Work Text:
Sabrina folds over the top of the bumper car and for a second Zoe thinks her girlfriend is crying before she starts chortling in between breathless, hysterical shaking.
“You don’t–you’ve never–what do you mean she–”
“It’s true!”
“I mean that’s–certainly one way to do mother-daughter bonding-”
“Thankfully, the purse didn’t hit the guy. We were very politely asked to leave, though.”
“God, this reminds me of the time when–when,” she pauses, just for a moment, but then continues, and Zoe’s so proud of her she bites her tongue so she doesn't say so, “Chloe and I went to the Atelier des Lumières for my birthday, but there were so many people - it was a Klimt exhibition - that she got mad while trying to stop them from moving so we could see, and then we got kicked out despite name-dropping her dad.”
The sunlight makes her hair go nearly golden where it hits it. “She made it up to me with ice cream, though.”
“My mom bought dinner,” Zoe says, stepping out of the bumper car and giving Sabrina a hand. “Took me to my favourite seafood place, too.”
She doesn’t let go once Sabrina’s stepped out of her car, and the two walk away from the attraction, arms swaying between them.
“Speaking of, what do you want for lunch?”
Sabrina smiles at her. Zoe squeezes her hand in tandem with her heart. “Pizza? Yeah, pizza’s good.”
“Alright.”
Pizza it is.
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