Sunset ^beta

Surge pulls on her leather jacket, turning this way and that to look at herself in the mirror. After a moment she groans in frustration and turns to look at Kit. "What do you think, Drippy? This…" She gestures at herself, then holds up the denim jacket she was wearing before this. "Or this?"

"Leather," Kit says.

Surge frowns and turns back to the mirror. She studies her appearance again, then shrugs off the leather jacket and replaces it with the denim one.

Behind her, Kit sighs in that way she knows means he's trying not to roll his eyes. "Why do you care so much what you look like, anyway? You told me you're only doing this because you wanted to steal Sonic's girlfriend."

"I don't," Surge says. She purses her lips and takes off the denim jacket, then walks over to her closet to rummage around. "And I am."

"Then why does it matter what you wear?" Kit asks. "You accomplished your goal the second Amy said yes to a date. You could stand her up and you'll still have won."

Surge sets her jaw. Kit's right; she's already won. She shouldn't care what Amy thinks of her now—and she doesn't. Definitely not. But, still—

She doesn't just want to take Amy away from Sonic for one evening. She wants Amy to stop chasing after him entirely, to realize Surge is just better than him. To choose Surge over him.

Finally, she finds what she was looking for, a black bomber jacket with neon green accents. She pulls it on and turns towards Kit, arms spread triumphantly. "How about this?"

She ends up wearing the bomber jacket, hands stuffed in the pockets and shoulders drawn up as she waits for Amy to arrive. After a few minutes of leaning against the wall, a group of teens sitting on the terrace of a nearby cafe start giving her looks, whispering behind their hands. Surge does her best to ignore it, but by the time Amy finally arrives she's glaring at everyone who so much as glances her way.

"Hi, Surge—"

"You're late," Surge snaps.

Amy's smile falters. She's wearing a cream-colored cardigan over a baby blue sundress. The sleeves of the cardigan are slightly baggy, so she has to push them up to glance at her watch. "It's only one minute past two," she says, confusion evident in her voice.

Surge clicks her tongue. "One minute late." And dressed in Sonic's color. Sure, she looks nice, but did she have to wear blue?

Amy purses her lips. She looks at Surge, eyes narrowed. Surge pulls her shoulders up even higher, chin tucked down to her chest as she prepares for Amy to scold her—when all at once Amy's face softens and she sighs. "I'm sorry. Were you waiting long?"

Just a little over ten minutes—so forever, basically.

"Like I said," Surge sniffs, "you're late."

Amy smiles indulgently. "Sorry," she repeats. She glances over her shoulder at the cafe. "How about I get you some boba to make up for it? My treat."

Absolutely not. If Surge is going to make Amy forget all about that blue asshole, this date has to be perfect; she can't make Amy pay. And besides, Surge has the entire date planned out. Going to the cafe now would throw off her schedule—and they're already running behind.

"No," Surge says, pushing off the wall. "We're going to the boardwalk first." She starts walking, only to pause when she realizes Amy isn't walking with her. "Come on," she urges, motioning for Amy to follow.

Amy opens her mouth, then closes it with a shrug and falls into step beside Surge.

"So…" Amy starts, after they've been walking in silence for about a minute. Surge can't help but notice even the way she walks is cute, with a bounce in her step that makes the skirt of her dress sway around her legs almost like she's dancing.

…Her stupid blue dress.

Surge presses her lips together tightly and walks faster.

"How, uh." Amy falters at Surge's new tempo, then lengthens her stride to keep up. "How have you been? I feel like it's been a while since I've seen you."

"Fine," Surge says. Her and Kit have been trying to be heroes, following their new routine. "Same old, same old."

Amy makes a meaningless noise. "That's good. What—uh. What about Kit? How is he? I kind of worry about him sometimes."

The fuck? "He's fine," Surge grunts. "Great, even. Couldn't be better."

Amy blinks, clearly taken aback. "Oh, uh." Her eyes dart down to the ground, then back up. "That's great! I'm happy you two are doing well."

They arrive at the entrance to the boardwalk. Amy pauses for a moment, clearly surprised to find a fair going on, the place crawling with people.

Surge doesn't stop. She grabs Amy's wrist and pulls her along as she makes a beeline for a stall selling cotton candy.

"One, large," she tells the vendor. Amy shakes off her surprise in time to add a please on her behalf. The vendor hands Surge a stick with cotton candy larger than her entire head, which Surge passes onto Amy. "Here."

Amy takes it with a slightly wobbly smile. "Thanks." She tears off a piece and places it in her mouth. Her eyes widen and she makes a delighted noise, sucking on the tips of her fingers like she's trying to savor the taste.

Surge stares as her fingers finally leave her mouth, gloves slightly damp.

"It's really good! I wasn't expecting it to be cherry flavored, but it's a nice surprise. Here—" She tears off another piece and holds it out for Surge to take. "Try some."

Surge's stomach tries its hardest to flip inside out. She can't stop looking at Amy's fingers.

After a few seconds of Surge staring in silence, Amy frowns. "Surge? Are you—"

Surge snatches the piece of cotton candy from her and stuffs it into her own mouth. She swallows before it has fully dissolved, barely even tasting it. "You're right," she mutters. "It's good."

They stroll along the boardwalk while Amy eats, stopping at various booths selling handmade crafts. Amy buys a pair of crocheted daisy bag charms, waving off Surge's attempts to pay for them.

