Whistle for Your Giant

Traveling by teleportation was always disorienting for Mila. It wasn’t too often she had to, she only rarely traveled to the [sizeshifters’] floating islands.

And so cold! She’d forgotten how cold the climate could be above. She pulled her overcoat close, though it didn’t achieve much. As much as she loved her coat, it was better at making her look like her favorite character on her favorite show, and less good at actually being warm.

Ah, well, she thought. At least Nora would be warm, tucked into the crook of her neck. Her fingers drifted upward to check on them—

And suddenly she felt much colder than any amount of snow and chilling wind could ever make her. Nora wasn’t there. Not entirely unexpected, sometimes the teleportation set them in somewhat different locations.

Mila fought against the panicked instinct to whirl around, combing everywhere around for her partner. She knew from experience that would only make her titanic, flailing limbs a terrible hazard for Nora. Unless she knew exactly where Nora was, they both had long ago agreed that Mila was to stay as still as she could.

With one exception. She raised her arm, ever so slightly, to find the necklace she always wore when she [size shifted] and the attached whistle. She brought it to her lips.

#

Cold-cold-cold-cold—

Nora enjoyed the cold, but not so much when they were surrounded by a frigid wet vortex. They’d experienced snow on the floating islands before and it had always been an overwhelming experience, surrounded by the crystalline, enlarged structures. But even then, they had always been able to see it from a distance and approach as they chose.

The teleportation dumped them into the sheer, icy bundle without warning. One moment, they had been sitting tucked under Mila’s chin, the next, every ounce of warmth disappeared entirely, and with it their mental space for rational analysis.

Nora breathed a sigh of relief when they heard the shrill chirp of Mila’s whistle.  They pulled their own whistle from around their neck and spit several bursts of air into it. Shadows and sunlight above them shifted. As the two of them had practiced, Mila descended slowly. At first, all Nora could see was the seemingly autonomous movement of a mountain. She kept her legs and feet still, an accord they’d come to long ago, just as Nora agreed not to move unless they were in imminent danger, before the two of them could make eye contact.

Finally, Mila’s face crested the horizon. The way her face broke into a blazing smile evaporated the cold almost all on its own. She stretched her arm until her hand was just in front of Nora, her eyebrows creased in a silent question, which Nora answered with a brief nod, then hurriedly hopped aboard Mila’s cupped palm.

A slight twitch of Mila’s thumb told Nora she wanted to hold them, so they squeezed her thumb, silently accepting the request. Her thumb settled over Nora, exercising a soft but consistent pressure. Mila was normally so reluctant to hold Nora down, they could only guess she was panicking after realizing the teleportation separated the two. For now, Nora wrapped her arms around Mila’s thumb, hungry for the abundant warmth of the currently gigantic [size shifter].

“I’m okay,” said Nora, once they were close enough that Mila could hear them.

“You are?” came Mila’s desperate question. “Can I hug you?”

“Of course.” They couldn’t help but chuckle. “And yeah, I’m fine, just cold—oh!”

Mila brought them right up to her chest, just under her overcoat, pressing them tightly into the white dress shirt underneath. Nora sighed softly, her nostrils flaring as the crispy, citrus scent of Mila’s detergent, mixed with her sweeter and lighter perfume, surrounded them.

“Yeah, stay like this,” they said. “Warm everywhere up here.”

Mila obliged, holding them silently. The silence lasted a few moments, until Mila’s voice came again, breathy and cracked and watery, “I was so scared. What if I couldn’t find you?”

Nora caught the hint. “Do you need reassurance right now?”

A pause, then, “Please.”

They began to squeeze out of Mila’s grasp, slowly but insistently. A low whine escaped Mila, but the pressure released, so that Nora managed to pull themselves up, their feet scrambling over her fingers, step by step onto the dress shirt, then onto one of the many ruffles of the cravat Mila wore around her neck. The cravat took Nora right to Mila’s shoulder, where they settled themselves.

Nora suppressed a snort. It was a mild annoyance that, even standing on Mila’s shoulder, the highest extent of their reach remained just below her eyes, which shined now with tears. With a grunt, they pulled themselves onto the top hem of the overcoat’s flared collar. That added enough height, allowing them to look each other in the eye.

They noted the shadow of her hand fall from above and around them, without touching, hovering nearby in case Nora should slip. In the shade of Mila’s protection, Nora pressing their lips onto her eye and kissed away their girlfriend’s tears. She made a soft chirp upon contact.

Nora pulled away, leaning against Mila’s cheek. “I’m okay, mihija,” they said. “I would have figured something out if you hadn’t found me.”

“But…”

Nora waited for a response. Mila sputtered for a bit, then fell silent. She looked at them and then away in that uncertain way that Nora knew well. So they resumed.

“You would have done what you could,” said Nora.

They nuzzled their forehead against her cheek. Mila’s eye came back to them, creased with affection.

“I would have done what I could.”

They nudged themselves upward, and kissed her eyelashes.

“And we would have found each other in the middle.”

It was cold, exposed atop Mila’s coat, and only more so as they became covered in Mila’s chilly tears. That awareness had slid into the back of Nora’s mind, but now it returned to the front of their mind, as Mila’s face warmed with a blush.

“That’s what we did,” finished Nora. “And that’s what we’ll do every time.”

They adjusted their position, as the muscles of her face under them shifted. A smile. The hand around them twitched. Nora threw themselves backward, pulled into a swerve as the hand surged forward.

“Alright then,” said Mila, as she pressed Nora into the crook of her neck.