date posted: 2022-11-15
summary: The efficiency of umbrellas and straws as weapons, among other things.
word count: 1,576 words
notes: title from ai no tane by morning musume. steph is robin for no real reason
“Hey,” Stephanie started, a little quiet against the rain hitting the ground but not indecipherable. “Do you think we should carry umbrellas? Like, not just to give to people when they need it. I think we could fight with them,” and Stephanie is staring into the distance from the fire escape they’ve taken cover under, which makes it more comfortable for Cassandra to stare at her in confusion before she asks for an explanation.
Stephanie doesn’t wait for Cassandra to voice it, though. “I don’t know, I just think they’d be handy,” she shrugs, eyes briefly closing. “Cover from the rain and an immediate weapon. Dual purpose.”
Cassandra toys with the wrapper of her egg sandwich, parts of it damp from the rain but not enough to make it inedible. It’d take a lot more than poor weather to render it inedible for her, but Stephanie would probably protest. She rips off a piece of the sandwich, throws it in her mouth, and answers before there’s a silence for Stephanie to fill.
“Umbrellas are weak. A sword would be better,” she says, food muffling her words.
Stephanie’s loudly sipping from her ginormous cup of soda, but Cassandra’s words make her pause, something lighting her eyes.
“Oh, you’d look so cool fighting with a sword.”
“I have before,” Cassandra shrugs, feeling a little warm.
“And I haven’t seen it! We should change that,” Stephanie replies, a big smile splitting her face and her head gleefully tilted. Cassandra finds herself grinning at the sight.
“I don’t need a sword to fight,” she says.
“Well, yeah, you can knock someone on their ass without looking. I mean, I just saw that like, an hour ago,” Stephanie rolls her eyes and leans back on the wall. It’s a little annoying for the both of them, balancing on the rungs of this fire escape, but not enough to be cumbersome.
Stephanie’s right, about kicking ass and all. She remembers her knuckles meeting bony frames harbored by bulky leather before she saw it. Some kicks and uppercuts from the both of them, and the goons were down and out on the musty, garbage bag-adjacent sidewalk in front of the deli they were accosting before being intercepted.
Stephanie shrugged when Cassandra asked about it, said something about mob money, and then put her fist to her hand, cocksure. She remarked something about the foul smell of the trash bags messing with her fight groove, Cassandra remembers.
She thought the smell wasn’t as strong through the night’s rough wind, especially with how they ripped through it in the fight, but she didn’t mention it. Cassandra fondly remembered the trace of sharp air through her fingers and Stephanie’s confident, toothy grin at the scene as they wrapped up, zip ties in hand.
Cassandra is glancing at her again, and sees that Stephanie’s eyes have a brighter tint to them, her shoulders raised in excitement. Stephanie raises her shoulders a lot, she’s noticed – usually in alarm, but Cassandra definitely prefers this lively form of it.
Stephanie turns to look back at her, eyes glowing and all. “Do you think Bruce has swords anywhere? I bet he does, I mean he has that giant gun chamber. I’ll bug him about it later. We could sword fight each other, I think. Bruce made me practice with staffs, it can’t be that different,” she says, all in two breaths. Cassandra relaxes her head to the side, looking at Stephanie and how she gleams.
“Swords are different. They…” she pauses, staring at her sandwich but not really looking at it. Searching, mentally.
“Fierce. They fierce,” she decides. It’s strange on her tongue. Stephanie tilts her head a little.
“Fierce…” she repeats under her breath, searching like Cassandra was. “Oh, do you mean pierce? Swords do that. They’re sharp and stabby,”
Cassandra chuckles before she realizes it. “Pierce, yes. They’re stabby,” she agrees, hand to her face to partially hide her smile. Stephanie’s chuckling, too.
“I mean, staffs could be stabby too,” Stephanie gets out, and then she snorts. “Stabby staffs.”
“Anything is stabby enough if you make it,” Cassandra says. “Not as much as a sword.”
Stephanie shrugs, still grinning, still glowing. “True, true. You could probably stab someone with this straw, honestly,” she says, holding up her cup. Cassandra snorts too, unrefined and bright.
At that, Stephanie takes out the straw, waving it around like a kitchen knife. “Hey, if this rain lets up, we should go fight someone with this straw. You’d probably find a use for it even if it can’t stab,” she says.
