Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Anne just… feels something. She doesn't quite understand what it is or how it's happening, but it's there.

First, it was a strange stinging in her chest in the middle of the night. She wakes up (she never wakes up at night. Not a light-sleeper) and just feels something. Her hand grips the fabric of her shirt; heart beating too fast under her knuckles. It’s hot, painfully hot under the blankets, and the touch of both Sasha’s and Marcy’s hands feels like burning. Anne cannot help but strain from their grasp. Good thing she’s not the one sleeping in the middle tonight. 

Still, she moves too quickly; in a hurry – makes Marcy grunt when her fingers no longer can reach Anne’s shoulder. 

“Sm’ng wrong?” her sleepy voice is low. It comes from the other side of the bed, Anne knows that, obviously she knows – but it echoes in her head unnaturally. From everywhere at once. 

Marcy shifts to see Anne, leans on her elbows; sudden movement causes a loud creak from the bed that  echoes in their room. In Anne’s head, too. Sasha, who was nestled between them, mutters something muffled by the pillow. Remains asleep – no surprise, given how exhausted she was. A long week of work made her snore like some giant bear.

“Huh. No. Just-… The blood pressure, I think,” Anne huffs. She pushed herself up and sat up on the corner of their bed. “Was a guide for schoolkids today, got a bite of their candies.”

“You’re an old hag.”

“Hey, don’t say that!”

“Why not?” Marcy laughs and stands up. Through the curtains a soft moon light bursts, barely highlighting Marcy’s figure in front of Anne. She cannot really see Marcy’s face; as opposite, (the world is cruel as hell), out of pure spite the light makes her chest scar more visible than ever. “You’re definitely getting too old for that, you know?”

“For candies? Never!” Anne pretends to be shocked, makes silly noises, sticks her tongue out – and suddenly feels Sasha's shifting and grunting behind her back. 

Oh. Right. She needs to be quiet. Both turn their heads to Sasha, just with a bit of a fear of waking her up. Only a bit. 

Marcy presses her finger to her lips and gestures for Anne to be quiet. Anne says nothing – but tugs the blanket over Sasha and brushes her cold fingers against her cheek. That makes Sasha shift again, just slightly frowned; both for a moment gazes upon her steady breathing.

“I think her skull is too thick to let our noises wake her up.” Marcy laughs softly. 

“Marce!”

“What? I’m telling scientific facts here,” she slowly walks all the way around their bed. Every step eels like a smack on Anne’s head. She slowly hovers over, finally her face can be seen – tired, curious, concerned, gentle. “And you know that I wasn’t talking about the candies. You’re too old for all the dirty tasks. You’re working on your PhD, for goodness’ sake! And they’re making you do the jobs that interns should be doing.”

“Work is work, Marce. And I love the museum! Makes me feel… connected.”

Marcy wasn’t much better than Anne in that sense. She’d spent the night hunched over her tablet, making her way into their bed only when Sasha comes by and grabs her by the hand. Sometimes Anne can hear them argue from another room, their muffled voices, rising and falling – more like a casualty than a real fight. It was a familiar refrain, one that Anne had grown accustomed to. She was too tired and sleepy to really get up and tell them to shut up. 

“Just-… You can't always grasp to that feeling, Anne. ” she gently taps Anne’s shoulder. They look at each other for a while, just peering at the too familiar features – then Anne bumps her forehead against Marcy’s chest. 

It’s all too dizzy. World is spinning around, everything twitches. She closes her eyes. Breathes. She can feel the hands caressing her head, fingers soft and tender. 

“Marce. I’m just… Miss them so much.”

Marcy whispers softly “I know,” fingers tenderly lifting her face; then she presses a soft kiss on Anne’s forehead. “We know. If you feel weird tomorrow, you should tell us.”

Anne only nods. The warmth of Marcy's lips on her skin grounds her for the moment, and with a soft sigh, she allows herself to lean into that little embrace.

Still her chest is tight. 

Anne had never understood the way of consuming food with sad undertones. 

It was a cucumber – just a cucumber as her lunch, a single one, she stole it from the museum’s dining. Only for the sake of not getting a belly ache from hunger later – Anne already felt something stirring in her stomach and a lump in her throat, too.  Something tells her that it wasn’t the sign of hunger. Maybe she got sick. Maybe she really needs to rethink her schedule. 

So yeah. She ate cucumber sadly. Leaning against the discarded dinosaur exhibit, slacking off just for a moment. She’ll get to work back in a few minutes, of course (although something in the universe just whispers in unison – “no-o-o, Anne, you can call it a day and go home! Sweet bed is calling you!”. Stupid universe, Anne thinks. She wouldn’t be asleep even if she gets home. She has a PhD to get).

Her head is spinning round a bit. Not as bad as the night before or the other day, but still. With no second thought she texted something about it to her girls. Just to keep them updated. Feels right to do so. 

Me: Feeling dizzy😭 

Marmar: probably sasha’s cookin 

Sasha: Hey!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Sasha: First of all 

Sasha: I haven’t even cooked anything for the past couple of days

Sasha: And secondly 

Me: Do I need to call off?

Marmar: specify exactly dizzy HOW babe

Sasha: Of course call off!

Marmar: is it serious 

Marmar: imean Anne you’re kinda into calling off now and then so please remember that ur boss can kill you somday ok

Sasha: Wait really

Marmar: she’s lazy as hell while being workaholic idk how that workss 

Me: MARCE I'M NOT LAZY AND I don’t skip my work ever!!!😡

Me: At least not THAT much hey!!!! 

Sasha: Too bad. I would totally skip my work

Sasha: Sucks to be self-employed 

Marmar: mayb mummified exhibition frogs are really in need of mentsl  help u tots should try to apply

Sasha: Yeah! Let’s do ittt girlllll

Sasha: But aghm jokes aside. Your state is that bad Anne??? 

Me: No??

Me: I don’t think so??🥺

Me: Just a strange feeling

Me: Like. I dunno! Electricity in my body or something. Chest is tight also like something heavy is hanging on it well

Me: I had that feeling once in a few days. But now it just won’t go away💀💀

Sasha: And you’re only telling us now? Through text???

Sasha: Anne when I’ll get you.

Marmar: anne😭😭😭😭

Sasha: Go on, say something. 

Sasha: Anne

Sasha: Anne??

Marmar: shit 

Marmar: anne if ur not answerin this im gonna assume u fainted abd halfdead 

Sasha: Let’s not make assumptions 

Marmar: too late im callin her boss

Marmar: can’t have her dead once again

Something just made Anne go. With no doubt she puts her phone down and steps out of the museum almost mechanically. Security guards called her name, maybe. Asked her where she’s going. Maybe. It doesn’t matter somehow. 

Strange, unsettling touch of urgency that moves her. A feeling that something is waiting. Urge. Heart is rising, every step slams her skull as a painful echo. So she keeps going.

The air is filled with electricity (it can’t be. It can’t. She’s in freakin’ California, for frog’s sake! Air can’t be filled with anything but pollution!). She feels how her body hair is rising from static and light stinging goes through the tips of her fingers. Phone in her pocket keeps on ringing, and she quickly turns it off; just not to disturb her from the sense of something moving – she can almost feel it in a pair of quarters forward. 

