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“You ever really think about jellyfish?”
“Yes? I mean I had to, Sash, for multiple real college classes.” Anne shook her head, “But what particular jellyfish thing are we thinking about?”
It was late, after Anne’s shift at the Aquarium of the Pacific, but before the place closed, and she and Sasha had developed a habit of walking around before the lights went out whenever the latter came by to pick up the former. The new jellyfish exhibit in the new wing, built to replace the long-since-gone one neither of them had seen (built back when touchscreen computers were futuristic and remarkable, rather than everywhere), wound its way around the back of the new amphibian exhibit, which was more relevant to Anne’s work.
“They just like… go their whole lives drifting around with no brain. Just going with the flow.”
“Like you during your famous summer in Europe?”
Sasha groaned, “Every day I regret telling you about that.”
“What! It’s basically a novel - finding romance in Paris... and then again in Germany. And in Norway. You did a whole trilogy!”
It really had been remarkable, from the way Sasha described it. Except for Hans. Everyone hated Hans, except for Sasha, who mostly thought he was funny now.
“And they were all wonderful or wonderful-adjacent,” Sasha peered into the tube of jellyfish, “but I’m being serious. Kind of. Do they even know they glow like that? It’s totally normal for them, like oops! Just another Tuesday being beautiful and not even knowing it.”
Anne wanted to laugh, but unfortunately was caught suddenly off guard by looking at Sasha’s face in the jellyfish glow.
“Anne? You good, girl?”
This is not the first time that Anne has had the realization that Sasha Waybright is beautiful. It is, in fact, the seventh. She remembers every single one. That’s probably normal.
The first time was years ago now, when they were both so much worse, even before Amphibia. Sunset approached languid at the end of one of the long days of summer, and a race down the street in grocery carts had ended in a crash and tumble. Anne’s path towards getting back onto her feet was long and winding, knees swaying, and she looked over at Sasha and saw her laid back onto the asphalt, knees and elbows scraped, shirt wrecked, laughing at the sky. The golden light of the setting sun reflected off of her hair and the broken cart behind her.
Marcy was fine, of course. In retrospect she had been the smart one from day one.
“Huh? Yeah, sure.”
“I’m not here making cringe jokes for the grade schoolers, Boonchuy.” Sasha turned away from the moon jelly tank, “C’mon, I wanna say hi to the sharks. They’re my people.”
“You know they don’t actually eat people, right?”
“Neither do I! I stop after the first bite too.”
Of all the things Sasha Waybright could have said in that moment, that might in fact have been the thing Anne was least prepared to hear her say. And yet it was said, and a moment later with nary a wink to suggest a meaning, Sasha made her way back out towards the outdoor shark tank, Anne following behind in a sort of a haze.
The third time Anne realized Sasha was beautiful came as unexpected as any other - watching as she charmed some boy from another school out of money so they could go see a movie. Anne was not, at the time, entirely clear why they needed to get money from someone else when their parents (Sasha’s especially) had demonstrated an admirable commitment towards being willing to buy them movie tickets previously, but Sasha insisted it would be fun. And, in the spirit of being several years older and wiser and through some rough therapy, Anne had to admit that she hadn’t been particularly interested in saying no to the idea.
The sharks had chosen that day, it seemed, to avoid the traditional viewing area, gathered somewhere at the other end of the tank.
“We could go up to the overlook, you know,” Anne mentioned as Sasha nearly but not quite (only because, Anne assumed, she had been reprimanded for doing so often enough) pressed her nose to the glass, “See them from up top?”
“What? No. It’s fine.” Sasha replied, face not turning away from the tank.
Anne looked up towards the upper viewing deck, then back to where they stood. “Are you sure? It’s like a single set of stairs.”
“If we go up, I’ll never know if I can summon them with my mind.”
Anne rolled her eyes, but smiled, “Right. Well, if you figure out how, make sure you let Li know - it would make their job so much easier.” Probably. Admittedly, Anne spent most of her time in the batrachology exhibit, but she imagined that no one would say no to summoning sharks to do their bidding.
“Mm, nope, no dice.” Sasha frowned into the tank, but then: “Wait! I see one! It’s coming this way!” She beamed at Anne, pointing. “I know I went through all the therapy and learned a bunch of lessons, but I can still get minions!”
