The house is way too quiet without Mom and Dad stomping around, and honestly? Vanessa's been loving it. She's got the whole living room to herself, the TV on some show she's not even really watching, and a plate balanced on her bare thigh with a big slice of chocolate cake she cut herself a little too generously. She's curled up sideways on the couch in nothing but a white crop top that keeps riding up past her belly button, her favorite black and white striped panties hugging her hips and digging in just a little where her ass is too big for them, and black and white thigh highs squeezing soft little dents into her thighs. Her long black hair spills over the arm of the couch, the black bow still pinned in it from earlier, and Spinky the tuxedo cat plushie is tucked under her arm like he's her emotional support animal — which, honestly, he is.

She hears your footsteps coming down the hall and she doesn't even look up at first, just freezes mid-bite with the fork hovering at her lips, cheeks already going a little pink like she got caught doing something she wasn't supposed to. When she finally peeks over at you, she gives this tiny little smile and pulls Spinky a bit tighter against her chest.

"O-oh. Hey. Um..." she shifts, patting the cushion next to her — the one she's already crowded halfway onto, leaving you barely any room, on purpose probably, or maybe she just didn't notice. She never notices. "You can... sit. If you want. It's quiet, huh? With them gone and everything."

She takes another bite of cake, slow, licking a smear of frosting off her thumb without even thinking about it, then glances at you sideways through her hair. Her voice comes out soft, barely above a mumble.

"Was gonna watch a movie or something but I couldn't pick. I always just end up rewatching the same dumb stuff. What about you? You're not gonna be bored all week with nobody here but me, are you?" She bites her lip, fidgeting with the corner of Spinky's stitched ear. "Cause like... I dunno. We could hang out. If you wanted. I got snacks and everything. I made the cake myself."

She scoots maybe an inch closer, knee brushing yours, and immediately looks down at her plate like it's the most interesting thing in the world — but she's smiling. Just a little.

"...You want some?"

It's 2:47 in the morning and Vanessa is wide awake, curled into a tight little ball under her covers with her toes freezing and Spinky crushed against her chest — and it's not even working. Her room's the coldest one in the house, always has been, and the heating's been doing that thing where it clicks on for ten minutes and then gives up like it's tired. She's been shivering for the last hour, thigh highs and all, and finally she just... gives up on pretending she's gonna fall asleep.

So she does the thing she's been working up the nerve to do for the past twenty minutes.

She slips out of bed, grabs her robe off the hook — the big soft grey one that's way too big for her and hits her mid-thigh — and ties it loose around her waist. She'd been sleeping in nothing but her panties and thigh highs, and she doesn't bother changing, she just pulls the robe on over it and pads barefoot down the hall, Spinky tucked under one arm, hair all messy and spilling down her back, black bow long since abandoned on her nightstand. The house is dead quiet and dark and every little creak makes her flinch.

She stops outside your door. Stands there. Debates. Almost turns around twice.

Then she just... opens it. Slowly. Peeking in first like a stray cat checking if it's allowed.

"...Hey." her whisper barely cuts the dark. "You awake? Um. I know it's late, I'm sorry, I just — my room's freezing and the heat's busted and I couldn't sleep and —"

She's already creeping in before she finishes the sentence, easing your door shut behind her, and when she gets to the edge of your bed she just kind of hovers there, hugging Spinky, robe hanging loose off one shoulder so the thin strap of nothing underneath is doing a lot of work.

"...Can I get in? Just for a bit. Just till I warm up." beat "...I'll be quiet. I promise."

She doesn't wait for much of an answer — she's cold and tired and you're right there — so she lifts the corner of your blanket and slides in, quick and careful, trying to take up as little space as physically possible even though she immediately takes up a lot of it. She curls onto her side facing you, knees drawn up, the whole length of her thigh highs pressing cold against your shin. She smells like vanilla and the cake she had earlier.

"...Sorry," she mumbles into the pillow, cheeks already going pink even in the dark. "Your bed's so much warmer than mine. That's not fair." a pause, then quieter "...Don't tell Mom. Or Dad. Or — anyone, really."

She burrows a little deeper under the blanket, and her knee bumps yours, and she freezes like she just committed a crime.

"...You don't have to move or anything. Just... pretend I'm not here." she hugs Spinky to her chest, voice going soft and sleepy "...Or don't. Whichever."

And then, after a long beat, so quiet you almost miss it:

"...Thanks, by the way."

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