With each step the feeling grows stronger, until she's practically running through the streets. Her heart pounds, breath – ragged gasps. Anne barely notices the people she brushes past, not minding any of the startled glances and muttered apologies. 

Bumps into them again and again; her shoulders knocking against their bodies and legs stomping against their feet. She tries to say sorry, really. But it doesn’t matter.

Also, Anne almost gets hit by cars more than once. Good thing that she’s doomed to live till her nineties.

Suddenly she stops in her tracks, eyes wide and searching. There, in the alley; under the rusted shell of an old, abandoned car, something pulls her. She steps closer, her hands trembling as she reaches out to touch the cold, worn metal. Looks under it.

A frog. Not the normal one. 

“Hey, buddy,” Anne falls to the ground. “Are you… Are you lost?”

It was a little frog. Scared, tears welled in eyes, with street dirt on their skin. Barely out of the tadpole stage. A real talking frog. Anne holds her breath in awe. 

“Go away.” they say with a voice cracking with strain.

“Where did you come from? Are you…”

“Go away!” they screamed. Their eyes darted around, searching for a way to escape, but the thing is – kid got themself practically caught in a dead end. 

“I’m. I’m good! Please don’t be scared!” Anne twitches and blurts words out a bit too awkwardly. “I… I won’t hurt you! I’m a good guy.”

“You look like a monster.”

Anne sits up. Hand runs through her hair, trying to gather all of her thoughts in one place. The situation is pure absurd, nonetheless – yet out of her mouth comes a little chuckle. She leans back against the door of the old car, feels the metal against her spine. 

And she laughs. 

“Well, I guess I am. A strange looking monster, huh?”

“And ugly.”

“Ouch,” she rolls her eyes. “Not a nice thing to say, kid.”

“I’m nice,” a little movement. The kid steps a little closer, hesitantly, not yet out of the car. Still surely closer to Anne. “I’m a hero.”

“You are?”

“Of course. I’m in another world. For a reason, obviously,” few steps closer. “Like three heroes. Maybe I’m here for a cool reason.”

Anne wants to text that to her girls immediately. The “three heroes”, huh. Nice. Sasha would be so smug about it! And Marcy… Well, Marcy would come up with important questions for the kid. Questions. Yes.

“Was it scary to end up in another world, huh? Everyone must’ve been so strange. Ugly monsters, yeah. Feel ya totally.”

“Why do you need that thing between your eyes?” the kid doesn’t want to come out yet. Anne, observing this, thinks of a wild cat, ready to pounce at any sudden movement. So she tries hard to avoid any sudden moves, fearing that it might startle the child – although she longs to scream, shout, and give frog a hug most of all. A real talking frog! It's been too long. 

“My nose? Oh! It’s a thing for breathing”

“Cool.”

They sit in silence for some time. Anne waits for the kid to come out eventually, but it seems like that trust was still a challenge to build.

“I’ve been in a situation like this. Lost,” she sees how a bit of hair peeks out of the car. “But I’ve found a friend who helped me. Took me home, bro! I was so happy to sleep under a roof and not in some cave across the forest.“

“I’d love to sleep in the forest. You’re stupid.”

“Bud, stop calling me names! I’m trying to befriend you.”

“You do?”

That’s it. Head peeks out, their eyes meeting Anne's.

“Of course. I want to be your friend. Just like my old friend helped me, I can help you too!” 

Yeah, Anne. Sounds totally not suspicious. She would be such a bad kidnapper, to be honest; it’s just never occurred to her that life would ever depend upon the skill to lure children to her house. 

“I won’t go to your home. Stranger danger.”

Anne huffs. At least this child has some sense in them. 

“And I can’t let you stay here!” her heart races. “Okay, bud, you’re right, but… I really, really want to help you. So what if I… Got food for you, first? Then you’ll get that I’m legit, and we can go home, and you’ll get some sleep. How does that sound?”

It would be such easy work for her girls. Not the Frog Scientist™ Anne with no understanding of how to deal with kids (besides the limits of telling funny facts and guiding them through the halls day by day at her work). Yet the kid comes out. Anne’s mouth opens as she sees how small the frog is – was Sprig that small back in their good old days? 

The kid clearly fits just in her palm. That was… strange. Not healthy, for sure. Anne squeezes the child's hand gently (shit, she holds it just with her two fingers!), offering a reassuring smile.

“Alright. But for you to know. I’m the next hero! And they have superpowers. So don’t be bad.”

“Of course,” she smiles. Maybe she needs to tell this kid about her life once. Not now, though. Too much of a work that would be. “So, let’s try to hide you in my hood for now, okay? The world is not ready to see the hero yet.”

Chapter Text

“Are we here yet?”

“No.”

“What about now?”

“No, kid! C’mon!” Anne groans. “We've just come out of the alley.”

Frog is shifting, spinning around her head – and the amused gazes from people on the streets are glued to her spine. Well, Anne didn't really care, anyway, for what the others think. Got through this phase a long time ago.

She brightly smiles at the people she passes, while something is moving in her hood. That's quite funny. Mysterious talking bump in her head! What a sight. 

“Do you have a name?” kid pulls a strand of her hair.

“I think I do,” she rolls her eyes and smiles a little. “Anne Boonchuy. But you can call me Mrs. Plantar for now” 

“Nah. You’re too funny to be called like that. You’re Anne now.”

Oh, how grateful she is now for someone like Hop-Pop, one who had the patience of a saint to put up with her antics all these years ago. Something tells her that thirteen-years-old-Anne was even more terrible then. Some tornado of hormones, awkwardness, and questionable choices. 

The mere thought of it makes her groan and pull the kid closer. Enough adventures for today.

“What is your name?”

Kid doesn’t answer. 

“Well, you ought to  have a name.”

Still – silence. 

“Playing hard, huh. Okay.”

Kid tries to run away from Anne or bite her as they make their way. By the time they finally reached the museum, Anne felt like she was on the verge of nervous breakdown.

At least now she could enjoy the museum in peace… or, at least, as much peace as one could with a hyperactive child in her hood (she never wanted to admit that it was kind of fun to have a break from the mundane work).

She is used to the main entrance – just a nod to security and she's in. But when they approach, Anne's steps falter. The main entrance is out of the question, not with the particular curious bump in her hood. She was already a little strange to others, but this? She couldn't possibly pass it off as some quirky “thai heritage” thing.  

Today was the day to avoid her colleagues at all costs. So, she steered towards the back of the building. The backdoor creaks open with an unwantedly loud groan. Anne slips inside and tucks her hood further (Quibby doesn't like it at all). 

“Anne Boonchuy, is that you?” she can see her dearest coworker Dr. Jan stare at her from the other side of the hallway. 

Anne runs. 

It was easy to get to the break room. Anne closes the door behind her with a quiet click and releases the whining kid from within her hood quickly – they dart away as soon as their legs touch the floor, zipping from corner to corner with an energy that seemed almost explosive.

“Sweet freedom!” glances away and bites her lip to hide the smile that threatened to break free.

Her phone rings. Anne spits out a curse that wasn’t really fit for a kid’s ears.