Ugh. Make that eight.
The fifth time Anne realized Sasha was beautiful came after Amphibia, as the two of them started to drift apart in high school. It was long after classes had ended for the day, Anne having stuck behind to tutor Bio and making her way out to the junker of a used car she had been given by her parents (and given to them by friends who had received it from their friends). She looked out, as she only rarely did, over the football field and saw Sasha laughing with the other cheerleaders as they wrapped practice for the day.
The lights on the football field, which Anne mostly knew for their role in helping her identify the color of her car, caught Sasha in some kind of way, and she waved up. Anne hauled her backpack over her shoulder and, naturally, waved back.
Funny, she thinks, the sorts of details that stick in her memory. The light scent of smoke in the air from some California wildfire or another, the sound of the rare sprinkler working overtime to keep anything green and non-native alive in the Los Angeles heat, the way her foot nearly caught on a tuft of dead grass poking up through the asphalt of the old lot, where she parked to avoid needing to use the new lot at all costs.
Sasha turning away. Sasha winding her arm around another girl on the team to draw her close by the waist. That small pang of hurt at the center of her chest.
What had it meant? How could she have found someone else, after everything? Never mind that they weren’t as close anymore. Anne had tried so hard to connect to anyone else in a way that matched what she had had on Amphibia, and here Sasha was just…
It was three years yet to go of therapy later when she had realized how stupid that was, but… what are your teenage years for, if not being stupid in the hopes you’ll run out of mistakes before you’re an adult and everyone agrees that you’re responsible now without telling you how?
As the two women walked away, Anne cleared her throat. “Okay, that’s the sharks done, we have time for one more thing, and I’m picking.”
A groan. “Nooo, you’re gonna pick the stupid birds!”
A smile. “I’m going to pick the stupid birds.”
Sasha sighed, her whole body sagging, “Tell me the truth, what’s this revenge for?”
Anne shrugged, smirking, “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. But listen, it’s great! The lorikeets rule. And the enclosure closes when the sun goes down, so we need to get a move on.” She nearly pushed Sasha in her haste to reach the entrance, which thankfully stood not too far from the outdoor shark tank.
“They ruled when we were, like, seven.” Sasha gestured at the wooden walls and upper netting of the enclosure, “It would be one thing if they’d updated anything about this since then, but nope!”
“They’re going to!” Anne replied, then leaned in to whisper. “We are literally running a fundraiser later this year, it got backburnered because of the new wing.”
Sasha blinked, then crossed her arms and let an easy smile into her features, “You know, Anne, I didn’t realize how prime a source of aquarium gossip you were. I could leak this to Monterey Bay, you know. I’m not under NDA.”
“Oh, Sasha,” Anne replied, placing a gentle hand on her friend’s shoulder before looking her straight in the eyes, “I would destroy you first.”
Sasha took a curiously long moment before responding, “You forget that I own both real swords and a working car.”
A long moment passed between them.
“That’s nice. I’m buying us nectar for the birds.”
“It’s not buying if you get it for free because you work here!” Sasha called after Anne’s retreating back before, regardless of her bird-related feelings, obediently marching towards the opening of the lorikeet enclosure.
Anne found her way back to Sasha after a moment with two tiny paper cups of bird-attracting nectar in hand, “You’re just mad because one of them pooped on you once.”
“Anne Boonchuy, look me in the eye and tell me that getting pooped on wouldn’t make you think less of- wait you lived on a farm, never mind.”
As Sasha, scowling, picked out the less full nectar cup, Anne nodded, “Yep. I have seen things, Sasha. Non-TV-Y7 things.”
“Yeah, yeah,” Sasha rolled her eyes, opening the first door of two to get into the lorikeet habitat, “You first, poop expert.”
“I didn’t get a herpetology degree to be bothered by that name.” Anne went over to the inner door of the airlock-like Keep The Birds In area, “You have no idea how much of being a biologist is looking at poop.”
“Cannot stress enough that that isn’t the cool retort you think it is.” And yet, when Anne opened the inner door, Sasha stepped through.
The lorikeet exhibit followed a paved path through the foliage where the birds actually lived, and it was down this path that the two set forth. No one else was in there at this point in the day, so close to closing, so the birds also seemed to have decided to hang up their bird hats early, or at least it seemed as much for the first several steps.
