It was love, pure and simple and earnest and cosy. The best kind of love, too, because it was the kind of love that didn’t stop them from being best of friends. They geeked out over the same serials, followed the same musicians, ate the same foods with the same incredible gusto. They laughed together, they wept together, they held each other in the dark uncertain nights. And when the morning came they could still smile, or laugh, or -- Celestia forbid -- giggle.
(One was mightily embarrassed of her giggle, the other thought it the most adorable thing she'd ever heard.)