“Mom?” she picks up the phone with a loud gulp. “No, no… Marce and Sasha told you that?! No, mom, please…” there was a pause, and then her mother’s scream came through the speaker. Anne pulls the phone away from her ear, saving herself from the pain.  Still, the scream cuts through the air.

“Yeah, yes, I know! Nothing serious, just… No, mom! I’m alright, okay! I know. I know, won’t happen again. I’ll tell you everything, just gimme some… I know! Just…” her eyes darting at the kid as they fell to the ground, its tiny body collapsing in a worn-out state and sparkles in their eyes. Then, all of the sudden, they start to munch on the carpet. 

Anne quickly gets to her knees and pulls kid from the carpet, placing them on their two legs and gently brushing the dust from their clothes. 

“Yes, okay, maybe it’s some Amphibia-related stuff?.. Yeah, so, please… Could you please let me handle this?” she sees the sparkle in the kid's eyes as they glance at the showpieces behind her. “Okay, I’ll call you back, please don’t scream! Bye-e-e!”

With a frustrated growl, she slams the “end call” button with all of her force.  Just as she does this, the kid manages to slip out of her grasp. She's left staring at her phone, feeling more defeated than when she was laying dead, of all things. A trembling hand swipes the sweat from her own forehead. 

The last time she handled a difficult talk like that was… Anne couldn't quite remember. 

So, kid’s eyes lock onto the towering half-broken dinosaur skeleton, one disposed exhibit (Anne thinks that she was the one responsible? She can’t remember quite right). Before any more chaos happens, Anne approaches with a smirk on her face. She raises her eyebrow, a mischievous glow in her eyes, and asks, “Wanna ride it?”

“Can I?” they gasped.

With no words Anne grabs the kid by the waist, once again noticing how small their body is. She lifts them up and carefully places on the back of the dinosaur. “Here ya go! Don’t fall off, please.”

Kid wraps their arms tightly around the neck of the dinosaur, their fingers curling into the bones. Their eyes sparkle as they giggle and chatter about the “dead lizards”. That would make them still for a moment, Anne hopes. 

“Boonchuy!” bang on the door. Anne freezes when she hears the voice of her boss from the other side. “You disappeared during your working hours, and your freakin’ roommates are terrorising me with the phone calls! Get your ass here!” 

“Anne is not here!” she replies with her voice cracking. In a hurry she grabs the child and looks around to find the good hiding spot. 

“Hey!” kid tries to bite Anne’s hand. “Put me down! Put me down!”

“Who is that?! Boonchuy, I swear to god….”

“Shhh!” Anne tries to shush kid with her hand – very, very stupid idea. She almost screams when her hand gets bitten. “Dude! Not cool! Not cool! No biting!”

“Anne!”

“There is no one! I’m all alone! Nothing important!” there is nowhere to hide. She sighs. “Boss, I’ll be honest with you here,” she drops the kid and slowly walks to the door. “I’ve got some real bad food poisoning.”

“What?”

“I’ve got to run off. I’m so sorry. Didn’t want to puke all over the place…” she sniffs as loud as possible. “This is embarrassing.”

“Okay. But what are you doing here? Behind the closet door.” 

Anne’s soul left her body. 

“Well. You see, I…” she looks back. Hissing kid in the corner of the room, with the scariest expression ever seen – somewhat of a betrayal. “How to put this… I end up puking. In here. Went back, thought I’m good now, and then vomit just came back at me. And, well… You know. Wanted to clear everything before you noticed.”

“That’s all?”

“Yeah. Yes.”

“Your roommates are crazy. Deal with them and get yourself a day off. And clean up.”

“Thank you, boss.”

Anne sighs and slips on the floor, with her back rolling against the wall. She closes her eyes. 

“Sorry for this, kid. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I’m not scared.” they pout. 

“Oh. Then, we’re good?”

“No.”

Anne groans. 

“Okay. What’s wrong?”

“You called me no one. I’m not no one.”

It’s hard to understand at first – but then something in her mind clicks as she looks at the frowning child. 

“Oh. No, no, please! I didn’t mean that,” she tries to  place her hand on the kid’s head (too big, too wide in comparison), but the frog hisses and pushes her away. Anne pulls the hand back. “I… I just wanted to hide you, alright?”

“Why?”

“Well…” she rubs the back of her head. “I want you to be safe. And I don’t know if other people would provide you that safety.”

“Why not?”

Oh. Anne clearly forgot that children are biologically obligated to always ask “why”. It was such a long day and still not even an evening. 

“People are very different from each other. Some you can trust, some you can’t.”

Kid is silent for a moment. Thousands of thoughts running through their head – Anne sees it on their face – as they look around, then at her, then at their own feet. 

“Can I trust you?” their voice almost whisper. 

“I will do anything for you to trust me,” she puts her hand on her chest. “I, Anne Boonchuy Plantar, with additional Wu and additional Waybright, swear to you, that you’ll be safe under my watch until you’ll get home. Honest and true.”

Kid laughs and something in Anne’s chest warms up. 

“And I, Quibby,” they do the exact same gesture with their tiny hands. “I’ll be your friend!”

Anne thought that’s a nice start, for once. Maybe she is not too bad at that – but it obviously would have been easier if her life wasn’t some poorly written sitcom with a side of drama on top. 

She looks up at her phone once again. Her heart drops with the tons of messages from her girls. It’s awful hard not to think about it too much, with all of the last strength try to brush all of these worries away. She fought God. She is God, for frog’s sake. Survived a war, revolution, and a really devastating student loan. Anne obviously can handle a bit of a misunderstanding with her partners – and everything her angry boss is going to put her through, probably.

But an actual child? After her working hours?

“Quibby. Nice name.” Anne tries to smile as softly as possible. 

“Thanks.”

That was all that she got. 

Me: Do you know how much I love you?

Marmar: UR ALIVE

Marmar: WHAT HAPDEBD

Marmar: HAPPENED 

Marmar: SASHA SAYS THAT SHE HATES U VERY MICH

Marmar: we’re almost there and she’s really angru rn drivin crazy and stuff

Me: I’ve found something. Someone. 

Marmar: anne are u cheatin

Me: NO

Me: NOT IN THAT WAY YOU

Me: There is an emergency. Please hurry up. Buy some crickets on the way

Me: They are not for me!

Me: Sorry can’t talk this kid is trying to eat my keys💀

Chapter Text

Stupid Anne with her stupid silence and her stupid attitude. Sasha spits out all of the curses she knows – screaming at every single car that tries to cut her off as she drives to the museum. 

At least she made these little shits in their stupid ass cars afraid. 

She can feel that through the air, in the way they drive off, almost escaping. Their fear makes her stronger. She is the apex predator of these roads.

“Anne’s typing!” Marcy exclaims, hand tightly grips Sasha’s shoulder from behind sits – Sasha almost lost control over a car by the way she jumped on her seat. 

“Is she alright? Where is she?!” she shouts, quickly runs out of air – not good. Having a panic attack behind the wheel is not good. “What happened?” 

“Aww, she says she loves us!” Marcy murmurs. “Can you believe it, Sashy? She loves us!”

“Tell her that I hate her ass! What’s wrong with her?!”

