Chapter Text
“What about this one?" Gideon asked Pyrrha, half-heartedly tugging a sleeve of a suit hanging from the display.
Pyrrha turned to take a look at the dark grey jacket with the subtle pinstripe pattern that Gideon was pointing at. She tapped her knuckles to her chin las if she was seriously considering it, though it was immediately obvious to Pyrrha that the suit was atrocious. Gideon was clearly overwhelmed by the selection and was choosing at random, which while being perfectly understandable, was not very helpful. There was no way Gideon would actually want to wear that to her own wedding, especially if Pyrrha got to decide, which she did.
The tailor's shop was aggressively minimalist, all stark white walls adorned with nothing but a single framed black-and-white photograph of a suit collar. In the middle of the store, three mannequins stood in a perfect formation, wearing near-identical navy-blue suits distinguished only by subtle variations in lapel width. The point was that this shop was the kind of fancy where just breathing might cost you fifty bucks.
Pyrrha glanced down at her boots where the steel toes were scuffed from work. Gideon had asked her to accompany her to this shopping trip at the last minute, so Pyrrha had come right straight from work. Because of this, flakes of sawdust still sat on her high-visibility jacketed shoulders like a comically bad case of dandruff.
“Yeah, it's great, if you want to look like a banker,” Pyrrha replied.
Even if it wasn't Pyrrha’s best work when it came to comedy, Gideon laughed. She was loud enough that the shopkeeper looked up from his computer with a disapproving frown. This was fine since he had offered them very little else than disapproving frowns ever since they had stepped into his boutique.
Pyrrha and Gideon had so far been allowed to shop in relative peace in a boutique where the average customer would’ve been badgered with relentless attention from the staff. The shopkeeper, a balding man with a lavender-colored silk pocket square and a perfectly trimmed beard, had looked at Gideon like he had never seen a woman in his shop before and was not quite sure how to deal with one. The best he apparently could do, was to ignore her altogether. And from the strained, almost condescending “Good afternoon, sir” he had offered to Pyrrha when she had entered the store just a few minutes after Gideon, she had been able to tell that while he thought she was a man, to him she definitely was not the kind of man that should shop in a place like this.
That was fine by Pyrrha, picking out a wedding-appropriate suit for her dead ex’s daughter was a weird enough experience without having to deal with snobby customer service. While they moved along the wall of suits, Pyrrha was aware of the shopkeeper watching them like they might stuff suits into their pockets and make a run for it. Gideon was having nervous fun, she ran her fingers over the fabrics with the surprised reverence of someone who had not owned expensive clothes and didn't really even know where to start. Pyrrha watched her, chest tightening with some sort of feeling.
“How about this?” Gideon asked about a black suit.
“Too funeral,” Pyrrha said.
“Harrow might like that,” Gideon defended her pick.
“Fair enough, try this too.”
Pyrrha tossed a jacket she had chosen from the display rack at Gideon. It was black as well, but it had shiny detailing on the lapels, which made it both interesting and fit for a wedding. Gideon inspected the jacket, twisting the fabric around in a way that made the light sparkle on the lapel, but she didn’t seem too impressed. She wrinkled her nose at the jacket.
“That would make me look like a magician,” she protested.
“You say that like it's a bad thing,” Pyrrha said.
Gideon tried the jacket on even though she had made up her mind about it already, clearly just to please Pyrrha. Pyrrha could feel her face involuntarily softening into a sort of smile. She was greatly pleased by Gideon’s clumsy attempts at being considerate of her feelings, even if both of them decided that the jacket was not what they were looking for. They continued their search through the pretentious boutique.
"So how are the rest of the wedding plans coming along?" Pyrrha asked conversationally, "Harrow got her outfit yet?"
"Yeah, last week," Gideon said. “It's a long black dress, which was no surprise.”
“Nice,” Pyrrha said with an approving nod.
It was not exactly a traditional choice, but the fun thing about queer weddings was that tradition rarely played a role. Now it made sense that Gideon had invited Pyrrha out shopping out of the blue, if the overly critical Harrowhark had already chosen her dress, it was high time for Gideon to get her suit.
Pyrrha handed another jacket more expensive than Gideon’s monthly rent, to Gideon who obediently tried it on. Pyrrha gave her a critical once-over. The suit wasn't bad, but it also wasn't perfect either and they were after perfection today. The cut was too boxy for Gideon's already broad build. Obviously places this fancy had an in-house tailor, but there still was only so much you could do. She gave Gideon another jacket to try on. This one was better, the lines were cleaner, the fit more natural across Gideon's shoulders.
