#lexaren

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Walker wakes up with a cold back and warm front and the light of the sun in her eyes, and one arm numb from sleeping with it wedged under Lexa’s shoulders.

She lets out a rusty little groan and spits out a strand of graying ginger hair with a phhhtt. It always gets in her mouth, and for a moment she envies her girlfriend’s short, neat fauxhawk. No way she’s cutting it after this long, though, she muses, and has to reach up awkwardly to stroke the fuzz at the base of Lexa’s skull instead. God dammit, she’s too short for this. Not that short, even, but in this household she’s the one who has to ask for jars off high shelves, and sometimes it’s a little annoying.

(For awhile she’d sneak chairs out of the kitchen to stand on rather than give Phiri a reason to snicker at her, but that stopped the day the chair buckled sideways and only by chance sent her pitching into Phiri’s arms instead of onto the tile floor. The next time she’d needed something from the top shelf Phiri had grunted and handed it to her without a word, and got kissed flustered by both of them for her trouble.)

(Alright, not all annoying.)

Lexa stirs slowly when the sun reaches her eyes, lets out a long low noise. The shadows under her eyes are more pronounced than they’ve been, lately; they never quite go away, but she was up late last night working and Walker’s determined to make sure she has a nice slow morning of it.

Come to think of it she’s not sure Lexa slept at all. She’d wondered if she was dreaming when she cracked her eyes and watched Phiri rising with the sun to close her laptop and put her to bed, but maybe not. She’s had her own late nights, lots of them, so she supposes she’s got no room to judge.

It’s chilly in here. Walker lifts her head to look around for the covers, and lets out a grunt of frustration when she sees them carefully folded at the foot of the bed. Probably on purpose; Phiri has her own ways of getting them out of bed, and Walker is grudgingly respectful of the stealth it takes to steal the blankets off the two of them in their sleep.

She’s grumbling and tugging the covers back over them when Lexa leans down to kiss her temple sleepily, melting away some of the irritation. “Time is it,” she murmurs, voice deep and rough with sleep, and Walker relaxes into it.

“12:36,” she says, squinting over a broad sun-dappled shoulder at the alarm clock on the nightstand, which they keep on Lexa’s side because she’s the least likely to try ripping it out of the wall. “Probably time for some breakfast. Do you smell eggs?”

“Mmh.” Lexa’s eyelashes are long enough to make something flutter in Walker’s throat when they flit over her cheeks, as usual. “Must be Phiri.”

Walker’s eyes widen, and she starts to lever herself up off the bed.

“Shhh,” Lexa groans, tugging her back with long loose fingers around her bony wrist. “I showed her how to do it this time, and she knows where the fire extinguisher is.”

Walker relaxes a little. “Karen, it’s fine,” says Lexa, with a smile she can hear, and Walker relaxes a little more. That’s a name she leaves in this house, nowadays, and even if it’s hard to pick it up again, she’s content to leave it to Lexa for safekeeping.

She leans in to kiss her again, heart liquid and golden in her chest, and Lexa kisses her back with a soft hum and a hand in her long hair.

They’re interrupted by a bark of alarm from the kitchen. “Lexa! Lexa, I require assistance!”