“Alright!”

Few seconds passes. Feels like an eternity. 

“She found someone.”

“What?! Where is she?!” her hands raises; Marcy quickly shouts out her name – ouch. Sasha is driving and just managed to get her hands off the wheel. “Sorry!”

Maybe they should try not to get into a car accident on their way to their own human accident. But the second thought is – that would be, like, super funny. All three of them are stuck in the hospital and stuff; that would be such a nice vacation from their work. 

Sasha quickly cuts out these thoughts. 

Last time all three of them were in the same hospital was the time of their recovery. From Amphibia.

Also, they cannot quit their jobs – not when the hospital would probably make them pay all these medical bills for the rest of their lives. 

Sasha sighs. 

“Dear, you’re too silent.”

Marcy doesn’t answer for a while. She is uncertain, eyes darting; Sasha sees her face through the rearview mirror and feels something in her stomach swirl.

“She’s not typing anymore.” she slowly taps Sasha’s shoulder from behind her seat and unusually quietly (there is a fear in her voice, oh God) asks her: “Do you think she’s alright?”

Sasha sighs. Wants to turn around and ensure Marcy, pat her on the head or something. But she’s driving, for frog’s sake. 

“It’s Anne. You know how she is,” her eyes roll. “And she is clearly exhausted and overworked. It makes sense that she’d fainted or something,” a deep sigh comes out of her mouth once again. “I’m not really afraid, Mar-mar. And you shouldn’t be.”

“I’m not!” voice trembles and cracks. Sasha raises her brow. “Well, just a bit. But. You know.”

“Don’t try to play cool. I’m worried too. It’s just…” she curses at the driver who just cutted her off. “I- Argh! I’m more angry than I’m worried! She is clearly the one responsible for not taking care of herself. She needs to learn how to manage this.” 

“Aren’t we supposed to do that? Like, “in sickness and in health”, all this stuff?”

“She’s a grown up woman.”

Marcy huffs. 

“We should totally make her sleep on the couch for a month.” 

“Just a week. Feels lonely without her.” Sasha shivers by the memories of her own nights on the couch. 

“Oh! She also asked for the bag of crickets!”

Sasha puts the pedal to the metal. 

“Month! She’s sleeping on the couch for a whole month!”

Anne missed the Plantars. Hop Pop would’ve known what to do with the child from another dimension. 

Then again, he’d also thought “child labor” and “chores” were synonyms, so maybe not. Her memories started to fade away a little. 

“Quibby-y-y, I beg you…” she tries to catch up her breath. “Just a moment… Please…”

Sweat drops from her cheek.

Come to think of it – her mother wasn’t too different from Hop-Pop. Maybe even more strict. 

Today’s phone call from her still echoes in Anne’s ears.

“Quib, I know you’re hungry,” she already was cursed by the Academic Gods, who were probably fed up with her bullshit. Shitty supervisor, shitty research results, shitty blank-white paper in front of her every other day. But in the end, hey – there is no limit for haters. 

So now the universe itself is against her. She got the memo the moment her hand reached the mouth of a frog child, trying to save her keys from swallowing. “Please, just…”

She holds the frog above her head, like in some shitty-made parody of lion king, and tries to cross the room without stepping onto the bone mess that Quibby made out of plastic (once) exhibit. 

Right in that state the door opens wide, even though it was closed. Anne checked it thrice before. 

And Marcy and Sasha see her like that. 

“Hi?” Anne puts up a smile.

 Marcy finds it kind of cute – only kind of – how embarrassed and a little bit too proud Anne looks while holding anthropomorphic frog in her hands. 

Real talking frog!

Marcy holds herself from racing towards her wife; to be more specific, it is her other wife who holds her tight and hisses to stay still. 

“Anne?” Sasha’s gaze darts from kid to Anne, from Anne to Marcy. Her teeth are showing with the mouth open in distress. “Is that?..”

“The most adorable thing in the world!” Marcy wheezes. “Oh My Frog! Where did you find it? Hello buddy!” finally Sasha’s grip softens, letting Marcy to rush forward, doing a little circle around Anne, getting to look at the frog-kid from every possible side. “I’m Marcy! What is your name? Where’d you come from? Are you here all alone? How long have you been here? Are you really from Amphibia? Is the portal finally open?– Are you hungry? Oh, yes, definitely. Crickets! We’ve brought some, don’t worry! Gosh, how old are you? Where are your parents?”

Kid only tugs into Anne’s hold further away, hiding into her hoodie as Marcy keeps on asking and asking – before Sasha’s arm gently pats her shoulder. Right. She needs to breathe. 

“Oh. Yes. Sorry,” her face flushes red, but the reassuring smile on Anne’s face and gentle caressing of Sasha’s hand on her spine… Well, they are a bit used to it, after all. . “Got a little carried away, ooh-uh! It’s just… Strange to see a frog.”

“Yeah. Yeah…” Sasha keeps repeating with her eyes wide open.

Kid looks scared. They move around in Anne’s hug, nervously gripping the fabric of her hood, which makes Marcy take a few steps back.

Not a good first impression. Check it, write it down, work on it later. Marcy bites her lip. 

“It’s okay, buddy,” Anne brushes the kid's hair with just a few fingers. Oh God, this child is obviously too small even for frog standards. Not a normal body type for their age, and the hair is in awful condition (worse than Anne’s back in their teenage years! Much worse!) and, okay, maybe Marcy needs some sort of journal. 

She looks around for a sign of paper or anything like that before the most obvious idea pops in her head. She has her phone, of course! 

Marcy starts to list in her mind all of every little thing she noticed – before her attention goes to kid’s face – and she sees the real fear in their eyes. 

She scared them. 

Way to go, Marce. Good work.

“Honey,” Sasha’s voice is a melody. Low, sweet, slow to the point. She carefully approaches the kid, leans a bit lower to get to the same eye level with the frog. “We’re Anne’s friends. I see that you’re her friend too, isn’t it?”

Marcy shares a glance with Anne. 

“I am.” finally, the kid answers.

“Good. Then, can we be friends?” soft smile on Sasha’s lips evokes something inside of Marcy.

Frog looks back at Anne, waiting for her approval – then nods and reaches out their hand. 

Sasha grabs it carefully, tries not to break. A small struggle on her face, almost invisible, but Marcy knows it too well. In a little wrinkle between her brows, in a trembling corner of her lips. 

With nothing else to do, Marcy (in a clear defeat) slowly walks towards the nearest couch, falls onto it – staring at how carefully Anne passes the child to Sasha’s hold. Marcy’s fingers keeps on tapping on the phone. She needs to write everything down. 

“How old are you, baby? I betcha you’re a full grown up, huh?”

“Yes I am!” frog raises their hands. “But, uh… I don’t know.”

“Oh? Well, maybe you can show it with your fingers?”

Kid in her hold tries to do so. Really tries. But the fingers moves are unpredictable, they are rising and falling, kid tries to make something up, but fails. “No… It was… Or… No…”

Doesn’t really know their age.
Write it down. 

Legs are humble, developed fully – but with some troubles along the way. Too bruised even for a kid. Too short (maybe stayed in a bucket more than it needed?). Write it down. 

