Forget just fighting, this was a whole other ballgame that Vi was, needless to say, pretty unprepared for. Obviously, she loved Caitlyn. Loved her with everything she had. But there were certain aspects of her Cupcake that were…difficult.

For one, Caitlyn didn’t have meltdowns, something she’d weirdly come to expect ever since she found out Caitlyn was autistic. She’d only see in happen once and holy hell, was it rough. No one wanted to see someone they loved in pain, nevertheless her girl. But in replacement of that, she fought.

Picked fights over absolutely nothing to blow off steam or basically get more stimulation. That’s what Google had told her anyway, Caitlyn would never admit she was being pissy because she was under or overwhelmed. And when she shut down, Jesus, nothing could make her talk. Not even her endless set of mongoose jokes.

And with Caitlyn’s very perfectionistic ways, Vi was sorta walking on eggshells when things got tense. She knew, logically, it wasn’t Caitlyn’s fault. She wasn’t being a bitch, she was just…trying to process the world. Did it hurt sometimes still? Fuck yeah it did. And so what if Vi was sensitive? Rejection hits hard no matter how old you are, especially when she grew up the way she did. No wonder, trauma messes with your psyche for life.

So here Vi was, fighting for her life in the kitchen while Caitlyn freaked out about something as small as Vi leaving like, a cup’s worth left of milk in the fridge. Apparently, that was her last straw she had to give. She took a deep breath, ran a hand through her shock of cranberry hair, and tried to be calm and supportive to her wife who was obviously at wits end. Here she went, wish her luck.

“Cait, m’sorry. I didn’t have a use for the rest, and I didn’t want to waste it. I can go out right now and buy more, but you have just take a breath. It’s just milk, right?”

Apparently, the only thing that sounded good to Caitlyn for dinner was pancakes and without milk for the batter…all hell would break loose.