2022-05-29 - Not All Apologies Are Hard

No one's up early after a late, emotional night, but Una's still more an early riser than not, so it's probably no surprise that she's bustling around the kitchen in the hours before noon, already carefully sliding fresh-baked cookies off of the baking sheet and on to the awaiting wire racks. They're oatmeal-based of some description (probably chocolate chip, but these things can vary; they're probably not raisins, though), and this looks to be the last of the trays: there are a couple dozen cookies there now, but not more than you'd get out of a single batch.

The baker herself is showing none of her glam from the previous evening, face wiped clean of all makeup, her hair pinned up in a messy up-do, wearing just old jeans and a v-neck t-shirt, feet bare.

Jules comes padding into the kitchen, quiet on her feet and with her lips pressed determinedly shut. She's at least washed her face free of smudges of eyeliner and mascara -- she definitely slept in her make-up, too worn-out to free herself of it first -- but she's not exactly fresh-faced and rested from a good night's sleep.

"I thought I heard you down here. What are you making? Only one kind of thing so far, that's a good sign." Jules bypasses the cookies out of an abundance of caution and moves to make herself coffee. "I need coffee. Do you need coffee? Do you want me to make you one? Please say yes so I'll know you're not mad at me."

Una turns from her task, holding off on sliding the last few cookies of the tray so that she can watch Jules' progress, her expression turning increasingly more quizzical as the other woman talks.

Slowly, "I hadn't realised you tracked my moods based on my baking; that's interesting to know." Her tone's very even, and the look she gives Jules now is far more sympathetic than concerned. "Why would I be mad at you, Jules? I'm just glad you're okay. Yes, I'll have some coffee. Do you want food? I could scramble you some eggs, if you like? Or cookies."

“Well yeah. Last time you were mad at me, you made enough stuff to fill every Tupperware, remember?” Jules gets busy making coffee for both herself and Una, opting for the glass pot instead of the individual K-cup pods that Della favors. “We’re gonna need a shit to of coffee this morning,” she mutters to herself while scooping grounds into the basket.

She glances over her shoulder at Una, eyebrows lifting. “Can I say yes to all the food? Cookies with coffee, yes please, but also eggs because protein sounds good. At least I don’t have a hangover. That would make everything that much worse. And you should be mad at me because I was an insensitive jerk, and even if Ava poisoned me, that doesn’t change the fact that it’s absolutely none of my business how you conduct your love life and who you’re seeing or not seeing or if you even want to see anybody. I’m sorry I can’t keep my stupid mouth shut, and I’m sorry I said the stuff about you getting laid. I just want you to be happy, and generally people are happy when they’re seeing someone else, especially if it’s new and fun and the other person is obviously into you and you’re having good sex. All those things make me happy. Oh, Jesus. Here I go again.”

Logorrhea remains active. Jules shuts herself up with a frustrated, guilty expression and starts humming beneath her breath.

It's a good thing Una got the full run-down on Just What Went Down, because without it? She'd be pretty confused right now. As it is, it takes her a few seconds to work through the overwhelming information drop that Jules offers, during which she inhales sharply a couple of times-- though it doesn't seem to influence her expression: still sympathetic.

"Oh," she says, finally. And then: "It's fine, Jules. It's fine. It's not your fault you can't keep your mouth shut, and while clearly I am wired differently to you, that doesn't mean you're not coming from a place of--" She hesitates, struggling to choose the right word. "Care," is what she finally decides on.

"Let me make you some eggs."

“Wired like an asshole.” The coffee’s going now, so Jules plops down on the bench to wait, palming a cookie to munch on in the meantime.

“How are you wired?” She asks curiously, only to immediately follow it up with, “You don’t have to answer that.”

Una takes her time to answer that, busying herself with egg cartons and frying pans and toast for the toaster. It gives her a moment to compose her thoughts into something more structured; gives her time, too, to compose her feelings on the subject, and the inherent awkwardness. She's doing her best to deal with Jules in a straight way, and not let her fear of the response get in the way; it's still hard.

"I'm ace," she says, finally, with her back to Jules so that she can fuss with the frying pan, and not at all so that she doesn't have to see the other woman's expression. "Asexual. I don't really feel sexual attraction."

“Oh.” Jules sits with this, shaving the cookie into her mouth right away to keep from blurting out more. Even in her condition, Grandma Black’s instructions hold: no talking with your mouth full.