If Marcy was to guess, the kid was around six or eight years old. It’s really hard to specify. Maybe she should run test or two. Of course, when the kid is ready. 

“Whatcha writing?” at the same time Anne sits down right next to Marcy. Long, tired breathing, frowned face – she puts her head onto Marcy’s shoulder and closes her eyes.

“Field notes,” she passes her phone to Anne. While The-Frog-Scientist is slowly gets through her notes, she reaches to tuck away the loosened hair from her wife’s face. “Long day, huh?”

“I re-e-eally need some sleep, Marmar,” she chuckles nervously. “Hey, you’ve got almost everything right! But I think we need to narrow down that huge age range. The spread is too wide, babe. Metamorphosis is not fully formed yet, so there is no way they are more than seven.”

“But what if the containing conditions were too harsh? It could hamper the development.”

“The jaws, Marsh. The development of jaws.”

“Oh. O-o-oh.”

“Oh Frog, I really need some sleep.” Anne gives her phone back. Leans back against the sofa, with her head still on Marcy’s shoulder.

“You’ll get some.”

“And a lunch.”

“Uh-uh.”

“And a kiss.”

Marcy rolls her eyes and grins softly. 

“Actually, you’re sleeping on the couch tonight. Thought we’d forget how you’ve made us go nuts?” 

“What?! Come on, dude! I was busy!”

“We-e-ell, I’ll think about it.” 

They look up at their wife murmuring something to the frog child, holding them in her hands firmly – smiling, laughing, looking at them with such awe. 

“At least she’s definitely got it.” Anne straightenes up, stretching – and playfully pushes Marcy with her shoulder, never shifting the glance from Sasha and the kid. 

And Marcy freezes. 

She knew, of course she knew that Sasha works with kids. It’s makes sense that her girl would know how to approach them. Yet there was something about the way she holds little one’s hand, smiles brightly, and…

She interrupts Marcy’s thoughts: “Ugh, guys? Quibby is kinda hungry and tired. I think we should go.” 

Well, Sasha definitely got it. 

Chapter Text

Quibby lies asleep on Anne’s lap. Snoring, drooling (nothing too gross – frogs are always too slimey, so Anne doesn’t mind. Even if her wives are giving her a bunch of side eyes). Totally adorable to a teeth-rotting state. 

“You know, I kinda missed that.” she states with a shrug. 

Quibby would’ve been so enthusiastic about the car if not the exhaustion that made the kid too tired to even hold their eyes open. For the good, obviously. 

Anne is tired from all the antics. 

“Are we gonna talk about this?” Sasha asks, buckling up in her driver’s seat. 

“Eventually,” somehow too instinctively Anne’s hand lays upon Quibby’s head. “Hey, look, they have freckles!”

“Nice,” Marcy leans a bit to see it. Then, after a while, she gasps. “Oh gosh, Anne is so-o-o Mom-Coded!”

Anne cringes at that and a shiver runs over her. She still wasn’t quite over the MILF jokes about her own mother, and now that? Really makes her question every single life decision she made to end up here. 

Was that something fetish-y? She doesn’t want to know. Her sleep got better for good after cutting off some of her online time. 

“I’m just being a good person!” she feels accused. “Don’t make it weird.”

“Just saying.”

They can hear a loud noise coming from the driver's seat. Light chuckles almost inaudible in between the engines, but Sasha is definitely laughing. 

“I guess we are not stating the fact that a portal was created for this kid to end up here?” Sasha says after a while, huffing lightly. 

“Well,” slowly Anne pats Quibby’s head. “Back in medieval times people tended to believe that frogs spawn from the moss and damp.”

Both of her wives look at her with an unreadable expression, Sasha manages to turn around just to look. That silence made Anne so uncomfortable that she shifted on her seat and frowned, making Quibby growl at the move. 

Spare hand raises to her chest in an offended manner. The other one still holds the kid carefully.

“What? I’m working on my PhD!”

Marcy takes her hand, pulling it close to her own lips and whispers: 

“I’m so proud of you, baby.”

She still holds the kid in her arms all the way to their little scrawny apartment. Still a home, by no means, even if they have to stumble upon each other every other minute and barely have a place to put all of their belongings. Anne is sure that her parents’ basement still has some furniture dusted and forgotten, things that were impulsively bought when the girls just moved in. It never got to their apartment, by the end. Not enough space to put the furniture. The crushing realisation of it was a breaking point for their honeymoon. 

(if there even was a honeymoon in the first place. They still never got to throw a real wedding, with vows and everything).

Good times it was. Filled with an ungodly amount of make out sessions and hopes for the big bright future, in which they would move out to a bigger and better place in no time. 

“Anne. Anne,” Sasha grabs her by the shoulders and shakes lightly. “You’re good. We’re home. You can let them be.”

“Oh?”

“You grasp that kid like it’s glued to you.” 

Only by then Anne noticed that. She really hadn’t been able to let go of Quibby from the beginning. It is unintentional, of course, but still makes her feel guilty for a reason. 

“It’s just… Been too long, I guess?” she mumbles softly. 

From the kitchen they can hear a loud hum of the fridge being open. Probably Marcy. Must be her. 

Anne puts the kid on the couch. Sasha manages to bring the blankets – too quickly and too enthusiastically – and too much even for a human being – and then she looks at Anne with a fright and doubt in her eyes. 

“Do frogs, like… need some?” she nervously glances over the kid and back, calculating on where to put such an amount of blankets. 

“Yes. Yes, Sash,” Anne pinches the bridge of her nose. “Just one.”

Anne walks to the bed – not a very long way. Just across the room, a few steps from the couch and you’re already falling down to the uneven sheets and gaze at the boring white ceiling. She covers her eyes and sighs. 

It was really hard not to fall asleep. 

She wakes up in no time, must be a few minutes or something –  hears loud footsteps from the kitchen (she can only guess that it was still Marcy. She was the one who headed towards the fridge as soon as they came). 

Few minutes pass while Anne tries to get her mind in one place after a sudden sleep. She barely can think straight when Marcy comes with a bowl of cut fruits in her hands and puts it on the bed table. Limps a bit in her steps. 

“Do you think there are other amphibians out there?” Marcy whispers. 

“No. Yes. Maybe.” Sasha answers with a tired voice. 

“We really need to talk to that kid.”

“Not now, Marcy. It’s still a kid and they are scared. What we need to do is… To feed them and, perhaps, offer a normal bath. Kid is dirty as shit.”

“Hey, but we…” she doesn’t need to say anything out loud. By her eyes and stance Sasha knows – even Anne, half-asleep, knows – what she’s about to say. And never will, because Sasha would be such a dick if she made her say something on all this Andrias business, and Anne definitely would beat her up for that. 

“We were teenagers. And this is a literal toddler who can’t even form a coherent sentence.” Sasha says instead. 

Tension in Anne’s muscles lessens a bit. 

“You underestimate the kid. They’ve got to live on the streets for some time, of course they—“

“Oh Frog,” finally Anne breaks. She lets out a loud groan and covers her face with a pillow, screaming into it. “You guys cannot shut up and not bicker even for a second! I’m trying to think here.” she shoots the pillow at them.

