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“FUCK.”
Bette’s loud exclamation interrupted a heavy nap that Tina hadn't intended to take. She'd been enjoying a relaxed Saturday at home, reading a book, and had closed her eyes just “to rest them” but had fallen quickly into a deep sleep.
Until now.
In the fog between sleep and wakefulness, she reached her arm out to where Bette had been sitting next to her, only to be disappointed to find an empty space.
“What the…?” Tina muttered as she sat up, looking around for Bette, who had been lounging with her just thirty minutes ago. “Are you okay, Bette?”
Several moments of silence passed.
“I'm fine!” came Bette’s eventual reply, her voice carrying loudly through into the lounge. Tina realised the brunette must be in her office.
“So much for a restful afternoon,” grumbled the blonde.
Tina couldn’t remember closing her eyes, but it had been the soft scratch of Bette’s fingertips across her scalp that had lulled her into sleep. It worked like a charm every time, Tina purring like a cat, and Bette smiling to herself that only her hands could have this effect on her wife. Tina assumed that Bette would also try to indulge in an unscheduled nap, but clearly, that hadn't happened.
In the hallway, Tina checked her hair in the mirror and smoothed out the frizziness before following the sound of Bette's expletives.
“What on earth…?”
Bette was sat cross legged in the middle of her office with boxes, frames, prints, and various detritus surrounding her.
“Hey, T,” she smiled meekly at Tina.
Tina looked around at the mess. “I thought we were reading together, but it looks like you had other ideas.”
“You fell asleep.”
“I figured you would fall asleep with me,” Tina challenged gently.
“I tried,” Bette shrugged, “but I couldn't sleep. I decided to get started on a little spring cleaning.”
Tina laughed. “No offence, baby, but it looks more like you're trying to destroy the place.”
Bette huffed. “I know, I got carried away. I hadn't realised just how much stuff I had shipped from LA and I can't decide what to keep, what to give away, what to sell…”
Tina nodded as her hand reached down for Bette’s shoulder and rubbed her upper back.
“You don't have to sell or give away any of it if you don’t want to.”
“It's taking up so much room, though,” Bette complained. “I feel like I'm taking over your space again.”
That comment gave Tina pause for thought.
“Is that what this is about? You think you're taking up too much space?” Tina asked. Bette didn't immediately reply. “Baby, you can take as much space up as you like. I want you to take up space.”
Bette smiled but it didn’t reach her eyes. “Really?”
“Oh Bette,” Tina said as she knelt down alongside her wife. “This is our home now. Yours and mine. You don't have to throw anything out.”
“I wouldn't have minded,” Bette hesitated. “There's bound to be buyers for some of these pieces.”
“That's not the point. It was about making space for you. And all your stuff,” Tina chuckled. “Do you remember what I said when we got married?”
“Which bit?”
Tina beamed and reached out to tuck an errant curl behind Bette's ear.
“I told you I love all parts. And,” Tina continued as she waved a hand to gesture at all of Bette's belongings, “that means all your stuff too.”
“Are you sure?”
Tina nodded. Bette's frown slowly faded as she leaned into her wife's touch.
“I love you, T.”
“I love you too, baby,” Tina grinned, “but what was all the shouting for anyway?”
“Oh,” Bette winced as she rolled up her sleeve to show off a newly-formed bruise that had blossomed purple across her forearm. “I had a fight with the Basquiat.”
“Owch,” said Tina as she took Bette's arm into her hand and grimaced at the bruise. “Now I’m awake, maybe I should help you put up the Basquiat.”
“Yes, please.”
“But first,” Tina said as she looked again closely at the bruise and ran her finger across it. “I know what will fix this.”
“You can't fix a bruise, Tina,” Bette smiled quizzically.
“Hmm, I think I can. In fact, I have some ideas about alternative healing that I'm sure will help,” Tina assured. “Let me see if I can kiss it better.”