Part 1 of 2 (probably). Apologies in advance.

Title from the Owl City song. Fair warning: that's roughly the level of sophistication at which this fic is operating.

"Did you hear what Winifred said in social policy yesterday?" Trixie asks, perched on the kitchen table, drinking something Patsy can barely identify as a banana daiquiri.

"I think I slept through that seminar," Barbara admits. It is certainly believable, as it is 2pm and she is still in her penguin onesie.

"About the rights of businesses to refuse service to people?" asks Delia.

"That's it. I think," Trixie whispers, leaning in, "she's a bit homophobic."

Patsy has been at university for little over a month, and is still settling in. She had started term with the intention of focusing on her studies and not concerning herself with the social side of things, but the girls on her corridor have sort of dragged her out anyway. There are six of them on the corridor in N-block: Patsy, Trixie, Delia, Barbara, Cynthia and Winifred, and Patsy is still getting used to sharing her living space, especially with such a colourful group.

It is Wednesday afternoon, and she, Trixie, Barbara and Delia have the afternoon free, which has become a routine of hanging out in the kitchen, before moving to one of the university bars. Patsy has tried on several occasions to beg off, but the combined forces of Barbara, Delia and Trixie are, Patsy is learning, hard to resist.

"What if we pretended to be lesbians?" Trixie says suddenly, delighted at the prospect of a scheme.

"I'm pretty sure that's homophobic in itself, Trix," Barbara says.

"I'm sure it's allowed if it's teaching someone a lesson."

"Hasn't she – haven't we all – seen you making out with Tom in the bar?"

"Oh, I suppose you're right. How thoughtless of me."

"I'll do it." Delia volunteers, "she definitely hasn't seen me macking on any of the boys."

"Oh, excellent!" Trixie says, "we'll need to find you a girlfriend, though. You know, to make it convincing."

Patsy's eyes widen in panic as Trixie looks directly at her, "how about you, Patsy? I think you'd make a marvellous lesbian."

Patsy instantly regrets this morning's choice of checked shirt. "I- I don't-"

"Oh go on; just to teach Winifred an important life lesson?"

"It'll just be a laugh, Patsy," Delia says with a wink. The wink makes Patsy's stomach flip. This is such a bad idea.

"Oh, all right then."

The afternoon continues as normal, except when Winifred and Cynthia come back from their comparative religion class, Patsy and Delia are sitting much closer together at the table than usual. Nobody says anything. This is what Trixie (whom Patsy feels has probably watched too many spy films) refers to as "the long game".

When they eventually decamp to the bar, things continue to be more or less the same, except Delia is more physically affectionate; touching her hair, leaning into her as they sit together on one of the sofas at the back. Patsy decides that the situation is quite agreeable; she can do this, especially if it's for a good cause.

"Can I get you another drink, sweetheart?" From anyone else, the endearment would sound ridiculous, but in a playful Welsh lilt it is perfect.

"You bought the last round, it's my turn," Patsy says, getting up to queue at the bar.

"Oh, you are good," Delia smiles; she is wearing her hair down this evening, her features framed beautifully. As she waits at the bar, Patsy idly looks around the room and can't see anyone she'd rather be in a fake relationship with.

It is only when Delia kisses her cheek at the end of the night, as they all head back to their rooms, that she considers maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all.

"Weekeeeend!" Barbara cheers, dropping her textbooks onto the kitchen table, where they will remain until Sunday evening. "Where's Cynthia?"

"She's gone home for the weekend, remember?" Winifred says, putting on the kettle, "would anyone like tea?"

"I'm way ahead of you," Trixie says, holding up a glass of prosecco.

"Yes please," Patsy says, sitting next to Delia at the table. Delia casually takes her hand and Patsy (probably? maybe?) plays it cool.

"There's a barbecue on this evening, by the Christian Union if anyone's interested," Winifred offers.

"I'm going to an Amnesty meeting at 6," Barbara says, "but if there's time after I'll come along."

"What about you Patsy; Delia?" Winifred asks, handing out tea.

"Patsy and Delia are actually going out on a date tonight," Trixie announces with glee.

"That's right," Delia says, stroking Patsy's hand. Patsy stares at the wall across the room and hopes she is convincing.

It is fortunate that Trixie waited until Winifred had distributed the tea before making her announcement, because, by the look on her face, there would otherwise be smashed mugs everywhere. "A date together?"

"That's the idea, yes," Delia says.

"I... see. I've got to go." Winifred flees the room, to Trixie's cackling laughter.

"We'll see you later, then!" Delia calls after her.

Winifred doesn't return, and eventually Barbara leaves for her Amnesty meeting, and Trixie heads off to an organised mixer, leaving Patsy and Delia in the kitchen.

"Right, I'll let you get on, then-" Patsy starts.

"What about our date?"

"But- We were just-"

"Oh, I know it's all pretend, but I'm not giving up my evening off for a pretense. We should go out somewhere. After all, what if Winifred comes back and finds us studying in separate rooms?"

She takes a moment to appreciate Delia, looking at her expectantly, made up and ready to go out in an extremely fetching tea dress. Patsy is powerless to resist. "I suppose you're right."

"Where would you like to go?"

Patsy flounders, unable to think of anywhere that's like - but not - a date.

Delia takes pity on her. "How about dinner and a movie? My treat."

Patsy can feel herself blush. "That sounds lovely."

Carol.

Delia chose Carol.

Patsy supposes that it saves her the trouble of coming up up with something plausibly lesbianish when they inevitably get asked what they did on their date because going to see Carol is the most lesbian date in the world.

The only thing that stops her from calling an end to the evening and rushing home and burying herself in anthropology textbooks is that dinner was lovely.

Really lovely.

Not so romantic as to be cheesy, the Italian restaurant was charming, and Delia doubly so, asking about her week, her studies, her plans for Christmas break. The conversation flowed easily and Delia had seemed genuinely interested.

As the lights go down, Patsy almost expects Delia to take her hand. It feels like the natural thing for her to do, at least from Patsy's knowledge of how these dates go (granted, this knowledge is from American movies and television that Patsy categorically denies ever enjoying). But nothing.

Of course, it really makes sense. Despite the pretense, it's not a date, and there's certainly nobody they need to convince in the cinema, so why would they hold hands?

It would be nice, though, Patsy thinks. If Delia took her hand, she would definitely blush, but wouldn't protest.

Patsy briefly entertains the idea of taking Delia's hand, but immediately discards it; the last thing she wants is to scare Delia off. She puts her hands in her lap.

She moves them to the armrest during the sex scene, and is incredibly aware of Delia sitting right next to her. She wants to look at Delia, see what her response is, but can't quite bring herself to.

She clenches her thighs together and hopes Delia doesn't notice.

Their timing couldn't be better, and they arrive back in N-block at the same time Barbara and Winifred return from their social. Delia sees them and looks at Patsy.

"Should we-?" Delia whispers.

"If you want-"

Delia has to stand on tiptoes as she kisses Patsy on the mouth, hands cradling her face. Patsy is too surprised to do much of anything. The kiss lasts a matter of seconds, and Delia pulls back to see their friends' expressions.

Winifred and Barbara both stare for a moment (Barbara a little appreciatively, Winifred in horror), then head into their rooms.

Delia has a silly grin on her face. "I hope that was all right; I couldn't resist."

"No, not at all. No, it was- it was fine."

"Maybe we should do it again sometime."

Patsy knows her face is as red as her hair. "Maybe we should. You know, to make it look convincing."