“By avoiding the big talk-talk, Banana?– Ough!” a pillow strikes Marcy right in her stomach. “Wow, I actually feel like a scapegoat. Not good.”

Sasha really considered if she should choke either of them with the same exact pillow. 

“So, what should we do first?” Anne puts her arms up behind her head, leaning onto the head of the bed. After a small pillow fight and an obliged change of clothes (she was yelled at. Forced to feel guilty for being too dirty. Like come on, they were living in a literal swamp-universe! Little dust from the streets is nothing at all) her head is working once again. 

She breathes in. The room is stuffy, but the girls were too afraid to open up the window – Quibby can get cold. Or run away. Or anything else. All these thoughts are making a worrisome idea pop up in Anne’s head. 

“We should make our apartment childproof,” her eyes got wide from the realization; and, obviously, from the ridiculousness of the situation. “Huh. It’s kinda strange to say something like this, wow.”

“Frogproof,” Marcy corrects her before slipping into the bed right next to Anne. “…I think we should call Mr. X.”

Anne chokes.

“Oh, yeah,” Sasha, still standing in the middle of the room, nods just slightly. “That’s a good idea.”

Silence suddenly came to the room. Anne pushes herself up, sliding from Marcy’s hug, and looks up at Sasha: 

“I’m not letting this kid live in some lab. No way,” she spits it out without a second thought, no doubt, no remorse. “All they need is like… A good older figure to look after them! Until they get home safe. That’s how it’s supposed to be.”

The other two are not responding. Eyes shift away, muscle tensing. Their reaction makes Anne dazzle a bit, trying to find the reason why – before the sudden understanding strikes her, fierce and furious. 

“God! Am I really the only one who had somewhat of a good found family?”

“Hey, Grimes was okay,” Sasha huffs immediately and crosses her arms in defence. “Even if I was in a cell for a while. Anyway, I turned out fine!”

“No? You didn’t?” suddenly Marcy raises her head and – with a comically horrified expression – turns to look at them both. “Not even a bit.”

“Come on! That is not what I’m talking about!” Sasha spits. 

“Don’t try to fight it.” 

In between their spite – Anne rolls her eyes at the two. They could argue for the frog’s sake all they want, she doesn’t mind it. But at this exact moment they really need to mind the volume, at least. The kid is sleeping just across the room, after all. 

“What I’m saying is,” Sasha walks towards them, sits on the bed; she places her hand onto Anne’s thigh and whispers. “There is nothing wrong with giving the kid up to Mr. X. They wouldn’t end up in a lab, just, uhh… Uh… Okay, I’m sure the govs will come up with something.”

“No.”

“Anne, that is a whole child. Are we even enough to look after it?”

“Not to mention the portal thing. We’re not enough to resolve this situation.” Marcy hunches. 

All this nonsense only makes Anne groan. She wants to say a lot of things – but the conversation ends abruptly when the horrendous sound of someone puking out their guts comes from across the room. 

Girls immediately jump to their feet in a hurry, panic across their faces as they slowly approach the very place where the kid was sleeping just a few seconds ago. 

In the dark of the night they see a frog child looking at them from down up, eyes wide open and shoulders raised.

Kid opens their mouth.

“I threw up.”

Chapter Text

“Aww, you poor thing, come to mama!” Anne takes the frog kid in her arms, cradling it with a soft lull. She carries it to the bathroom by the reflex, letting them balance on the corner of the sink as she looks through the drawers to find some napkins. 

Marcy has nothing to do but to follow her. It was easy for Sasha to rush into the bathroom first and come back with a broom and mop, dealing with cleaning their one and only room all alone as if it was some unwritten script to perform. Like if this polycule somehow got the memo with instructions on how to deal with such matters – and Marcy was the only one who’s mail somehow sorted it into a spam folder or something. 

But still, it all came too familiar to her. 

“It’s alright, my little guy, it’s okay,” Anne pats the kid on the head (God, their hair. It’s a mess, so bad, so tangled, should they just cut it?) and she smiles so brightly and gently. Marcy knows that smile. She knows the intended recipient and that makes her horrified. This baby-talk, this smiling and patience is her way to handle a pet, of all things. It was something that Anne would do only to a cat. “Let me help you, okay?”

And now Anne rubs off the rest of the vomit from Quibby’s chin, her other hands softly caressing the kid’s spine in reassurance. 

Marcy leans against the door of their shower as her head starts to spin. This situation struck her really familiar because they were experiencing it for so many years now – with a freaking Domino. The girls loved this cat so much that they decided to bring her to their new home as soon as possible. 

Even when they were short on money, or didn’t have enough time to spend with this poor creature. This ended up badly, Marcy still has so many sorrows and regrets about the situation. They wanted a cat. It wasn’t on their mind that they were not qualified to have one. 

Leaving her alone for a long period of time, not being able to always get a high-quality premium food that Domino was used to back in Boonchuy’s house. God, they couldn’t even visit the vet on schedule because they were busy as hell trying to navigate their newfound adult lives. 

It was a hard decision to send Domino back to Anne’s parents. But, at least, the poor girl died peacefully from an old age surrounded by love and care, not all alone in their shitty little apartment. 

And now Anne found herself a new Domino. 

“You alright, bud?”

Quibby slowly nods, sobbing and wiping the tears from their eyes. Marcy sees the trust in the kid's eyes – even Marcy sees that, and she often tends not to understand emotions that cross other’s faces. 

“They need to eat properly,” Marcy says with a sigh. “Probably some stomach issues caused by the lack of normal nutrition.”

“Woah, Marce. Kind of wisdom from comic-related research?”

“I’ve been a babysitter, Anne,” Marcy looks at her with concern. “And this is a whole living, breathing child.”

Not a toy, Marcy wants to say. Not a pet. 

She stays silent. 

“Huh. You were… When?” she leans against the sink, hand still holding Quibby to protect the kid from the occasional fall (it’s a frog, they wouldn’t even notice, they can jump and all that. Marcy bites her lip). She notices how Quibby leans into that touch, almost as starved for it. 

“Well, not all of us were destined to a child labour in a shape of a family’s restaurant,” she shrugs her shoulders. “I was a teenager and needed money. And kids are kind of easy when you are still stuck in the exact same interest zone as them.”

“Huh. I guess I’ve never thought you’d be the one to do that kind of job.”

Marcy looks back at Quibby as the kid now stares into her soul, trying to figure her out or just evaluate if she’s capable of harm or not. With no deep thought Marcy raises her hand and waves it in a greeting gesture – and after a few seconds of silence, Quibby does the same. 

Well, at least they are on good terms, now. 

“Anne, with no pressure to it,” she tries to say it soft and easy, but it was rather hard. And awkward. “Autism doesn’t make me incapable of handling kids.”

“Shit, Marce, I–…”

Marcy doesn’t bother to focus on Anne’s apologies, all of her attention comes back to the kid that was now grasping her sleeve. They were hiding.

“I’m not mad,” Marcy doesn’t lift her gaze from the frog. Tries to observe reaction – hypothetically this would make their fear go away. Of course she knows that loves Anne no matter what; and such little misunderstandings are nothing at all in the big picture of their life. But Quibby doesn’t know what. And they are probably just afraid of people arguing. 

