Rating: R (sibling incest, teenagers having sex)
Relationship: Tori/Blake/Hunter, excpet genderswapped so Tony/Blaze/Heather
Summary: Heather was an idiot. Tony was an idiot. And Blaze had to be an idiot, too, if it took her so long to realize just why Heather and Tony couldn't carry so much as polite small talk. What she should do about it wasn't a question. The only question was how.
Notes: genderswap; written as part of the purimgifts exchange (at AO3)
Heather was an idiot. It really wasn't news to Blaze: her big sister was smart and scary competent – plain scary, Tony would argue – but that had nothing to do with being an idiot.
Tony's being an idiot, on the other hand, came as a surprise.
Heather and Tony mixed, well, like electricity and water: not at all well unless one was deliberately courting a large explosion with a risk of serious injury. Blaze loved her sister to pieces, but – no 'but', really: if Heather had been anything else but Heather, anything but Blaze's hot-headed, fanatically dedicated, more than a little possessive sister, than Blaze wouldn't have pulled Heather's head down and mashed their mouths in a kiss so hard their teeth nearly knocked into each other, wouldn't have worked her mouth down Heather's neck, whispering Shut up and let me and I love you, wouldn't have slid her hands underneath Heather's pajamas and between her legs.
That was four years before. Heather had been fifteen, Blaze fourteen; Heather had shaken Blaze awake from a nightmare, her hands on her sister's shoulders, sitting on the side of her bed, and Blaze was old enough to know the look in her sister's eyes for what it was and shaken enough to not care for all the reasons why they shouldn't.
She was Heather's. Always had been, and it took an idiot like Heather to think she could ever not be.
>She hadn't meant to be serious about Tony and, until very recently, she wasn't even sure that she really was. Which was why Heather's jealousy was so strange: Blaze had dated guys before, had only dated guys, because guys were not Heather and guys didn't expect anything and guys were safe.
Tony didn't expect anything, and was kind, and Heather had been hostile to him even back when Blaze had been acting out a honey trap with the guy. Back then Blaze had chalked it up to Tony being their enemy at the time, but then Tony – and Blaze's affection for him, and her supposedly betraying her sister for him – had been what Heather obsessed about when Lothor had fucked her brain.
That had been half a year ago. Not a month after that Blaze's birthday had rolled around, and she discovered she should have realized a month before that, when Tony had only come after her once she'd hurt Dusty: that he wasn't just protective, he was territorial and, given a good enough reason, he could be more than a little jealous. More than a little possessive.
Heather must have seen it from the get-go. Heather didn't share well with others, and certainly not her sister, certainly not her one and only family in the world.
Which was a real problem and why Blaze couldn't really pursue anything with Tony and, mellow surfer whose two best friends were girls or not, Blaze knew that at some point he would call her on her stalling.
Which was why the revelation at Tony's birthday party had stunned her into speechlessness.
Heather was an idiot. Tony was an idiot. And Blaze had to be an idiot, too, if it took her so long to realize just why Heather and Tony couldn't carry so much as polite small talk.
What she should do about it wasn't a question. The only question was how.
The answer presented itself the night of the same day, or, more accurately, the morning of the next. The six of them were out below the cliffs, by the fire, wrapping up Tony's second birthday party. They were also, thanks to Dusty, playing spin-the-bottle, and Blaze had just gotten to dare Tony.
"I'm really fucking tired of you and my sister fighting all the time," she said, with deliberate carelessness, leaning back with her palms against the sand, "so how about you kiss and make up?"
She couldn't see Heather's expression because her sister was sitting right next to her, but she didn't need to look to know that Heather's expression had just went from a frown to completely blank. Across the circle, Tony's face did a similar thing and his entire body clenched in a way that wasn't quite apprehension.
"Dude," said Dusty. She sounded appreciative. "You're either totally crazy or totally brave, I don't know. Or crazy brave," she added thoughtfully. "Or…"
Shea elbowed her. "Or she meant, like, a peck on the cheek."
"No," said Blaze, "I really didn't."
She counted four heartbeats – three whole seconds – before Heather pushed herself up and stepped forward, into the circle and around the fire.
>She held her chin up, and told Tony: "Double-dog dare you."
Silently, Tony stood up.
Blaze had to shift, because she wasn't sure her arms would hold her weight anymore. Her heart was pounding, throat dry, palms sweaty, and she was insanely glad for wearing shorts over her swimsuit because the bottom of her suit was about to get wet and oh, god, she wasn't going to be good for anything tonight regardless of how this turned out.
Anything but what she wanted, which was Heather and Tony and her all at once.
Which was to watch them – both of them tall, both of them well-toned, both of them blond and sun-kissed – and see the darkness in their faces, imagine their pupils blown wide, knowing how Heather felt about guys as tall and strong as Tony and how she always fell to pieces the rare times that Blaze held her down.
Knowing that Tony could read all that in Heather's taut muscles and that he was very likely to deduce – correctly – that Blaze knew. Knowing that he knew what Blaze wanted when he grabbed Heather by her elbows before he leaned down and kissed Heather full on the mouth and oh, god, Blaze had just moaned out loud.
Later that night, with Heather shuddering and swearing and Tony sandwiched, half-mad between them, Blaze would find the ounce of lucidity to think that it was totally worth it.