The air was brisk, the early light through the window cool and soft, because someone forgot to close the curtains all the way when she came in late last night. The tiny flecks of dust that were caught by the light decorated her vision of the most beautiful woman Sloane had ever seen. There slept her wife, arm cushioning her head and body curled in a way that seemed impossibly uncomfortable.
She’d never imagined herself like this, laying in bed with someone who loved her wholeheartedly, not worried about what was to come or what had been, next to the love of her life, waiting for her to catch her staring.
How could she not stare? There Hurley lay, brow furrowed, lips downturned, curled into a ball at her wife’s side as she attempted to make herself as warm as possible. Winter was a hard time for both of them, the sun cold and harsh, the wind biting and forceful. Despite all those things, Sloane could easily take a moment to appreciate the benefits of the season, such as the sight in front of her. For all the love she held, Hurley was rarely a cuddler, chalking it up to being “too restless, babe, I don’t wanna kick you in your sleep”, which Sloane thought was bullshit . If she wanted to hold her wife, Pan be damned she was going to hold her wife.
Or stare at her fondly in the morning light until she opened her eyes. Whichever she felt like doing the most.
A sneeze interrupted her tranquil admiration as Hurley convulsed with it and groggily dragged a hand across her face afterwards. Stretching as far as possible, she pulled the blankets up further and curled closer into Sloane’s midsection, making a half-spoken complaint about how it was just “ too damn bright in here”.
“What a surprise,” Sloane countered fondly, “and here I thought you’d left the curtains open on purpose.”
A groggy smile was breaking across Hurley’s face as she opened her eyes. The two stared at each other warmly, and Sloane reached out a hand under the covers to grab hold of her wife— her wife! —and pull her closer still, wrapping an arm around her and pressing Hurley to her chest in a tight embrace.
“Love you.” She murmured into the intricately woven vines of Hurley’s hair.
“Love you ,” She received in return, as Hurley grumbled the phrase into her chest, “but I can’t breathe.”
Sloane laughed and hugged her even tighter, feeling a giddy warmth spreading in her core, traveling up through where she assumed her heart still was, and manifesting itself into a smile. She could spend all her days like this, she marveled out loud, loving and being loved, content and whole for eternity and beyond that, if there was such a thing. She wouldn’t even need to get out of bed, as long as her whole world was still lying in front of her.
“Oh, sweetheart, I’m your whole world?” Hurley muttered close to her heart, a tentative question that made Sloane beam.
“You’re every plane in existence to me, darling. I hold you in regard equal to the Pantheon. You are my everything .”
This last phrase she spoke with conviction, pouring the feeling behind it through every part of her soul and physical body, in the hopes she could convey just how deeply she meant it. She felt Hurley take a deep breath, relaxing against her as she stretched a small bit.
“ Well , your everything wants to sleep.”
Sloane laughed and reached far enough out of bed to pull the curtains closed, and lay back down to face the world another day. For now, she had everything she needed right here in her arms.