“What does that mean?” she says eventually, after she’s swallowed both her bite and her initial response. “I mean, okay, you just said you don’t feel sexual attraction. Like, ever? Is this why you get so embarrassed when we talk about sex? Except you also make the best dick jokes. Don’t get it.” Time to shove the other half of the cookie into her maw.

It's probably not all that visible, given the way Una has turned her face away, but she's half-smiling at this point. It's not impossible that this is actually the best time to have this conversation, when she can be sure she's hearing exactly what Jules thinks; no surprises for later.

"I... I mean. I don't look at people and think 'I would like to have sex with you'. It doesn't mean that I can't or won't or haven't had sex, just that... there are different kinds of attraction, I suppose. But mostly, I'm embarrassed because I'm shy, and I don't have the kind of experience behind me that makes you comfortable, and I don't feel like I can contribute to those conversations, and if I try, I'll just humiliate myself and look stupid. Dick jokes are easy; everyone knows something about dicks, to greater or lesser degree."

To this Jules can readily agree, "Everyone does know something about dicks. Mostly that they're a very weird body part, objectively speaking." She stands up to claim another cookie, just in case. "But I don't think you'd humiliate yourself. Why would you humiliate yourself, just because you say something like 'sorry guys, I haven't had a lot of sex'? There's nothing wrong with that. Why would we think there's anything wrong with that? Different strokes for different folks or something like that. But I promise I will try to stop teasing you -- I tease you a lot, don't I? -- because I don't want you to feel uncomfortable. Shit, now I feel bad."

Dismay appears on Jules' expression as she bites into cookie number two.

"They're utterly ridiculous," Una confirms, and this at least gets her turning her head so that she can grin at Jules for it, even if the grin is not set to last, faltering and falling as the other woman continues.

"I think," she says, slowly, "I still just feel embarrassed about it. Twenty-five years old, still shy about sex. Still half afraid that-- well. Lots of things, I guess. You do tease me a lot, but it's okay. I know you do it out of care, okay? You and Della, you're helping me come out of my shell. It's not like I want to hide away."

"What are you afraid of?" Jules asks when she swallows. Except, again, "You don't have to answer that. Again. Sorry. God. I just can't shut up, can I? I mean, you know that I can't shut up, but do you know how much it sucks? I feel like I ruined the party yesterday. Maybe not for everyone, but for myself at the very least. Anyway." She pulls herself back on track, brow furrowing with the conscious effort to rein in her thoughts.

"I tease you because I adore you. But there's other ways to show that, you know?" The coffee has percolated. She gets up, now to pull down mugs and fill them up. "Remind me, how do you like your coffee? Milk, milk, milk..." Jules sing-songs the last words as she heads to the fridge to retrieve, well, the milk.

Una gives the eggs a stir with her spatula, and laughs. "Well, I had a good time, so you didn't ruin it for me, okay? I even had a dance. And it's not like it was your fault, so please don't blame yourself for it. I... can't imagine how much it sucks, though, no. It's possibly my worst nightmare. I'm awkward enough at the best of times. I'm so sorry that it happened."

She skips past that big question: what is she afraid of? The rest is easier. "No milk for me, just coffee. I adore you too, Jules, and I'm sorry that it doesn't always come across that way either. You're so passionate and determined , and I admire that."

So Jules adds a splash of milk to one mug but not the other, then returns to carton to the fridge. "Well, thanks," she says as she rummages for a spoon. "That's better than you thinking I'm just kind of a mess. I think I'm just kind of a mess half the time. More than half? I don't know. Whatever. Here's your coffee."

Jules picks up her own mug. This time, she sits down at the table instead of the bench, since eggs will be along shortly. "I'm glad you had a good time last night. Who'd you dance with? Anyone I know? I'm kinda bummed because I didn't really get to the dancing, I was too busy running my mouth and then running off into the bathroom, and holy fucking shit, I am mad that I missed out on my dancing, because I definitely feel sexual attraction and-- aaaaaaaand cookie." Munch.

"Jules," says Una, slowly, as she takes the coffee, abandoning the eggs for a moment so that she can breathe on the surface of the beverage and then takes a sip-that-isn't-quite, since it's too hot, really, to drink immediately. "I think we're all a mess. Most of the time. That's half the point, maybe. Thanks for the coffee."

