Archive of Our Own

On the one hand, Peppermint really is glad that her existence is public knowledge, these days.

She knows now, after months of heart-to-heart talks over their weekly cup of tea together, that Roxanne had some pretty good reasons for drawing such a hard line between her work and her family life, when Peppermint was growing up. Given the way Kale turned out, she can't even really blame her mother for being determined not to raise another privileged Vandelay heir, not if she could help it.

But the older Peppermint got, the more awkward it felt to live under a constant protective shield of security and privacy measures. Even when she broke away from her past and tried to build a new life for herself, sometimes it felt like she would never escape the long shadow of her mother's legacy.

Strangely enough, it's been a relief to stop hiding and accept that she's a Vandelay, and always will be. With the weight of all that secrecy off her back, she's been finally figuring out how to be herself, openly, on her own terms. It feels a lot like freedom.

But, on the other hand, the rest of the world is also pretty curious about who Peppermint Vandelay might be; and it turns out that there are some significant drawbacks to having an official public persona for the first time in her life. For one thing, Peppermint has discovered that she really, really hates being interviewed.

Which is unfortunate, since she's had to do it at least once every few weeks, ever since the news media found out that Roxanne Vandelay has a daughter.

It's been more than an hour since she wrapped up her latest one-on-one session with this week's reporter, with a firm handshake and the politest goodbye she could manage as she stepped into the private car waiting to whisk her home, but Peppermint's whole body still feels like one giant knot of stress. She stared blankly out the window for most of the drive and the ferry crossing, but when she finally set foot on Vandelay Island again, it was like instinct kicked in. She couldn't help making a beeline for the hideout.

(She is not behaving like a wounded animal, crawling back to its den to hide and lick its wounds. That would be ridiculous, and irrational, and embarrassing. She just...needs to get away from the public eye for a little while, that's all.)

As she plods down the tunnel to the hideout door, she can hear faint notes of music drifting through the air. Something inside her unknots, just a little.

Chai looks up from his guitar practice as she lets herself inside, and winces. "Oof," he says, flatly. "You look awful."

"Thanks, Chai, you say the nicest things," Peppermint groans. She slumps down on the couch next to him, buries her face in her hands, and lets out a long, shaky breath.

808 trots across the couch cushions and climbs into her lap immediately, snuggling close to her. Peppermint sinks her fingers gratefully into the cat's warm synthetic fur, and the knot in her guts unties itself a little more.

Chai sets his guitar aside and gives her a sympathetic frown. "Rough interview, huh?" he observes.

Come to think of it, he does have some experience with total strangers grilling him about his own deeply personal shit, after all these months as the Project Armstrong ambassador, doesn't he? Peppermint sighs. She's not really sure how to explain why this one hit her so hard.

"Kind of?" She gestures vaguely, then makes a face. Why is it such an effort to get the words out? It's not like the whole transcript won't be in the news, by this time tomorrow. "She...asked about Kale," she mutters.

Chai hisses air through his teeth. "Ouch. What did you tell her?"

"I gave her the usual line," Peppermint says, with a weary shrug of her shoulders. "Ego issues. Unstable personality. Mom had to come out of retirement to run the company again after he, y'know." She gestures a tiny explosion next to her ear.

Chai nods. They've all had a version of this talk with at least one or two media outlets, at some point or other, since the events of last March. The official story is airtight, and technically true in all its essential details. It doesn't make it any less uncomfortable to talk about, though.

"Was she weird about it?" he asks.

Peppermint shuts her eyes tightly for a second, then opens them again. 808 has started busily kneading biscuits against her thigh. Her stress level must be screamingly obvious, if that subroutine has activated.

"No," she says, staring into the middle distance. "She was really nice about it, actually." She presses her lips together, remembering the encouraging smile that the journalist had given her and the way she'd reached across the table to pat her hand. "She said...I must miss him a lot."

Chai makes a wordless noise of disbelief. She can imagine the exact look on his face, even without looking at him. Maybe that's why tears start to well up in her eyes.

"I don't," she insists, hating the way her voice wobbles. "Not really. The things he did were horrible. He was horrible. But..."

It's complicated, and messy, and difficult to put into words. Nobody was ever as cruel to her as Kale was. Nobody else knew exactly how to push her buttons, how to hurt her and make her feel small. But somehow, it's still so hard to wrap her head around a world without her older brother in it. He's always had a grip on her heart, like the pull of a black hole, even when his choices had warped him beyond recognition, into a destructive force that she had a duty to fight...

Chai nods, his brown eyes steady as he watches her shifting expressions.

"He was family," he says, simply.

Peppermint's throat closes. She gulps, and nods. The tears are on the verge of spilling over, so she looks quickly away from Chai's concerned gaze, blinking rapidly and trying to ignore the burn of embarrassment in her chest. Whatever, she thinks, fiercely. It's not like this is the first time he's seen her cry.