This semi-dysfunctional polycule of three (always bickering, always fighting over something and never paying attention to it), of all people, in this exact moment were the only people to play the role of capable adult figures to that kid.

“It’s just a little misunderstanding, and I’m sorry, and I–…” she still looks at Quibby. And, thank Frog, the kid's grasp softens a little. “I know we’re not legally married, but, uh…” it was kind of hard to say all these things after a long cascade of years; when everything was spoken out loud a decade ago. “We’re stuck together.”

“Aw, Mar-Mar!” Anne, to her credit, played that little adult role to her fullest. Even tears up, stepping forward to embrace Marcy in a tight hug. “I miss when we were talking like that.”

Something tells her that Anne wasn't a play-pretend. Ouch. 

“Well I’m not!” she spreads her hands wide as Anne almost lifts her up from the floor. “Not every day needs to be a therapy session!”

“Come o-o-on, sweet Marbles!” Anne grins, eyes closed in such a pleasure rush that it’s almost unbelievable to Marcy how this goof is a scientist. “Say it.”

“What?”

“You know what!” and she really lifts her, leaving for Marcy only support in her tights. Both let out a sigh, almost a groan that comes out of breath from the sudden squeeze. “I’m waiting.”

“Put me down!”

“Nope, you’re in an air prison until you die from starvation.”

“Anne, I’m taller than you, this is unacceptable!”

“Say it.”

“Come on, say it, big monster!” Quibby laughs. 

Both look at the kid, whose legs are swinging from the corner of the sink. Marcy and Anne share a glance before Anne’s hold hardens and she breathes in Marcy’s face. 

“You’ve heard the kid. Say it.”

“What am I even supposed to say?”

Anne rolls her eyes. Her legs and arms are shaking from the weight, but she still stands with her back bent more and more back. 

“Repeat after me, then,” finally she puts Marcy down, but still not letting her go. “Anne.”

“Anne.” Marcy echoes. 

“I.”

“I.”

“Love.”

“Love.” she chuckles. 

“You.”

Marcy waits. She looks at her wife, then at the kid sitting behind her. Smiling, kicking their legs, with their clothes torn and dirty. A real

Child. 

“Come on, say it.” a sudden voice comes out behind their shoulders. Sasha, leaning onto the doorframe, grins widely at the sight. 

Marcy huffs. 

“Anne, I love you,” she pokes her wife’s cheek with a thumb. 

Sasha comes closer, hugging her from behind and holding onto her waist – arms circle around while she holds something very familiar to Marcy. Fabric is in front of her eyes, but she can’t help but shift her focus from it to Sasha's breath on her nape. 

“I’ve brought a change of clothes for Quibs. Poor frog is wearing scraps,” her head lies onto Marcy’s shoulder. “Had to sacrifice one of your plushies, my love. It’s nothing, isn’t it? We’re stuu-u-uck together, after all.” she can hear the wicked mimicry in her voice. 

“How long have you been here?” Marcy spits out of breath. 

“From the start!” Quibby, now standing up on the edge of the sink and holding onto Anne’s finger for a balance, smiles with all their teeth. Anne chuckles. 

Marcy is afraid to acknowledge how much affection her wives show towards the kid. 

With a lot of troubles and headaches they’ve finally made their couch more comfortable for a small frog. A lot of blankets, a pillow that was on its own like an entire bed for Quibby, and a small heating pad underneath to keep the kid warm. 

Maybe it was too much. Now all of the blankets they had in their apartment were covering the couch to the point that it was hard to know if there was even a couch underneath it in the first place. 

But the kid looks happy. They’ve run all the way from the bathroom to the living room, slash one and only bedroom (peeking at every corner of their apartment along the way), and try to look into every drawer they have. 

Anne was horrified when Quibs tried to look at the drawer that wasn’t meant for kids in any way. Deep within Marcy hopes that this little situation would help her to understand that the child is more serious labour than a pet. 

“Well, this was… a lot.” Sasha says, voice muffled as she buries her head against Marcy’s neck. They finally got to lay in bed again, even though it was almost morning. The sun rises slowly; room filled with light-blue and pink colours. 

“Come on, we’re doing a good job!” she can hear how tired Anne’s voice is. “First nights are always hard. It will be easier tomorrow.”

It won’t. Marcy is pretty sure that this logic only applies to cats. 

“If we got to wake up by then.” 

“We’ll sort out a schedule.”

“With a child?” Marcy finally speaks up. “It won’t work. It’s a child. We should call Mr. X.”

“We should, yeah…” Sasha repeats lazily, half-asleep. 

“Guy-y-ys.” Anne groans. She immediately stands up, leaving the other two on the bed, and walks toward the Quibby. 

The kid is still asleep, drools over the couch with such a peaceful smile. Anne never got to see such a serene face on Quibby before. She tugs the blanket over them, stays for a bit to see how they settle more comfortably, still asleep, still smiling – and then Anne turns back to her girls with a concerned look. 

“Aren’t we supposed to be more than fit for this job? Who else can help this little frog if it’s not us?”

Something changes in how Sasha shifts a bit, head moving on top of Marcy’s neck. Her hug relaxes a bit, softens as she looks with a spare eye at the sleeping child. She’ll understand, Anne knows that – serious-and-fearsome-Waybright always had a soft spot for kids. Especially troubled ones. 

And, after all, Sasha was a good human being despite everything. She cannot just kick the child out on the streets. 

“Oh, fu-u-uh you. ‘lright. We’re keeping it,” she moves to her back,  little moan escapes in defeat. “Marcy?”

Marcy is silent. She’s nervous, scared a bit – leg taps on the bedsheet just by the pure reflex, and head turns away to Sasha with no intent to even look Anne in the eyes. 

“Marce?” Anne repeats the question. 

“…Let’s talk tomorrow.”

Chapter Text

The Talk never comes up the next morning. 

Was they too tired from being up so late, or too busy with a child that was running around their apartment and crushing everything on their way – doesn’t matter. Sasha knows that it’s unavoidable. 

Sasha is on a midway sipping through her late morning tea. A semi-tradition and semi-habit that she picked from her mother unconsciously; she doesn’t really likes her own mother, but some things are just unavoidable. Like a talk they’ll get on whether they should let the kid stay or not. 

Anne in the background is busy messing with Quibby: frog hands are grabbing Anne’s hair and almost… Sasha squirms to see that the kid is biting her wife. 

“Should we intervene?” Marcy asks politely. She sits right next to Sasha, legs raised on the chair and chin leaning on knees. Coffee in one hand, phone in another, thumb always tapping something on screen. 

“No. I don’t think so,” Sasha takes another sip. “She clearly enjoys it.”

Anne screams and tries to take Quibby away from her face. Effortlessly, no need to say. 

“No, I’m not!” she screams. 

And Marcy’s eyes are glowing with something that Sasha cannot quite understand. She takes the last sip before putting away the cup and – already knowing just by heart that Marcy is ready to run and to make any excuse on why they can’t have that talk right now; she takes her hand in hers and squeezes it. 

“Do we need to talk?” Marcy mumbles with a tired moan. 

“Yes.”

