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Yang: The stars are so beautiful...
Winter: They're just giant balls of gas.
Yang: You know what, if you're just going to ruin this, then-
Winter: And yet none of them are as huge as my love for you.
Yang: Oh...
Winter, at Yang's funeral: I need a moment with them.
Everyone: Of course. *They leave*
Winter, leaning over Yang′s coffin: Okay, listen here you little shit. I know you’re not dead.
Yang: Yeah, no shit.
Winter: Ugh, crushes are so dumb.
Yang: I know. Whenever I’m near the person I like I just start acting stupid.
Winter: But you’re always acting stupid?
Yang: ...
Yang: Yeah, don’t think about that too hard.
@texanredrose You made me cry with this one, great work as always!
Part VII
Yang’s eyes shot open as a cry split the night, attempting to roll away from the warm embrace of her wife before strong arms pulled her back in, much to her protest. “Snowdrift-”
“It’s my turn,” Winter replied firmly, rubbing at the sleep in her eyes as she sat up, the wailing from down the hall pushing her to fully alert. “Stay in bed. I’ll attend to her.”
She watched as the woman got out of bed, grabbing a robe they kept at the ready just for situations like these. Winter had returned the day before from an arduous mission in the remote Atlesian north, bereft of the most basic comforts, so Yang had reacted to their child’s cry without a second thought.
“Are you sure?” She fidgeted with the sheet, pulling it up to cover her chest. Her breasts ached a bit, already almost full again despite her using the pump just before bed, and she felt a maternal twinge as the cries continued. “You need your sleep-”
“What I need is to spend some quality time with our daughter.” Winter smiled softly, pride evident in her eyes. The past two months away had worn on her, as evidenced by the enthusiasm with which they’d celebrated her return- though gently, considering Yang still hadn’t fully recovered. Her wife had taken up every duty pertaining to their daughter since she returned, so she really shouldn’t be surprised. “Stay in bed and rest. I’ll warm up a bottle from the fridge.”
Reluctantly, Yang settled back into the sheets- relieved, to some extent, because caring for a four month old alone seemed so much easier in theory- but sleep eluded her as Winter slipped out of the room and down the hall. Zephyr’s cries calmed some and receded as she was carried downstairs to await a warm bottle, which should’ve eased the new mother, but relief turned to restlessness. With her wife and baby not in the room, she found it difficult to remain there herself, tossing and turning as she tried to get comfortable.
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