Party Rocking || Aritty
WHO: Ari Abrams & Kitty Wilde [ @awildecard ], ft. Evie Miller
WHEN: Evie’s birthday party
WHERE: Evie’s apartment
WHAT: Awkwardness, tbh. Just lots of that.
Ari
“Y’know, in a way, I’m like, your very own Drogon.” Ari’s kinda tipsy. Just kinda. It’s a party and she doesn’t drink much, so whenever she drinks even just a bit, she gets a bit tipsy pretty fast. But it’s fine, cause that’s what parties are for. For getting kinda tipsy, and for wheeling the birthday girl around like she’s a badass Targaryen dragon. Rawr, etc. “Wheee!” Well, that’s not super dragon-like. But it’s whatever. She can be a badass dragon anyway.
“Mmkay Drogon needs a dorito break, Khaleesi.” She sort of nudges Evie off her lap, but in a nice way cause she’s her friend and Ari loves her. She’s not horse-faced at all, where’d Kitty come up with that, anyway? She’s obviously friend-faced. “We can go find you a Jon Snow later.” Ari chuckles as she pushes her chair away from her friend, cause she knows Evie is about as interested in having a love life as Ari herself is. Which is to say, super interested in theory but like, totally not into putting herself through the endless pain of making it happen.
“Heck yes, come to papa.” She practically sing-songs, wheeling herself to the snacks table and reaching for the dorito bowl that’s totally calling her name. Except- “Aw, man!” Someone left the bowl too far away from the edge of the snacks table, and she can’t reach. Luckily for her, Kitty is right there, and Ari’s face lights up at the sight. Cause she can hand her the doritos. Of course. “Hey, K-Dawg. Can I get a hand?”
Kitty
She’s not jealous. It’s not in her nature. And even if it was (a very real possibility she’ll never cop to), she’s certainly not jealous of horse face. And the way Ari is gleefully wheeling her around -- buzzed on the vodka she’d brought to share with her.
No, she’s not jealous. She just thinks’s it’s ridiculous for a woman of her age to be acting so childish. (Though if she like falls off and breaks her nose or something, Kitty supposes it won’t be the worst thing to happen). Honestly, can’t she find someone her own age to play with? The guy from the Six Flags commercial is probably free.
Whatever.
It's not a thing, her eyes are always green thank you very much! She’s just glaring because the lighting is poor, obviously.
At least that’s what she tells herself when Ari rolls up to her and asks for the Doritos. She doesn’t even try to hide the eye roll. “Why don’t you ask your Khaleesi to help you?” she says pointedly, even as she reaches for the bowl and shoves it a little harder than necessary in Ari’s direction - she’s not a monster, she’s not going to keep a girl from her snacks, even if she is unreasonably annoyed. Annoyed. Not jealous. Becuase she’s definitely not that.
Ari
Dayum. Kitty’s mad. Ari’s not like, the best at reading body language or anything, but even she can tell Kitty’s mad. There’s the near-shoving of the bowl, and the stank eye, and the way she says Khaleesi, like it’s a bad word or something. Which don’t even make no sense, man. Khaleesi is, like, the best. And she knows Kitty loves her some Daenerys T. So her problem is clearly with...
“What’s poor E-Mill done to ya, K-Dawg?” She munches on a Dorito, pleased to find it’s her beloved cool ranch flavor and not tex mex. Don’t get her wrong, she likes all doritos, but cool ranch is like, the Khaleesi of doritos. “You’re lookin’ at her like she’s Daenerys and you’re, like... Cersei, or something.” Ari grins, clearly teasing. “Told ya you’re a Lannister.” She pops a dorito in her mouth and winks at Kitty, cause she’s kinda tipsy and being kinda tipsy makes her do stuff like winking. Alcohol. Not even once.
“No, seriously, tho. You all right?” She tries to look concerned, but the eating is kinda making it hard so she swallows and leaves the bowl on the table with the rest of the snacks. Concerned face. Right. “It’s a party!” She shimmies her shoulders, hoping it’ll help Kitty crack a smile or something. “What’s botherin’ you, Your Grace?”
Kitty
Ari’s pretty tipsy. Kitty can tell because, well, Ari doesn’t drink often so it doesn’t take a lot. And it’s kind of cute if she’s being honest, but like -- in a way that only makes her annoyance grow. Because she’s happy. Ari’s happy wheeling horse face around her stupid party, and she doesn’t get that a lot. That carefree drunken silliness.
And who is Kitty to ruin that with her -- somewhere in the back of her mind she shudders -- feelings.
