Cohost writing prompt: @Making-up-Magical-Girls — Magical Enby Who Sleeps Naked, Unfortunately
"Pisslicking ass," Chitin Captain Coleopter says, throwing that morning's Daily Post onto the table. "Have you seen this? There's a grainy tabloid photo of Hymenopter skulking hand-in-hand into some groupie's shitty apartment after we split up to go home last night."
There's a short silence.
"Well," Mantodea says, peering into her carrot-ginger-turmeric smoothie and prodding the straw into it like a minature gondolier, "it is a pretty shitty apartment, but not actually a groupie. And also not like that."
Coleopter hurriedly claws the newspaper back across the table and stares at it, then at Mantodea.
"You," she says. "You took Hymenopter home?"
"It was not like that," Mantodea says.
Odonata opens her mouth, and subsides when both of the reflexively turn to glare at her.
"No hymen jokes, ever," Coleopter hisses.
"The Slime Devil erupted in the middle of the night," Mantodea says.
"It was not that late for those of us with lives—"
"Middle of the night, Col. I transformed back in a ooze-covered alley in bunny pajamas and bare feet, remember?"
"So, what," Coleopter says. "They didn't want us to laugh at their PJs?" Her face drops. "Oh god, it wasn't fucking ahegao print or some shit—"
"Some people," Mantodea interrupts, "sleep nude."
During the pause, Odonata opens her mouth again, cautiously, then subsides under Coleopter's glare.
"So." Colepter says. "So you took them home. And you expect me to believe that wasn't some ooh, no matter what you've got under your exoskeleton, I want my slobber all over it! thing."
"Did you want this to be a groupie photo, or haha, Chitin Captain secret identity uncovered? Hymenoptera caught entering own house in costume! photo, ho-bag?" Mantodea says levelly. "Or maybe an indecent exposure arrest? Don't be such a fucking dick."
"Fine," Coleopter says. "...Fine, sure, you're right," and stomps out of the room.
"Slobbered all over that, though, right," Odonata says, when she's out of earshot.
"Dude, we've been doing that for six months," Mantodea says irritably, sweeping the tabloid off the table into the trash.