Cassandra shrugs, leaning back on the wall with Stephanie, still looking at her. “It’d bend,” she starts, then seriously thinks about it. “It might hurt in the eye,” she says.
That has Stephanie laughing again, shoulders lifted and shaking but without weight. Cassandra notices her hair’s a bit damp from the rain, hard to notice in the dark, but it still has a little glow to it like usual. The headband that usually keeps it out of her face has slipped a little, from sweat and the rain, she guesses, strands falling in front of her eyes and some sticking to her forehead.
Cassandra wonders how the domino mask stays on in such heavy rain, fire escape cover or not. She kind of wants to find out. Instead, Stephanie fills the sudden silence, head tilted in appreciation, she sees.
“Leave it to Cass to find an appropriate weaponization of an every day disposable object,” Stephanie declares, still appreciative. Cassandra’s neck is a little warm, and she notices her own shoulders are raised, so she lowers them, closing her eyes a little longer than a blink.
Cassandra decides to break the silence, this time.
“Shiva gave me a sword to fight with,” she says. “I didn’t use it. Easier with my hands.” She splits the final piece of her sandwich, stuffs the sandwich wrapper into some nondescript pocket of her belt.
“That’s not surprising,” Stephanie says with her cup to her face. The straw’s still in her other hand, Cassandra notices. It’s probably a little wet from the rain leaking through the alley’s short ledge of a cover.
Cassandra offers a piece of the sandwich to Stephanie, who nods in gratitude, grabbing the piece with the hand holding the straw. Somehow, she bites into the piece while balancing the straw between her fingers. Cassandra bites into her own piece, noticing the breezy look of Stephanie’s grasp, the natural movement of her shoulders as she shifts her weight. Cassandra finishes chewing before she starts.
“I could teach you. If you want,” she says, a little quietly, she realizes. Stephanie smiles at that and shakes her head lightly.
“You already teach me enough, Cass,” she shrugs. “A sword’s too lethal anyway. Bruce would have my head if he found me with one in the streets.” It’s a little resentful, for some reason.
Stephanie’s hair falls forward with her head as she looks down a little, at her feet and the raindrops gathered all over the fire escape’s rungs. They’re careful enough to not slip, Cassandra knows, but she still thinks about it, worries.
Cassandra steps forward a little bit, registers the relentless rain and how it roars. It’s a little much for her, hopefully not too much for Stephanie.
“It’s… a slow night.” She starts, then pauses, glancing beside her. Stephanie nods her head once in agreement, holding up the cup again. The straw’s back in.
“It’s why we took a lunch break, yeah,” she concurs. Stephanie finished her chicken nuggets before the rain started, sneaking several to Cassandra, because twenty pieces isn’t enough, Cass, I’m not eating all of these alone, you know, which Cassandra found a little funny, because she was the one who said Stephanie should order twenty instead of ten.
She wonders if Stephanie was aware of her ulterior motive, that Cassandra was stealing them as much as she let the other girl believe they were being snuck to her.
“Grappling is safe in the rain. I’ve done it,” she blurts. Stephanie immediately grins at the offer.
“No rooftop tag though, too slippery. I don’t want to get benched from the tunic for slipping on a vent and twisting my ankle,” she remarks, and it has Cassandra laughing at the image.
“No rooftop tag,” she agrees, then appends. “My cave. No chase. Together,” she proposes.
Stephanie is smiling, light and gentle. Cassandra likes her devious grins, but she loves the softer upturn of her lips. Confident, confiding. She squints, thinking about the prefixes for a moment.
She recalls Barbara telling her the words for the shop on the corner, with the warm pastries and icy birthday cakes with the thinly piped letters. Confectionary, she remembers, connects. Cassandra smiles, feeling for her grappling hook, and notices Stephanie does the same when she recognizes the motion, cup still in one hand. Her face is a little warm, cheeks used to the smile now.
Stephanie is still smiling, too. She aims her grappling hook outward, to the building across, and looks to the mask in Cassandra’s hand, then meets her eyes. Cassandra pulls it over her face, tilts her head in readiness.
She matches Stephanie’s movements, sees her raised shoulders and registers the confidence in them as Stephanie fires the hook forward. Cassandra copies her, then feels the rush of wind through her shoulders, sees it push Stephanie’s hair behind her. It’s a sweet sight.