“Ughh,” her head bumps into Sasha’s. “I can’t even have my morning coffee.”

“First of all, you’re not allowed to have coffee!” Anne manages to say it in between her screams, still being beaten by a child. “And second of all, stop pretending to be Garfield! Not. Cool. Eugh, Quib, no biting! No biting!”

“Yeah, we’re still too young for that.” Sasha crosses her arms. 

“Not really too young! Ouch, Quibs, that’s my good side!” she picks Quibby tenderly by the scruff of their shirt, dropping them to the floor; the kid is not ready to end this play-fight yet, sticking to Anne’s legs like glued. “Alright, okay, start this conversation over without me for a sec. Quibby, come on, I need to talk!”

“Nah.” is all that Quibby says before slapping Anne’s cheek with their tongue and laughing. 

Sasha and Marcy share a glance. 

“Well, at least the kid is not scared anymore.” Sasha shrugs her shoulders. 

Their bathroom changed into a boardroom quickly. Sasha, in her full commander stance and restraint, walks from one side of the room to another – too bad that there is not enough space for a wide menacing walk of an army leader. And she just makes two or three steps before turning around and changing the trajectory. 

Marcy sits on the toilet. Maybe because she was the smartest one, and found herself a suitable and comfortable position by closing the lid; (or maybe because her spine damage will never let her stand for too long, not with the kind of lifestyle she lives). 

“Well, let’s look at our situation.” Sasha states. 

“I think our situation is clear?” the other woman looks at Sasha with pure confusion. 

“It’s an important matter to report the status! Soldier boy, gear up and let’s start with this!” a loud thump on the floor and a chin raised up. 

“Yes-s, ma’am!” 

“…too much?”

“Not a chance, ma’am!” Marcy salutes and grins before her face shifts into a thinking one. “Well, so we have… A frog child in our bedroom. And also Anne! Good to see her once in a while in the sunlight.”

“Yeah, tots,” she snorts and laughs softly. “Okay, good. What else?”

“Ugh… Oh, the kid is also, like… somewhere nine years old? The growing process is a bit different, if I were to judge. Not in a good way different. Maybe some troubles since the sprout state. We should run an experiment!”

“Uh-uh…” Sasha puts her hand on her mouth and frowns. “So, not in a good state. Get it. Something else?”

“Nothing to report, Professor.”

“Is that some kind of a reference I don’t get?”

Marcy nods. Right after that a door squeaks open and Anne pulls up to the bathroom, a wide and stupid grin from ear to ear on her face is one of the tired but still happy ones. She closes the door behind her and with a quick click locks it, blocking the way out with her body.  Tired look from under her brows and a noisy breathing would make it all seem quite romantic if they were in a different situation. 

“So-o-o, what’cha you guys doing?” Anne blurts out. 

“Report our status, cadet!” 

Anne looks at Sasha amused, but after a few seconds a light sparkle gets through her eyes as she smiles and salutes her wives. 

“The target is distracted! Our party is free to council for a… short amount of time. Before we have to feed the kid. Or they get bored.”

“Did you get some info on how the frog ended up here?” Marcy momentarily lingers to Anne’s touch as she approaches, throwing her hands around her waist and resting her head over her wife’s stomach. 

“Nope. They don’t know that,” she boops Marcy on the cheek. “Oh! Did’ya know that the kid’s full name is Quiblet? What a joke! Oh, and it’s also they-them, ha! Glad that the kid got it all figured out before they came here. We’re clearly not the best people to help a child with it, huh.”

“Huh,” Marcy actively nods and looks away – caught in the memories so bad that the shiver visibly runs over her skin. She shakes her head. “Yeah. Pretty sure we thought that gay was sin back then.”

“That’s a catholic school for you.”

Sasha huffs at the two, letting them be all touchy and tender with each other while she continues to walk from one corner to another. She is on duty, after all. 

“So, let’s address the elephant in the room. The thing with the portal will take some time,” step one, step to, turn around – her head starts to spin. “And while we’re figuring this out, the kid needs to be watched by.”

Marcy and Anne agree with a very thoughtful and honest humming; and a wistful nod, too. And all while Anne holds Marcy in a tight hug, standing in front of the toilet and rubbing her back. 

Hard to say that they are capable of doing anything remotely serious, Sasha thinks to herself. But maybe it was just her own insecurities crawling out, so she forces herself to shake off all those thoughts and look at their situation practically. 

“So, Anne wants to keep them.”

“Yep! That’s a good thing to do.”

“And Marcy is against it.”

“Kind of.”

She stops for a while, pressing her back against the wall to try and collect all of her thoughts together. Something about a solid cold that presses against her skin makes her more confident – it’s nothing compared to real armour, but a good old chestplate wasn’t really a good fit for home activities. 

“And what do you want, Sash?”

“I…” she stands up, leaving her spot next to the wall. Stood up for a bit, then returned back to the wall, then walked away again in a rush. “Okay. I’m afraid of parenthood too. So I’m with Marcy on that one. But, still, letting the child stay in a lab? That’s just cruel.”

“That’s what I said!”

Marcy hums in surprise, eyes wide open as she slowly pulls her head up. “But I’m not afraid of parenthood?”

“Huh?” both women sigh in unison. 

“I’m not? Like, there are three of us in this. More than expected,” she says, unexpectedly calm and with no hesitation. Like it was nothing. “Anyway, that is not of our concern. A bigger problem is that the kid would get attached.”

Sasha finally walks to the toilet and stands right next to Anne, her gaze wandering through Marcy’s face. 

“And being attached to another world is just pure heartache. You know that,” Marcy frowns, finally letting herself feel distressed by the pressure. Her shoulders are lower than usual even despite her bad posture and head almost completely shrank back. “It hurts. To not belong where you live.” 

Something tightens in Sasha’s chest as she hears that. Frog, it hurts; she agrees. 

Fist tightens and she bites her lip. God knows how much she missed her toads, although they were stinky and warty as Hell, they were her’s, after all. Old, ugly face of Grime lingers in the back of her mind and – smiles haughtily, the only sincere smile he ever knew. It was gross to admit that she still misses his awful snore. 

“At least they can be happy while it all lasts,” Anne makes a step back, bumping into the wall and cursing. Her brows are low, and hands move around wide,  spread in anger. “Isn’t that enough?”

“You can’t just treat people like some toy, Anne!” Marcy whines. “It’s a child. It’ll break them!”

“They are already here! Already away from home and their family, goddamit, some stupid lab would make things even worse for them! 

Marcy is silent. Sasha waits for her answer with a hold of her breath, eyes shifting from Anne to Marcy and back, and she waits. 

“Can’t argue with that.” is the only thing that Marcy says. 

Something awful can be heard from their living room – first notes of the exact same wicked music that would play in Bosch’s paintings of the worst of hell. Sasha slowly turns to Anne with an unspeakable horror on her face. 

“Anne, how exactly have you managed to distract Quibby?”

Anne shrugs off her shoulders. 

“With an IPad?”

“Oh God,” Sasha gasps. “There is a fucking cocomelon banging in our apartment. Seriously, Anne?!”

“No. No, no,” Marcy chokes. “Anne, how did you even get to fail on the first day?!”