She goes back to the eggs, scraping them out of the pan and on to a plate (and turning the element off), then adding toast. It gets brought to the table, along with her coffee, and after handing it over, she sits opposite, both hands wrapped around the mug. She blushes, too, though maybe that's just because of that final comment of Jules (or maybe not), and hesitates before she comments. "I'm sorry you missed dancing, too. And glad that you're happy with Mikaere. I danced with Itzhak; Ravn's friend? Do you know him?"

Jules looks fierce indeed as she concentrates on this bite of cookie. Her expression softens, though, as Una comes to join her. “I haven’t met him, but I’ve heard about him. Ravn called him a bisexual disaster unicorn, and honestly that makes him sound awesome. Would you be okay with that, if someone’s bi? I mean having a dance with him is not the same as dating him, I just jumped waaaaay ahead, and would you even be interested in dating him? Or anyone else? Given the sex thing?”

Before she digs into her plate of food, Jules pauses to ask, “Wait, why is there only one plate, aren’t you eating? You didn’t have to just make me food.”

"It was just a dance," says Una, firmly, which is not at all helped by the way she blushes. "I already ate, but it's okay. I don't mind making you food. I like cooking for people, remember? I like knowing that I'm helping to look after people. And you had a shitty night, and I realise that it's not exactly just over, just because the ball is. So... let me know what I can do to help, okay?"

"Mmhmm, suuuuure it was." Is that Jules' inner monologue exposed, or is she teasing?

She occupies herself by attacking the eggs. "Okay," she agrees between bites. "I honestly don't know what anyone can do to help. Mikaere said he'd come over later and see if he can fix me -- you haven't met him, have you? He's got the whole talking inside other people's heads deal going on, and whatever else that comes with. So maybe he can unbreak my brain. I don't know. I don't want to be stuck like this. He didn't think it would last forever because apparently Veil stuff doesn't usually stick around like that-- I am going to fucking burn down Ava's damn greenhouse-- but he could be wrong. And even if he's not, * no one* needs to hear the inside of someone else's head. It must be like watching a train wreck, where you know it's bad, but you can't look away."

Inner monologue or teasing, it doesn't matter: Una blushes furiously.

"I haven't. I hope he can-- for your sake. The rest of us, you know we'll deal. I bet he's right, too. It won't last forever. I mean, if it does... well, it won't. It can't possibly. So it's fine. Everything's going to be fine. You're not going to be stuck like this, I promise." There's sheer determination in Una's voice, as if she can make it so simply by sheer force of will.

“God, I hope not.” Jules smiles a bleak little smile across the way. “In any case, I really appreciate you being so understanding about it. I’m going to try to keep out of everyone’s way in the meantime. Thank God finals are over and there’s a bit of a break before the summer session starts. I called in sick to work. Well, I texted, because at least I can control something that way. Said I got food poisoning at the ball. Which is more or less true.”

"You liar," Una teases, but it comes with an understanding nod. "Good idea. Spend some time out in the garden, if you like? I promise there is nothing the matter with my strawberries, or any of the vegetables growing out there: good, normal plants, nothing more. But I'll understand if you want to avoid that kind of thing for a while anyway."

She hesitates, giving Jules a wary glance. "You're... okay?"

“I mean, I’ve been better.” Jules just shrugs while letting out a big huff. “But I think so long as I haven’t ruined any of my relationships by word vomiting, yeah, I think I’m okay. I’m still pissed as hell. But I’ll get over it, assuming this all goes away. Maybe this is the kind of day to go on a long hike, or go kayaking, so long as it’s somewhere where no one from work will see me. It’d probably help me blow off some steam, too.”

Una is being so good about all of this, but alas, she is not the right person to make the obvious suggestion: sex, lots of sex.

So she nods, instead. "That's probably not a bad idea," she says. "You should Mikaere is coming over? Get him to take you out somewhere."

It's a subtle thing, really, but not so very subtle: Una doesn't want Jules to go out alone. (Not now, probably not ever.)

“Yeah, maybe I will. Maybe I’ll text him and tell him to get his butt over here earlier so we can go do something this afternoon.” Jules readily agrees with Una’s advice, even if it’s lacking the most obvious suggestion. “I should take a shower first though. Thanks, Una.”

"Go shower," says Una, which is probably her way of saying 'you're welcome'. She smiles.

Things could be worse.