the bag. Why didn't you tell me that we could tell maybe a couple people?"
Roxie let the tears fall now and wiped them away from the mirrored visor. "I'm sorry I was growing to hate you. That wasn't fair. You just want to do good. It was me who forgot that strength and softness can exist in the same frame and that honesty is always the best way to proceed."
She smiles. "So I promise, Titania. We can make this life work. If you let me be honest with her. She will love you too, I think."
The helmet was, as ever silent.
But inside?
Inside, The Queen took her place in the throne of Roxie's mind. Not a burden or secret guardian any longer, but a ruler true and pure. "Let's put on a show for her, aye?" And Roxie slid the helmet on and locked the chinstrap.
The helmet hissed as the pneumatic seal locked itself in place.
Roxie stood to her full height and squared her shoulders and faced the door.
Titania moved to greet her court.