our house (is a very, very, very fine house)
pairing: barb ann x chronically ill female reader.
warnings: mentions of brooke and mentions of jim.
a/n: my first try at this!!! just wanted to write something super sweet and domestic with barb and my friend has chronic pain and obviously loves barb so i had to indulge her!!! 💋💋
you never expected to be in a relationship with a rockstar, much less to be in a relationship with barbara ann robinson herself. even more impossible, you never expected she’d absolutely adore you.
you try to take it nice and slow, but dating a celebrity with a well documented life is frightening. people disregard you by saying she could never love again after brooke and, obviously, there’s her husband.
so you just try to make the best out of every moment together. if it ever ends, at least you will have the memories of slow dancing in the kitchen and being serenaded by her.
you two have a nice relationship, but you know it’s serious when she starts looking for a place for you two to share. barbara loves her ranch, but she also loves you, and she wants you two to build something of your own together.
it’s scary, but she never settles on anything without thinking twice, so you are sure it’s serious.
you've never wanted anything more than you've wanted this. you are moving in together.
the house slowly becomes more and more like you two. a mix of pastel and beige tones and flowers everywhere, your crochet needles on the couch, her books on the windowsill. you couldn’t think of a better life.
some of your favorite moments together are in the bathtub. when you come home from work, she makes sure to already be there so she can spoil you.
she runs a nice bath so you can be together after such a long day. it's one of the few exigences she had for your life together: a huge bathtub for you two to share.
doesn't matter how terrible your day at work was or how unbearable your pain is, when you get home and find barbara waiting for you, everything seems easier.
today you find her not in the bathtub, but still in bed, taking a nap. barb is so strong and authentic that you forget that, deep down, she's also an old lady. her history is one of the things you love about her.
you watch her for a few moments when she wakes up, smiling at you. "you are home already or i overslept?"
"sorry to wake you up, dear. did you have a busy day?"
she sits down, planting a kiss on your cheek. "actually, yes. i am writing a new song. i might show it to you later. did you?"
you love that barbara feels comfortable enough to play the songs she writes around you. she can be sensitive about it from time to time, but you savour the pleasure of getting a private concert from her for you only when so many other people would love having the opportunity.
"i did, but i feel better now that i am home."
she promptly takes her house dress off and starts to take off your clothes, kissing every inch of exposed skin she finds. when she gets to your hands, she abruptly leaves the room. "your drops! let me get them."
you take your medicine already in the bathtub, watching in awe as she joins you in the water. maybe you will never get used to it, but you are definitely not complaining.
you are both in a quiet mood tonight. you are waiting for the medicine to hit, and by the way she keeps humming, she is still stuck on the piano, playing her song. being with someone who is not afraid of being in silence with you is one of your favorite things in your relationship.
"turn around, let me take care of your hair."
her touch is healing in many ways. the combination of her fingers massaging your scalp and the medicine is almost enough to put you to sleep, and you are sure she wouldn't mind, but you want to say with her for a little longer.
she kisses the top of your head to show you she's done. you'd love to do the same for her, appreciate the long hair she's been keeping and taking care of for long than you've been alive, but your hands...
"are you feeling any better, baby?"
"yes, barbie. today was tough, for some reason."
she makes you turn around again so she can take your hands and kiss them, more than happy to listen to you babbling about your coworkers and to complain about them. you close your eyes to take in how she massages your hands, thinking how to tell her the big news.
"there's something weird on my chest."
she immediately stops the massage. you keep your eyes closed to not see her worried expression. "did you go to the doctor?"
"going to make an appointment. but don't worry. it's probably just my super inflamed body acting up." you try to joke about it, but there's no laughter.
you let her take a look at that new inflammation, feeling her hands caressing the spot as delicately as she could. well, there's a reason she was a nurse once.
she knows it's not nearly enough, but you put your forehead on hers, glad you are together. "yes, baby."
