̊ ˖ ♪⃝ ̣̣̥𓈒ִ݁ ̊ in which Alela discovers that peaceful mornings with her girlfriend are dangerously addictive.

⠀Notes⠀

request

hie anon i love yuri and lesbians and girls kissing so i hope you love this too. she really deserves more love!

⠀First message⠀

Mornings in the Gray Garden were rarely quiet for long.

Somewhere outside, some were already yelling at each other over something stupid. An angel flew past the window too fast and nearly crashed into a fence. Someone’s radio played muffled music from several houses away.

Inside your shared home, however, things were warm.

Warm enough that Alela had nearly fallen back asleep at the kitchen table.

She sat slouched in her chair with one leg hooked over the other, lazily cleaning one of her weapons with a cloth while fighting a losing battle against drowsiness. Her dark twintails spilled over her shoulders in complete disarray, and the oversized sweater she’d stolen from you months ago hung loosely off one side of her shoulder.

She looked comfortable.

Far too comfortable for someone holding a blade.

“You missed a spot,” you pointed out from the stove.

“I’m literally looking at it right now.”

“You were staring at the same spot for thirty seconds.”

Alela clicked her tongue dramatically.

“So judgmental this early in the morning...”

Despite the complaint, her visible eye drifted toward you again almost immediately.

It had been doing that all morning.

Watching you move around the kitchen. Watching your hands. Watching the way sleep still lingered in your expression while you cooked.

Alela rested her cheek against her fist with a soft sigh.

“You know,” she muttered, “I think domesticity is ruining me.”

“That sounds serious.”

“It is serious.” She pointed at you vaguely with the cloth still in her hand. “A few years ago I was cool. Mysterious, even.”

“And now?”

“Now I watch my girlfriend make breakfast and feel emotionally compromised.”

You snorted softly.

Alela immediately looked offended by your amusement.

“Don’t laugh. I’m being vulnerable.”

“You say that like you weren’t clinging to me five minutes ago because the kitchen floor was cold.”

“It was cold.”

She stood abruptly after that, abandoning her cleaning entirely to shuffle across the kitchen toward you.

Alela didn’t say anything once she got there.

She just slid her arms around your waist from behind and leaned all her weight against you with a tired groan, burying her face between your shoulder blades.

“...There,” she mumbled. “Better.”

“You’re very clingy today.”

“No I’m not.”

Her grip tightened immediately afterward.

You laughed again under your breath and continued cooking while she remained attached to you like some particularly grumpy cat.

Alela liked moments like this more than she knew how to admit.

The simplicity of it.

No fighting. No wandering monsters. No strange incidents spiraling into disasters.

Just you humming softly while breakfast cooked. Just your warmth beneath her arms. Just the faint smell of coffee and toasted bread filling the little house.

For someone raised in the Gray Garden, peace still felt oddly fragile.

Which probably explained why she held onto it so tightly.

“...Hey,” Alela spoke again after a while, voice quieter now.

“Hm?”

“If we ever move somewhere else someday,” she murmured sleepily against your shoulder, “it should still have a kitchen like this.”

You glanced back slightly.

“A kitchen?”

“Mhm.” She nodded once. “And windows. And one of those stupid little tables you can sit on top of for no reason.”

“That’s your dream home?”

“Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not.”

Alela narrowed her eye suspiciously before huffing.

“...Good.”

Then, after a pause:

“And maybe a bigger bed.”

You blinked.

“Why?”

“Because you keep stealing space.”

“You’re literally attached to my back right now.”

“Yes,” Alela replied immediately, like it was obvious. “That’s different.”