This is why it’s better when she doesn’t have any. Why she’s taken to shacking up with people she doesn’t have a ton for, and who definitely don’t have any for her. Becuase feelings make you vulnerable. And Kitty’s never been good at that.
“Nothing,” she shrugs, forcing a smile as if to prove her point -- see look how fine I am! “I’m a Lannister.”
Ari
Lies. Shaaaame. If she had a little bell, she’d start going ding ding ding while chanting ‘shame’ after Kitty cause that was a lie and it wasn’t even a good one. So Ari rolls her eyes dramatically and then pretends she’s hitting Kitty with a switch, complete with sound effect and everything. “You are not fooling me.” She points to her own eyes and then at Kitty, in the universal gesture for ‘I’m watching you’. At some point she stopped being Jaqen and started imitating some kind of Mr. Miyagi type character instead, but it’s whatever, cause she’s being serious.
Kinda.
“C’mon. You can tell me. I’m Ari!” Friendly, inoffensive Ari with the open ears and nothing else. Friend, friend, friend. Yep. A friend. That’s what she is. Not friends, however? “You havin’ Puckertroubles?” Ari likes both Puckergals, don’t get her wrong. They’re pretty cool. Hot and tall, and like... yeah. Cool. Not just friends, those two. They’re...def on a diff level. She doesn’t mind them. She just kinda minds their relationships with Kitty.
In a friendly way.
Sure.
Kitty
She’d hate Ari right now, to be honest. If like, that was a thing a person could actually do. Hate Ari. She’s pretty sure it’s scientifically impossible. She’d ask Miss Science Queen, but honestly, she’s pretty sure she’ll blurt out like five offensive things before she gets to the question, so it’s better this way.
But the point is, Ari makes it impossible. So while it’d be a hell of a lot easier to totally hate her for the feelings she didn’t ask to have. She can’t.
She also apparently can’t lie about it, which is also a total drag. What’s the point of being a hot southern Christian gal if she can’t tell a convincing lie? Or pull an I-can’t-believe-it’s-not-genuine smile?
So instead, she’ll focus on truths she’s comfortable.
“Nah,” she reaches for her -- vodka a mountain dew (more vodka than dew, but whatever), a weird combination, kind of like them -- and casually takes a sip. “Taking a break from Puckergals. It’s whatever.”
Ari
“Good.”
Her eyes widen. Like, wider than normal. She knows her eyes are big af always. But that was like, so not what she should’ve said, cause Kitty seems sad and she’s prob sad she’s no longer doing whatever with the Puckergals (she knows ‘whatever’ is prob all sorts of like, acrobatic sex, but she doesn’t really wanna think about it) and Ari is supposed to be her friend. So ‘good’ is def like, the last thing she should’ve said.
“I mean.” She clears her throat, suddenly wishing she’d never even had a sip of alcohol cause her brain is foggy and normally she can, like, be Kitty’s friend separately from someone who kinda likes Kitty but not in a creepy way or anything, just in a ‘you’re heckin beautiful and smart and I’d def love to date you but I’m not an awful person so I wouldn’t wish me upon you’ way. You know? She’s panicking, is what she’s saying.
“I mean I’m glad you’re good? That’s good.” Her hands grip her wheels and she pushes herself back a couple inches, just like, putting space between herself and Kitty because damn, son. She’s bad at this. “The whole Puckerlovin’s prob not all it’s cracked up to be.” A shrug. She wouldn’t know. She hears it’s the bomb diggity and she’s sure it’s true, but whatever. She’s not here to tell Kitty she should go back to them, right? “You feelin’ ok about the break thing?”
Kitty
“Yeah.”
She is good. Not like, in this moment, exactly. Honestly, she’s still a bit miffed that Bill Nye got to live out her personal wheelie fantasy like right in front of her or whatever. But she’s good with the Puckerbreak.
Or she will be. She likes them both. In like a sexy way and as people, but she knows it’s not going anywhere. Puckerladies have to be free. And Kitty’s kind of done with the jealousy every time Jackie looks at Marley for too long or flirts with some loser trampy girl. It’s not going to be more than sex ever with either of them, so there’s really no point in racking up hell points over it.
Besides, she’s kind of sort of realized lately, against all odds she actually likes spending time with Ari. And it doesn’t leave her feeling weird about herself or jealous (with the exception of this particular moment, obvs) - she actually, sort of feels good?
But like, she can’t just say those words. Outloud. To Ari. She’s a lot of crazy (beautiful, talented, smart) -- but she hasn’t totally lost her marbles.