"Now we're talking," Pyrrha said, genuinely impressed.
“You really think so?” Gideon asked, tugging on the sleeve and twisting around trying to see what the back looked like from the mirror by the wall. They hadn’t bothered going to the dressing rooms.
“Would I ever lie to you?” Pyrrha asked.
“I mean, probably.”
That was a fair enough guess, Pyrrha had to admit.
The shopkeeper was enough of a professional to see that now was the time to do his job and approached with his measuring tape, muttering something about minor adjustments, saving Pyrrha from having to answer.
Gideon was ushered onto a little stool in front of several mirrors. Pyrrha watched as the shopkeeper pinned and marked the fabric, noting the places where the suit could be taken in or let out. Gideon probably would’ve bought the suit just off the rack, but places like these sold perfection. She stood there awkwardly, arms raised away from her sides, looking like she was trying very hard not to breathe too deeply. The sight made Pyrrha smile and she wondered, not for the first time, if this was what parenting was supposed to feel like or if she’d just invented the sensation for lack of a real comparison.
"Perfect," the shopkeeper said. "Now, as for the payment..."
He trailed off like he didn’t believe that Gideon and Pyrrha combined had enough money to even stand in his shop. The arctic chill of this boutique’s customer service was finally starting to get on Pyrrha’s nerves a bit, and she was really good at tolerating bullshit. Pyrrha herself owned one suit, which was a very good one and regularly drew comments on how well she cleaned up, but if she ever needed another one, she wouldn't get it from here. She smiled her best smile at the shopkeeper.
"I'll take care of it," Pyrrha said firmly.
Gideon hopped off the little stool. "What, no. You’re already paying for so much, and as I told you, I've been saving for this."
"Consider it my wedding gift."
The shopkeeper disappeared behind his desk to fill in the order for the tailor. As they waited, Gideon fidgeted sort of nervously, which was unusual behaviour for her. Her eyes darted around the room, never settling on any one thing, and she kept playing with the zipper of her backpack which she had picked up from the floor where she had carelessly discarded it when it had been time to try on jackets. Pyrrha thought Gideon wanted to continue talking about money, and prepared to argue about it once again. They had already had a lengthy discussion when Pyrrha had announced she’d be paying for the whole wedding. Instead, Gideon had something else, something worse in mind.
"I've been thinking about maybe inviting my dad to the wedding," she said. “Thoughts?”
“And prayers,” Pyrrha replied reflexively.
Gideon didn't find the joke funny for once. She shot a warning glance at Pyrrha, her bright eyes narrowing dangerously. Pyrrha kept her expression neutral though something twisted in her gut when she imagined meeting John at Gideon’s wedding. Pyrrha felt possessive over Gideon in a way she knew she had no right to feel, so she made herself smile. She brought her hands up to the level of her shoulders in mock surrender, fingers splayed.
“Hey, it is your big day, invite whoever you want,” she said placatingly. “I just don't understand why you’d want to invite him all of a sudden. I thought you guys hadn't talked since like last year.”
“We haven't. I just thought inviting your dad to your wedding is one of those things you should do,” Gideon said.
“Fuck should,” Pyrrha said sincerely, and Gideon laughed.
Pyrrha didn't want Gideon to invite John Gaius to the wedding, or to anything at all to be honest, but she didn't really have any right to tell Gideon so. Her claim to be in Gideon's life was pretty flimsy to begin with, and she didn't want to start jeopardising it by starting to tell Gideon what to do. All she was to Gideon was her dead mother’s ex-girlfriend, which was nothing at all. Still, Gideon had invited Pyrrha to this shopping trip instead of John, John didn't even know Gideon was getting married.
“Well, anyway, you don't have to decide anything yet,” Pyrrha said, sort of hoping that Gideon would just forget to invite John. The kid was easily distracted.
“I guess,” Gideon shrugged.
Pyrrha made eye contact with the shopkeeper, who did his best to pretend that he was still typing something onto his computer and was not in fact eavesdropping on this dreadful conversation. He wasn’t very convincing, Pyrrha could see that he was typing nonsense while his eyes darted between her and Gideon, clearly trying to puzzle out what they were to each other. Good luck with that one, buddy. It was fair, Pyrrha didn't really know how to describe it either in a word or two.
