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By the time Aranea gets back to Hammerhead, she’s tired enough that she almost falls asleep waiting for the gate to open. The daemons have been getting stronger as the endless night wears on, and it’s starting to take a toll on everyone. Even the hunters guarding the fence look grim and exhausted, clutching their weapons like they expect a daemon to materialize in the midst of the daemon-repelling lights. She nods to them as she walks by, making a beeline for the diner. She hopes Takka hasn’t shipped out for Lestallum yet.
No such luck. The only people in there are a couple of half-asleep hunters and Gladiolus’ little sister. She almost groans at the sight of her. It’s not that she doesn’t like Iris—she’s rather convinced it’s impossible not to—but she just doesn’t have the energy to deal with the kid right now. Iris is perpetually cheerful, and it can be utterly exhausting when Aranea just wants to sleep.
“Oh, you look beat,” Iris says as Aranea leans her lance against the counter. “Rough night?”
“Ran into a couple red giants on the way back.” Aranea frowns around at the boxes of supplies crowding the room. She’s not a great cook to begin with, but now she doesn’t even know where to start.
Iris makes a sympathetic noise and gestures toward the stools. “Why don’t you sit down? I’ll make you something to eat.”
Aranea hesitates, but before she can say that it isn’t necessary, one of the hunters whines, “You never offer to make me food.”
Iris picks up a chef’s knife and points it at her with a scowl. “Go fight two red giants by yourself. Then we’ll talk food.”
See, this is why she likes Iris. She doesn’t take shit from anyone. Including Aranea.
“And you.” Iris turns back to Aranea and waggles the knife threateningly. She’s too damn cute for it to make Aranea nervous, even though she knows what Iris is capable of. “Sit down. I’m cooking.”
Well, far be it from Aranea to argue a direct order from the Daemon Slayer. She slides onto the stool and laces her fingers together on top of the bar. “Yes, ma’am.”
Iris giggles at her and reaches for the supplies. She seems to know her way around the kitchen well enough, so Aranea lets herself lean on the bar instead of trying to help. Gods, but she would do obscene things for a glass of wine and hot bath.
She’s happy to settle for a handmade meal from Iris, though. It’s not every day Iris is willing to cook for anyone but the Marshal.
It’s even rarer that she stops to eat with people, but once the food’s done, she settles onto the stool next to Aranea’s and presses her for the details of the hunt. Aranea obliges her between mouthfuls, and she’s so focused on the food and the story she completely misses Cindy’s entrance. At least until an arm is tossed over her shoulders and she catches the scent of motor oil and perfume that clings to Cindy’s skin no matter how hot she gets in the garage.
“Hey, doll,” Cindy says, leaning into Aranea’s side. “I see I’ve been passed over in favor of food again.”
Aranea grins up at her. “In my defense, eating you isn’t nearly as filling. Thought I’d build up my energy first.”
Iris snorts with laughter, but Cindy just makes a little tsking noise. “Oh no, sweetheart, you’re getting some sleep first. You look dead on your feet.”
Aranea sighs, but Cindy’s not wrong. If anything, the food is making her feel even more tired. She could probably fall asleep right here and wouldn’t wake up for a solid ten hours. Even if she fell off her seat.
Cindy gives her shoulders a soft squeeze. “I was just getting ready to hit the hay myself when I heard rumors that you were back. Why don’t you come to bed when you’re done talking with Iris?”
“Oh, we can always finish the conversation later!” Iris leans around Aranea to stare at Cindy with imploring eyes. “You should drag her to bed. Or else she’ll go around checking on everyone like she did last time.”
“We definitely don’t want a repeat of that.” Cindy curls some of Aranea’s hair around a finger and gives it a gentle tug. “What do you say, doll? Gonna get some shut-eye with me?”
“I don’t think the two of you are giving me a choice.” Aranea huffs, but she doesn’t really mind them ganging up on her. “Come on, before I change my mind.”
Cindy links her elbow with Aranea’s as they walk across the lot to her little apartment behind the shop. Aranea can’t help feeling a little smug as people watch them. Cindy’s got quite the fan club among the hunters in these parts, and she’s never given any of them the time of day.
The apartment is tiny and a bit cramped, but it feels strangely cavernous without Cid there to make unsubtle threats about what he’ll do if Aranea breaks his precious granddaughter’s heart. Not that he doesn’t make enough threats when Aranea stops by to bother him in Lestallum.
Getting ready for bed together still feels familiar even though they don’t spend as much time with each other as they’d like. Aranea finishes up first, not having the energy to linger, and she flops onto the bed without bothering to put pajamas on. After spending weeks sleeping in her ship and havens, the mattress feels almost sinfully soft. And it smells like Cindy, which is even better.
“You gonna let me join you?” Cindy asks as she turns off the light. “Or should I go be lonely on the couch?”
Aranea groans, but she rolls onto her side. Cindy slides under the covers behind her, curling around Aranea with a content little sigh. “I’m glad you’re back,” she says, pressing her lips to the back of Aranea’s neck. “Wish you could stop by more often.”
Aranea reaches for Cindy’s hand and pulls it up to her lips for a kiss. “We can make up for lost time in the morning,” she says. “And when the sun rises again, I’ll stick around as long as you want.”
Cindy curls around her more closely, and Aranea can feel her lips curl up in a smile against her neck. “No, you won’t.” She doesn’t even sound upset when she says that. “You like traveling and fighting too much.”
“Maybe.” Aranea thinks about how tired she is every time she comes home. How much longer the pain lingers after every fight. How Cindy’s firm insistence on taking care of her makes everything hurt less. Sometimes it’s all enough to make her wish she had never picked up this life. “But I think I like you more.”