Chai clears his throat, tentatively. She glances back at him, and sees that he's scooted toward her--not too close, he's clearly giving her space if she wants it--and opened his arms to her. "Hey, uh," he says, a bit sheepish. "Would a hug help...?"

There's no judgment or sarcasm in his tone, just friendly sincerity. 808 is looking up at her expectantly, too; ever since that first good talk of theirs in the museum, the cat seems to have decided that Chai is a valid extension of her emotional-support protocols. As odd as it is to think about, she's not...entirely...wrong.

And Peppermint would be lying to herself, as well as the two of them, if she pretended she doesn't really need a hug, right about now.

"Maybe," she admits, gruffly. "I...guess it can't hurt, anyway."

Before she can talk herself out of it, she slumps sideways, without quite looking at him, surrendering to gravity and letting him catch her as her weight settles against his. He's warm and solid; a little too bony for perfect comfort, even without the hard metal of his implants, but just the right height to bury her face in the crook of his shoulder.

She can feel the tears on her lashes soaking into the fabric of his jacket, and grimaces; but Chai doesn't complain, or seem grossed out. He doesn't say anything, in fact, which is probably just as well. But his arms tighten around her, just slightly, anchoring her as the storm of feeling washes over her and recedes.

Gradually, the urge to sob fades back to something she can manage again.

Peppermint sniffs, once, hard. The last thing she wants is to get snot on his clothes, too. He smells surprisingly okay, actually, like clean laundry and cheap drugstore deodorant, one of those metallic fragrances that guys like for some reason.

"Sometimes I can't help wondering," she mumbles, a quiet confession into the front of his shirt. "If things...could have been different. You know? If there was something else I could have done--"

"Nah. You did everything you could," Chai replies, without a moment's hesitation, and then adds grimly, "Kale was a jackass, that's all."

Caught off guard, Peppermint snorts a damp little laugh. "No, I mean it," Chai insists. "I can't believe I used to think that guy was cool. Seriously, the only thing he had going for him was his hair. The world's better off without him," he says, with perfect frankness. "You're worth a hundred of him, Peppermint."

The last remnant of the knot inside Peppermint dissolves, in a startling glow of warmth. Is this what it's like to have a best friend? Someone who's on your side, no matter what? She's not sure. She's never really had anyone like that before.

But...there's no complicated history between her brother and Chai, no years of struggling to water the barren ground where affection was supposed to grow. He's free to hold a grudge against Kale for her, fiercely and defiantly, even when she can't bring herself to hate her brother the way he deserved.

"Thanks, Chai," Peppermint mumbles, hoping that's enough to express her gratitude, and tucks her legs up under her on the couch cushions to curl a little more comfortably against him. She can't remember the last time she let someone hold her like this, aside from her mom; but the warmth of the human contact is soothing, almost restful, like sinking into a hot bath after a long, tiring day.

The tight ache in her throat has melted away, and she closes her eyes again and just breathes, slow and deep. 808 is purring steadily, with a buzz like a tiny motor, snuggled into the space between their bodies with the tip of her tail switching like a sleepy metronome.

This is normal, right? Peppermint thinks, a bit drowsily. This is what friends do. She can feel the steady beat of Chai's power core, a comfortable 80 BPM or so, thrumming gently. It's...nice. This is really nice.

Chai shifts a little, turning his head so that his cheek rests on her hair. She can feel the motion of his Adam's apple as he swallows.

"Hey..." he murmurs, his voice close against her ear--and something ripples across her skin, bright and fizzy, zinging lightly through the pit of her stomach.

Peppermint tenses up, startled.  What...?

Before she can finish the thought, Chai gives her shoulders a friendly squeeze and lets her go, getting to his feet.

"You wanna play video games and not think about it anymore?" he suggests, looking down at her with a wry, lopsided smile.

She gives him the tentative ghost of a grin in return. "Hmm, I dunno," she muses out loud. "I wouldn't want to hurt your feelings when I totally kick your ass."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Chai says cheerfully. He's already walking across the hideout, to the back shelf where they keep the wireless controllers and game cartridges. "I have never been beaten at Mega Bash Brothers in a fair fight."

Peppermint scrubs at her cheeks with the heels of her hands. (Never mind whatever that was, just now; she can figure it out later, or better yet, never think about it again.) 808 has scrambled onto the back of the couch to watch them both, ears perked up eagerly, and Peppermint can't help but chuckle at the anticipation shining in their cat's wide golden eyes.

"Kiss your winning streak goodbye, then," she says, smirking, and reaches up to take the controller that Chai offers her. "You're going down, rockstar."

If this is what it's like to have a best friend...she supposes she could get used to it.