As usual, people real, story fake. No harm intended, please don't sue. Written for the rpfs_sports prompt challenge.

It begins slowly, almost as if Sue's checking to see whether Barbara's actually paying attention or not. There's a card in her locker, the perfect handwriting a dead giveaway, when she makes it successfully out of training camp. There's a hand on her head, trying and mostly failing to ruffle her hair, when she makes her first basket. There are touches that linger too long, and every once in a while there's a pass that's completely out of character for Sue.

"You do know you're not Diana, right?" she finally says after one game. Sue smiles at her, a hard plastic this-is-who-I-am-have-you-seen-me smile, and Barb gets the distinct sense that she said something really stupid.

"We mark our own," Sue replies after a moment, leaving Barb to wonder exactly what the hell that means until they play New York and Barb recognizes Ashley like a mirror image.

This, then, is what it is to be a Husky, even after the name has come off the front of the jersey and been put onto the back. Every year builds on the last, every generation passes on their habits to the next, like Rebecca's chicken-scratch notes with Sue's elegant additions. It's no wonder Swin occasionally lapses into ugly florals, or that Mika has been known to randomly turn on the heat in mid-summer, or that Diana always ordered fries when they went to the mall. Or, for that matter, that Sue throws passes that Geno screams at almost anyone about trying.

And the generations have to link together somehow, so even though Sue and Barb never played together, they know each other like sisters. Except not like sisters, because it's illegal for sisters to get to know each other this way. Barb bites her tongue against clichés when she sees- really sees, not happens to notice- Sue for the first time, bites her tongue again at the painful, stupid things that Sue thinks woo her.

Somewhere along the line, she remembers laughter and romance, and one of the more unlikely combinations in their extended family. It hits her then, and she realizes that it's not so much that she and Sue are attracted to each other, but that the little bits of Diana that wormed their way into Sue are attracted to the little bits of leftover Ashley in her.

She swears at herself for a while, but the rage passes when Sue wraps her in an embrace, kissing the back of her neck just where it comes up to her jawline. This, too, is what it means to be a Husky, to accept the marks left upon you by those who came before.