So she settles for, “Like I said, it’s whatever. Jackie’s got a weird third nipple anyway,” or so goes her story, and she’s sticking to it. “It’s super gross.”
Ari
“Good.” She doesn’t take it back this time. If anyone deserves a gross, weird third nipple, it’s a Puckerman. Both Puckermans. “Gotta balance out all that...” she gestures at her own body, even if it’s frankly like, the saddest comparison ever when she actually means the P-sisters’ bodies, but she thinks Kitty will know what she means anyway. “All that.” Yeah. Let’s leave it at that. Kitty knows like, way better than Ari does, what ‘all that’ means. And Ari doesn’t really wanna think about it.
“So whaddaya wanna do?” Kitty is obv not happy, and she obv doesn’t wanna talk about it, so... what’s a nerd to do to help? “I have Netflix on my phone.” Wow. Impressive. Not like she’s been mooching Kitty’s HBO to watch GoT with her all this time. Smoooth. “Or uh... you can have my Doritos? Cool ranch.” That’s Ari’s love language right there. What else? She doesn’t have like, a ton of stuff to offer. Like she wants Kitty to not be sad or in whatever funk she’s in, but she’s like, the last person who should be in charge of cheering people up. Normal people, she means. If this was Evie or Sammy, she’d be pulling out Mario Kart or starting an impromptu D&D campaign. But Kitty is... Kitty.
“I just wanna cheer you up, K-Dawg.” She shrugs and smiles and sort of rolls her chair back and forth for a second, cause she doesn’t know if Kitty wants her to get lost or stay and she’s kinda giving her a choice, she figures. “So just tell me what you want. We’ll make it happen. I’m like, a director. I make heckin’ good magic happen.”
Kitty
It’s probably bad -- like, she definitely knows it is. Somewhere Sweet Baby Jesus is frowning and shaking his little baby head. But like this, right here, Ari sort of jumping over herself to make Kitty feel better is... actually making her feel better. And like she said, it’s wrong, she knows.
But fuck.
Regardless of whether or not it’s true, she’s always played second fiddle in the eyes of like every girl she’s ever liked. And then here’s Ari. Making a show of putting her first and it feels really good.
And while she doesn’t show it outwardly -- her expression still neutral and hard to read -- she does bend her knee just so, knocking it against Ari’s. (Is that weird? Can she feel that? Is that like super insensitive?)
“I mean... I wouldn’t pass up a ride to like the balcony. Pop culture has taught me that fresh air heals, like, all things,” and it’s also a really great way to change the topic, so it kind of works on both those levels.
Ari
Ari doesn’t really feel Kitty’s knee against her own, but she sees it, and she appreciates the gesture. She’s sure she’d like it if she’d felt it. Like, she’s sure she’d like to feel anything of Kitty’s against her to be honest, not that she should be thinking about that, because she’s not a creeper and this is like, totally the alcohol talking. She should drink more. Like, she should prob have drunk less, but that can’t be fixed now, so she may as well just drink herself into a stupor at this point to stop her brain from thinking about feeling Kitty against-
“Oh.” A ride, really? Ari doesn’t know if Kitty’s like, just saying that to make her feel less useless, like ‘yes, Ariana (why is she always Ariana in her head? prob The Mothership’s fault somehow), I totes need you to take me outside’. But you know what they say about horses, gifts, and mouths. If Kitty wants to like, sit on her lap and go out into the balcony? Aint’ nobody gonna complain.
“Hop on, Your Grace.” Ari pats her lap and then puts both hands on her wheels just to keep them from accidentally touching Kitty cause she’s not about the creeper lifestyle. “Just for the record, I hope Drogon never, like, lets Cersei ride him. We’ll just make an exception for right now.”
Kitty
Ari agrees, albeit a bit awkwardly, but Kitty doesn’t take it personally. Frankly, Ari runs a bit on the awkward side. And because she’s like the hottest person Ari will have on her lap all night (Kitty knows how to toot her own horn) so like she can’t even blame her if the nerves are a bit extra tonight, can she?
(and like... okay, so maybe she has a few anxieties of her own, too.)
Rolling her eyes, Kitty slides onto Ari’s lap, her heart doing a funny thing as she settles in. And despite the fact that Ari’s body is like... super tense, it still kind of feels.... nice? Not like, in a friend way. But in a ‘well this wouldn’t be the worst mode of transportation to take for the rest of my life’ sort of way, and kitty feels...
She feels a lot.
“It’ll be our secret,” she agrees, then taps Ari’s shoulder, “Get it, Drogon.”