She's Still My Affinity

Family Meeting

Fanny loved holding Catherine's hand. It surprised her, the way her fingers perfectly fit in the crook of Catherine's palm; the hills of one hand meeting the valleys of the other until they melded into a single unit.

Strange, how right it felt; Fanny had never experienced the urge to maintain extended physical contact before, unless as a means to an entirely pleasurable end. But the sensation of Catherine's hand in hers was proving nearly as satisfying. The occasional squeeze of her palm was a conversation in itself, one that made her heart jump in her chest, and prompted a ridiculous, embarrassing grin across her face.

Fanny had taken to clearing her throat when this happened, hoping to mask her visceral reaction to Catherine's touch. She thought this decoy successful until Catherine instructed her to take a cough drop or just accept the fact that, for once, she was happy. So Fanny did, gladly taking Catherine's hand as they strolled through the streets, not caring how obvious it was that she had been suckered by love.

When Catherine had first professed her feelings for Fanny almost two months ago, those three little words had unlocked something within; a long-dormant emotion felt both deep and atavistic. Only then did it dawn on Fanny that these foreign invaders of joy, comfort, and trust added up to a ethereal quality this world had named long ago: love.

On a particularly brisk day, a different variety of nerves plagued Fanny. She was finding it hard to concentrate on what Catherine was saying, something about her sisters, Danielle and Sylvie, and her daughter, Chiara.

Fanny only realized Catherine had trailed off when she was yanked back to a sudden stop, Catherine having paused in her stride.

"You should pay attention" - Catherine said, unhooking her hand from Fanny's. - "I'm trying to help you make a good impression."

She crossed one arm across her chest to cradle the opposite elbow, a sure harbinger of a stern lecture.

"I'm listening" - Fanny said, interjecting before the blonde could continue. - "I've just remembered, I think I left the stove on."

Catherine raised her eyebrow. - "That would be impressive, considering your stove hasn't been used since the French Revolution."

Fanny pursed her lips in thought and nodded. - "You're right. I should cook more. Starting now. Come on, let's go back and I'll make you something."

Fanny swiveled on the spot, but Catherine reached out and grabbed her arm, preventing her escape.

"We're going to lunch, Fanny. You can't get out of this one."

"I forgot to mention, I'm horribly allergic to themed restaurants. If we go I'll drop dead on the spot."

But Catherine still refused to release Fanny from her grasp, and spoke in measured tones one might use when arguing with a tantrum-prone toddler.

"We don't have time for this. Now, you have no reason to be nervous. I'll be there the whole time."

Fanny scoffed. - "Nervous? Please." - She turned to face Catherine, shoulders slumped. - "All I'm worried about is food poisoning."

Catherine tilted her head in a deep frown, as skeptical as if Fanny had just announced quitting smoking. - "Fanny ..."

"Fine" - Fanny snapped. She folded her arms over her chest and tapped her fingers against her elbow, cross and annoyed and wanting to delay this lunch as long as possible. - "Your family hates me."

It came out whinier than she intended, so she adjusted her tone. - "And I don't consort with my enemies."

Catherine no-nonsense posture did not slacken, her eyebrow, if possible, rising even higher into her hairline.