Archive of Our Own ^beta

She still barely sleeps, Cindy always thinks, pretending to sleep herself so her lover doesn’t worry about keeping her awake, busy anxious hands turn a wrench to her motorcycle, tuning it to run smoother than either of their hearts do out on the streets anymore.

Once Original Cindy could walk head high, hips rolling to the beat in her bones, un-noticed or… well, Original Cindy was always noticed, but perhaps un-remarked upon by anyone but a fuck boy or two trying helplessly to hit that without knowing better, without realizing Cindy had her eye on another lady, the only lady to keep her attention for so, so long. Longer than Max might ever realize or than Original Cindy would ever want to admit.

It had been easier before, simpler too, to pretend mere friendship for her boo, “best” friendship though it might have been. Hard enough for Max to come to terms with her transgenic identity being out in the open, identifying and accepting her bisexuality had added the first curve ball Original Cindy had ever seen manage to throw Max off her game. Cindy’d known so long that her heart, soul, and body where meant for women alone that it was almost as if she forgot some folks took a while to figure out they were feigning for more than just a little stick of sausage on the side. That they didn’t notice “girlfriend” could mean “girlfriend” all accidentally, as if casual closeness could bleed into committed relationship without anyone being the wiser.

Original Cindy just knows she doesn’t remember not wanting Max on some level or another, wanting to keep her close on the nights they drank and laughed and danced for the hell of it, to protect her when she hadn’t known just how handily Max could protect herself, then wanting to watch her boo kick some epic ass when she finally did know. Cindy just wanted, always wanted. It was easy enough to ignore in the face of Max’s preference for men. Learning that preference had broadened substantially had been something like a slap in the face and something like a revelation.

Max hadn’t looked to anyone else; that was something Original Cindy never failed to thank her maker for. If Max had come over the Sapphic side but never guessed at Cindy’s so carefully hidden wants, or worse if she hadn’t ever grown to want in return…

Original Cindy wouldn’t think she could untie her heartstrings from Max’s apron strings, but had Max found herself a girl, she’d known she’d have to try.

But she didn’t. Thank fuck, she didn’t, and they’d fallen into bed as easily as falling in stride with one another walking in the door to Crash or out the door of Jam Pony that last time.

There was still some adjustment, sure. Max’s nocturnal activities being just one of them. But she was worth it, Cindy knew. A million dollar government project who was truly beyond priceless to those who actually knew her. A gift one Original Cindy wasn’t ever giving back no matter who might demand it of her.

In the meantime, Max would come back to bed when she could stand to try to sleep again, curling her strong arms around Cindy, sharing the warmth her smile always gave off like the sun.