"It's fine," she says. "One of them is a gift for Cream; I can't make you pay for that."

Surge sulks until she notices Amy eye a bracelet at another booth. It's a delicate gold chain with a single charm in the shape of a sun hanging off it. Surge looks at the price, winces—then grabs it anyway, ignoring Amy's protests as she hands it to the vendor.

"Surge," Amy whispers, tugging frantically at her sleeve. "What are you doing? Surge, stop that's way too expensive a gift. Seriously—"

"Too late," Surge says, smirking at Amy as the vendor hands her the bracelet in a small decorative bag. "Hold out your arm, I'll put it on for you."

Amy pouts and grumbles, but obediently raises her arm, pulling back her sleeve for Surge to put the bracelet on. For all her complaints, Surge definitely sees her smiling down at it before her sleeve covers it up again.

"I still think you shouldn't have bought this for me," Amy says, tone stern. "But—" She reaches out for Surge's hand, squeezing it gently as her voice softens. "Thank you. It's very sweet."

Surge looks at Amy's hand around hers, then away when she feels her cheeks heat up. "Don't mention it."

"I feel bad, though," Amy says. "You wouldn't let me buy you boba, then you spent all that money on a gift…" She trails off, nose scrunching up as she thinks—then lets go of Surge to ball her hand into a fist, suddenly determined. "Alright, I've got it! Once we see something you want, I'll get it for you."

Her eyes blaze with so much passion, it's a little scary. "You almost make it sound like a threat," Surge jokes.

Amy grins, teeth bared. "Who says it isn't?"

By the time Amy makes good on her promise, the sun is starting to set.

Surge let her guard down for barely a second, allowing her eyes to linger on a plush in the shape of a cloud. It's not even that cute—it's just that it kind of reminds her of Kit, with an exaggeratedly sad face, gray like it's about to start raining.

Amy catches her looking and lights up. She shoves her purse into Surge's hands with a cheerful hold this, then strides over to the strongman game the plush is a prize for.

"One, please!"

The teenager running the game is utterly unimpressed by her enthusiasm. His face remains entirely blank as he accepts the fare and hands her a comically large hammer.

Amy tests the weight of it. She glances over her shoulder at Surge as she lifts the hammer, smiling brightly, then turns back to the game before bringing the hammer down.

The puck shoots up, impacting the bell with a loud, satisfying ding. At the same time, somehow even louder, there's a crack as the wooden handle of the hammer snaps clean in half.

"Oops," Amy says, sheepish. She hands the two pieces to the teenager, whose bored expression has finally been replaced by astonishment—and a little bit of fear. "Sorry."

"It's…" The teen looks down at the broken hammer for a long moment. "It's fine," he finally says, in a tone of voice that says he definitely considers this to be somebody else's problem.

Amy sighs, relieved. "Okay! Then, can I get my prize? I want that one."

Surge feels a little stupid, walking around holding a huge plush, but Amy seems more excited than ever. At some point she grabs hold of Surge's hand to drag her over to a booth displaying an array of crystals and lumpy candles, then just doesn't let go as they continue to walk.

Holding hands is distracting, so Surge doesn't realize it's time for dinner until her stomach growls when they walk by a booth that smells distinctly of fried goods.

"We should eat," Surge says, pulling Amy towards the booth.

"I guess I am sort of hungry," Amy admits. "I was having so much fun, I almost didn't notice."

Surge's stomach makes another valiant attempt to invert itself. The feeling lingers until after they get their food, suppressing whatever hunger initially made her stomach rumble; she nibbles distractedly at their shared portion of fries, trying not to stare at Amy's mouth while she eats.

"Oh, shoot!"

Surge tears her eyes away from Amy's mouth, following her gaze to the sleeve of her cardigan. There's a glob of ketchup on there, the color bleeding into the wool already. Even after Amy wipes it away with a napkin, the fabric is stained orange.

Amy sighs. "I better wash this now, or that stain is never coming out. Watch my stuff?"

Surge nods, obediently keeping an eye on Amy's purse as she heads to the nearest bathroom. She returns a few minutes later, no longer wearing the cardigan. She's holding it in her arms instead, one of the sleeves seemingly entirely soaked through. Her sundress is held up by two thin straps, leaving her arms entirely bare.

The sun set a little over an hour ago, and the temperature has dropped some. It's not exactly chilly, but…

Surge frowns. "Are you cold?"

Amy smiles as she slides back into her seat. "No, I'm okay." The words have barely left her mouth when she shivers. Her smile turns awkward, the expression of somebody caught in a lie.

Surge takes her jacket off and shoves it across the table towards Amy. "Here."

Amy looks at the jacket, then back to Surge. She bites her lip. "I don't want you to be cold either."

"I'll be fine," Surge says. She's wearing a crop top and baggy jeans; all things considered, she's still pretty covered up. "Just put it on."

"…If you're sure." Amy grabs the jacket, pulling it on almost carefully. "Oh," she sighs, pulling the jacket closed around herself, hiding her dress completely. "It's warm."

She ducks her head, nuzzling into the collar. So softly Surge isn't sure she was meant to hear it, she mutters, "Smells like you, too."

Heat blooms in Surge's chest. Even if the temperature drops further, the sight of Amy in her jacket will be more than enough to keep her warm.