The things that you said // Cordelia & Fran

bornforthegoodfight:

   Adrenaline still surged, encouraged by the rhythm of her heart, as the towel soaked up the speck of remaining slime from their most recent case. They were all transitioning into this new life, one with this eternal feeling that something was missing. Grief is a process, not a singular event, and Fran knew this all too well. There was a fondness she’d never be able to explain for the brunette sat across from her, but what it was should never find words anyway. 

   ”Always left with the mess,” she teased, attempting conversation, “aren’t we, princess?” The nickname permeated the air with its lingering bitter familiarity while Fran remained blissfully ignorant of the power that one word could hold.

“Literally every time.” she complained, each word punctuated by the grating sound of a towel scraping against the carpet. “Y'know, it really wouldn’t kill Angel to clean up his own messes once in–”

Cordelia’s rant died in her throat as Fran’s words completely registered in her mind. Fran had called her princess. No one had used that nickname for her since…

“…Doyle,” she murmured under her breath. Doing her best ignore the small pang of grief blooming in her chest, Cordelia sat back on her heels and stared at the other woman, the slime-covered towel laying forgotten in between the two of them. “Did you just call me princess?”