“You know, without the birds around, there’s not a whole lot to do in here.” Sasha noted.
Anne rolled her eyes, “Congratulations on figuring out the secret weakness of aquariums: they’re less fun when there’s no animals to look at.”
“I’m not complaining, I’m just saying. Besides, fish can’t hide when you can see the whole tank.”
“Yeah, yeah - oh, can you hold my nectar cup for a sec? My shoelace has been giving me trouble all day, I’m gonna just… triple knot it, or something.”
“You could always go back to just the one.”
“Not when there’s an aquarium dress code I can’t.”
“... Wait, does that mean you’ve considered it?”
As Anne knelt down to tame her bootlaces, though, a commotion broke out almost instantly above her. Several bright tropical birds, emboldened by the fact that they now only had to focus on one human who was both standing still and carrying two cups of nectar, swooped as gracefully as they were capable of being in towards Sasha. By the time Anne looked up, her arms had become substitute branches for four of them - three on the left and one on the right. A fifth, eager to join the party but seemingly not interested in food, landed in Sasha’s hair. Despite all her grouching to the contrary, though, Sasha stayed still, looking at the birds with slightly wide eyes and a smile that betrayed her attitude.
Number nine. This was getting ridiculous. What, was it going to take until ten to admit that she just generally thinks Sasha is beautiful? Twenty? Two hundred seven, when they’re sitting on the porch of some retirement home? Or, at this rate, two hundred seven, next month, while Sasha is eating a cheeseburger or something?
And so Anne, ever braver than wise, even these years later, made an executive decision. She stood up and, shocking both the birds and the woman in front of her, grabbed Sasha’s face in a kiss, pressing her lips hard against her friend’s.
As kisses go, there have certainly been many with better technique. Anne did not have the benefit of a summer in Europe kissing Europeans of assorted nations and genders, or much of any romance at all. She had tried in high school and college, but nothing ever really stuck, so she had redoubled her focus on frogs instead. Which had left her with a steady job working at the Aquarium of the Pacific’s new Amphibians exhibit that she, you know, helped build and source the animals for, but not much in the way of romance.
Sasha, as kissing partners go, was unhelpful, but the birds at least made sure that it was quick as they scattered, messing up both women’s hair and causing two practically-empty nectar cubs to fall to the ground, now fully empty.
Anne took a step back while Sasha remained rooted in place, “Ha ha! Wow! Sorry! Thank you? What?” The words bubbled up disjointed, more to fight the sudden silence in the absence of birds than any practical purpose.
Sasha remained quiet a moment, raising a hand up to her lips, and then: “Really, Anne? In the bird exhibit?”
A blush rose to Anne’s cheeks, “It seemed like a good idea when I did it! You were literally covered in birds!”
“And that, what, made me more irresistible?” Sasha laughed, “You freak.” She stepped forward, grabbing the lapel of Anne’s shirt and pulling her into a second, much more co-operative, kiss.
“So kissing you was, uh, a good thing.” Anne noted once Sasha relinquished her mouth back to her.
“Yeah, idiot.” Sasha laughed, tilting her head back and covering her eyes with one hand, “Oh my god, Marcy isn’t going to believe that you kissed me first.”
“You’ve been talking to Marcy about kissing me?”
“Among other things.” Sasha sighed, “Alright, Anne Boonchuy, you’ve officially won a dinner date with Sasha Waybright instead of just eating dinner with Sasha Waybright. She will even pay.”
“Wait, like, right now? Are you sure? The restaurants around here are a little pricey for you to pay for both of us. Neither of us has Marcy’s mega successful webcomic money that pays for our Los Angeles apartment. I guess there’s the Yard House, but-”
“There’s one you’re forgetting.”
Anne froze. “This is unfair. You can’t make me.”
“It’s not so bad!”
“I don't want our first date to be to a themed shrimp restaurant-”
“Should’ve thought of that before you kissed me at the Aquarium of the Pacific, then. Now you have to deal with the Gump.”
Anne had been to Bubba Gump once, early in her tenure at the aquarium. She had vowed never to return. Sasha knew this. And yet-
“This is revenge for the birds.”
“This is revenge for the birds!”