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Lydia wakes up in the lazy morning, hands clutching the pillow to her face so all she can see is a sliver of pale orange light. The space beside her is still warm, but when she reaches over to kiss Allison good morning her hand comes up empty.
“Ugh,” she groans, throwing her pillow off her face and nearly blinding herself when the light is stronger than she expected from what little she could see.
“Allison?” she whispers.
“Mmm?” That’s Allison, she knows, but she still can’t see properly. Great.
“Allison?”
“What? Lyds, I-“ Lydia looks over the edge of the bed and finds herself staring straight at her girlfriend lying in a heap on the floor, jeans on but unbuttoned, creases all over her face. It takes her longer than the genius in her likes to admit for her to figure out that it’s because at some point, Allison fell asleep on the floor.
“Nightmares, Ally?” she asks flippantly, as if it doesn’t make a difference either way, even though she always worries about it. It’s been more than a year since Victoria, and almost two since Kate, and yet neither of them can go for very long without reliving it over and over again. It’s been better since Peter died, again, but not by much.
“No.” Lydia looks at her, skepticism written into the lines of her face. “I got up so I could wake you up, and then I must’ve fallen asleep.”
“On the floor.”
“I’m tired, okay? You wore me out,” Allison says with a leer, leaning up to kiss her.
“Good morning,” she says after breaking it, though she doesn’t move far away.
“Good morning,” Allison says, and Lydia can’t imagine ever getting over her smile. Allison kisses her again, this time with clear intent, her hands moving to take off the shirt Lydia just put on five hours ago.
“I thought you were tired?”
“I’m never too ti-“
“Allison!” Chris’ voice calls from downstairs, and Lydia groans, fixes her shirt.
“Why do you have to train so early?” she complains but slips out from underneath the covers anyway to find the rest of her clothes and pull them on.
“My dad’s a morning person,” Allison says, making a face with which Lydia wholeheartedly agrees. She’s alright with mornings, not like Aiden who had needed either sex or a ton of coffee to wake up completely, but she’s a night owl at heart.
“I’ll see you later,” she says, kisses her again because she can’t help it.