Ignoring the man’s lousy charade of nonchalance, Pyrrha approached the counter and paid the bill, which was only a little unreasonable. The shopkeeper offered her the chance to pay half now and half when the alterations were finished, but Pyrrha paid it all up front. This earned her a “thank you, sir”, which was a fraction warmer than any previous interaction. Gideon had missed the bit where he had misgendered Pyrrha for the first time, but noticed now. She turned around and looked like she was about to correct him, but Pyrrha silenced her with a look. Pyrrha appreciated the gesture, but wasn't in the mood to prolong this interaction any further.
They exited the boutique, the little brass bell tinkling behind them annoyingly. The late afternoon air was refreshing and crisp. To Pyrrha’s great delight, Gideon didn’t seem to be in any great hurry to leave her company yet, so they began to walk away from the expensive shopping street together. Pyrrha dug in her work jacket’s pocket for her battered pack of cigarettes, tapped one out, and lit up with three quick flicks of her lighter. The lighter wasn’t really hers, she had borrowed it from some guy at work and never returned it, not because she didn't remember, but because she thought he was a bit of a dick.
"How are things going with Camilla and Palamedes? Still good?" Gideon asked abruptly as they passed a shop that sold only hand-crafted umbrellas.
The question caught Pyrrha slightly off-guard, though she should have expected it. Pyrrha had been dating Gideon’s nerdy friends for almost a full year by now, and while Gideon’s initial shock had finally died down, she was still quite interested about it. Gideon was a good kid, she had no problems with the polyamorous aspect, and even the objections she had about the age difference seemed more performative than anything. If it had been anyone else’s friends but hers and Harrow’s, she probably would have been completely nonchalant about who Pyrrha was seeing.
“We’re good,” Pyrrha said, and she was pretty sure she wasn't lying about that.
She hadn’t even attempted anything resembling a proper commitment since the days of Gideon’s mother, which had admittedly been a spectacular shitshow from start to finish anyway. So here she was, kind of practising it now with two twenty-somethings who were too serious for their own good. Pyrrha knew that both Palamedes and Camilla cared for her a great deal, and the past year had been great fun for everyone involved, but she just wasn’t sure where to go from here. They had been an incredibly tightly knit pair before letting Pyrrha in their bed, and despite them being the ones taking their relationship to some formal level, Pyrrha wasn't convinced that they didn't prioritise each other over her.
That was the problem with closed triads. Would she one day be clothes shopping for the wedding of Palamedes and Camilla as their collective maid of honour?
Pyrrha was not at all excited to have the overdue conversation about the future of their relationship anytime soon. In fact, Pyrrha’s plan was to deal with it as she dealt with most of her problems; completely ignore it and hope that it would go away on its own. It was unfair and also probably one of the reasons why she was having such problems with commitment. Unfortunately, being self-aware didn’t make it any easier to actually deal with the problems you were aware of. At least since Gideon was here, Pyrrha couldn’t just skip town if her relationship troubles got too much to deal with.
Despite these complex thoughts, Pyrrha kept her expression neutral and kept smoking like nothing was amiss. Camilla and Palamedes were always on her case about trying to get her to quit smoking, but Gideon hadn't started worrying about Pyrrha’s lungs yet. There was something on her mind, though. Gideon looked at her like she was waiting for her to divulge at least some details about how good the relationship was, but eventually realised Pyrrha was done talking.
“That's nice,” Gideon said lamely, unsure how to continue the conversation.
“Yeah,” Pyrrha agreed.
Awkward silence settled over them. Pyrrha kept her attention on her cigarette, while Gideon fidgeted again with her backpack. Pyrrha and Gideon both sometimes still struggled to figure out how they should act around each other. They certainly were not relatives, there was a whole negative paternity test about it, but it was not quite that they were friends either. There wasn't a clear blueprint for how they should act.
Pyrrha found the situation terrible, she was usually great at socialising and not prone to being awkward. Of course, some of it was because she had spent a lot of time avoiding making any deeper connections since Gideon’s mother and Pyrrha’s brother had died over twenty years ago. Her wonderful casual charm and quick wit, which worked great with strangers, just didn’t do it here.
Gideon chewed her bottom lip awkwardly, clearly also racking her brain for something to say and suddenly elbowed Pyrrha to the side when an idea struck her. The jab was not particularly strong, with all her years of strength training, Gideon could’ve done much better, but Pyrrha winced performatively anyway. The corner of Gideon’s mouth twitched delightfully as she pretended to ignore this bit of theatrics.
“Let’s get dinner. You’re buying,” Gideon suggested, and Pyrrha agreed easily enough.