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You emerge from the kitchen, mugs in hand, moccasins on your shuffling feet and can't help but laugh at the scene that has unfolded before you. Their faces are pressed firmly to the frosted window pane, warm breaths haloing around their noses and mouths as they exchange looks with each other with the wonder of what's beyond the glass and beyond the warmth of inside.
The mugs are filled to the brim with their favorites, peppermint tea and hot chocolate spiked with just a dash of whiskey, Waverly's favorite mug too because of course, bag of marshmallows tucked gently under your arm. The marshmallows aren't for eating and you're well aware that there will be a mess to clean up later as they'll inevitably end up throwing them all over the room at each other. Which will eventually lead into a less than skillful attempt at trying to catch them in their mouths from furthering distances like a couple of teenagers. Waverly complains about the mess, but secretly loves the game and togetherness too much to ever protest out loud to Wynonna.
You've taken on the cleaning duties on nights together like this so she can just be... a sister again.
"Nicole! Look!" It's cute that Wynonna wants to involve you, wants you to be part of their sisterhood, even though there are only two windows and after eighteen months, three weeks, and four days of freezing solitude, you're less than interested in any sort of extracurricular cold activities. Wynonna has taken to drawing dick shaped guns, her favorite form of window art and you don't need the quick glance to your right to tell you that Waverly is probably tracing your initials inside of a heart. You clear your throat and give her a full dimpled smile as she turns quickly, caught and flushing a little as she shrugs with a sheepish grin at being so lame but also so fucking cute.
Because she is.
She quickly switches designs, satisfied with the flourished heart, trying to replicate the snowflake patterns as they stick to the windows, her tongue sticking adorably from her mouth as Wynonna now attempts to draw little cowboy hats, mocking Doc's drawl under her breath as she does so. "Did you know that the colder it is outside, the more simplistic the patterns of the snowflakes become?"
You did know that, she tells you every year, and you hum your fascination anyway, walking over to hand her the tea and squat down to press a lingering kiss to the crown of her head. She reaches for you as she always does, turning to press a more deliberate kiss to your lips and smiles in the effortlessness of this love.
You can see Wynonna pull away from the window, eyes to the side watching the exchange of affection with a gentle tilt of her head as she watches you both. There's always just a tiny prick of hesitation, even still, in being so free in expressing your physical love for her sister like this, even if the feigned sisterly ire has long since been replaced with a grateful contentment at getting to witness it.
Because Waverly was lost and her absence permeated every atom of the universe but then she came home, Wynonna brought her home, and she's real and she came back to love you like this. To love Wynonna like this.
And in return, or rather as it always has been, Waverly is loved, fully. She's adored and cared for. Considered and heard and seen. Chosen.
But Wynonna is Wynonna and her sisterly amenability only goes so far until she shifts roles into your best friend and razzes the shit out of you for being all over her baby sister, even if it's usually the other way round.
You're still close, her arms wrapped around your hips now as she's straightened a little taller, keeping you in front of her after placing her tea on the ground, not quite finished with the closeness of you as she noses her way along the exposed skin near your belly button just because she can. "Baby, your nose is cold." She pulls back and scrunches it, red and frozen and you steal her move and poke it with the tip of your finger and she laughs, laughs, laughs.
"Be careful Haught or she'll start quoting that entire scene from 101 Dalmations." Waverly turns sharply, eyes narrowed into a squint in a faux glare as she flips her sister the bird, satisfied in her response until a slow, lazy smirk draws across her face. "Shit."
You roll your eyes and shake your head because you know that look better than anyone, the one that means she won't quote the scene at all now, you'll be watching the whole damn movie instead. Wynonna will never learn to keep her big mouth shut.
----
Wynonna is still at the window, Christmas onesie already donned and chocolate whiskey between her palms. Her sister has pranced off to your bedroom to layer up and get a little more cozy and left you with a kiss pressed right behind your ear and another to your cheek while you set up her movie, because, as always, you were right and she'd pouted and begged you and Wynonna had shouted that you're a pushover. You aren't mad, and neither is Wynonna, your millennial aesthetics still running deep, even if their life was hard and cruel and yours was lonely and all of you were traumatized, a little Disney movie magic was sometimes the fondest escape at one point in all your lives.
"I love your love." You pause mid-sip and eye the back of her head skeptically because what is she even talking about? She turns with a sigh after a few silent moments, knowing that you'll ask eventually if she doesn't speak up so she might as well save time and continue. "In the beginning, and even now," she gags a little and you throw a pillow at her head for good measure. "It was a bit much, the PDA alone dude..." She smirks then, probably thinking of all the times and ways she's interrupted you over the years. "But the way you love each other is pretty amazing." She nods to herself, taking another sip and closes her eyes as the warm liquid hits her belly, the oncoming buzz probably not hurting matters either. "She's happy, like depths of her damn soul, mind-numbingly happy, and she just... feels safe enough to be my sister again, knowing you'll catch her if I let her down," she pauses as a twinge of regret and shame washes over her. "As I do."
You place your own mug down on the table and stand to go to her, plopping down in the chair next to her. "You know you can, right? Be human? Let her down? It doesn't have to mean anything beyond... you're her big sister, her hero, and you're your own people now. You've made up for a lot already." It's easy, their bond now, Wynonna fierce and steadfast and Waverly secure and trusting. They've proven to each other time and time again how they feel and what they mean, what they're willing to do for each other, and if the end of the world, a literal biblical apocalypse couldn't tarnish that, nothing will.
She looks down at her hands and settles more firmly on the ground, picking a little at the zipper track on her jammies. "You mean she's forgiven a lot." She sighs and turns to look far out through the window again and your heart lurches and the ache to wrap her in a hug overwhelms you.
"Well yeah, that's what she does, Wynonna. All she wants is for you to be her sister and to come home to her when you leave, she's not hard to please. Stay, and if you have to go, keep letting her be part of your life." A quiet pause settles between you as Wynonna contemplates that, considers that she can have freedom and have her own life and Waverly can be just as part of it, even from a distance. That she can come home and be welcomed and always have a place to call home. With her sister and now with you too.
That everything can stay the same while also changing. That she belongs.
----
You hear her harmonizing a Christmas tune with her phone upstairs, tiny dancing footsteps crossing the expanse of her bedroom overhead and you share a look of fondness with Wynonna. "Two shirts, maybe my academy hoodie, flannel pj bottoms, fuzzy socks with the hearts on them, or that pretty silky coat thing I still don't know the name of."
Wynonna smirks and shakes her head in exacerbation. "Dude, no way, I saw those kisses. Strappy thin shirt, short shorts, bathrobe, hair... down, but def on the fuzzy socks." She looks satisfied with her answer and with herself as she hands you her mug for a refill. You look over to the stairs with a dreamy far off look because Waverly Earp in anything makes your heart race. "Add another shot instead of the extra scoop of chocolate this time, yeah? Didn't think I'd notice, did you?"
"You can make your own hot chocolate, you know, the kitchen is right there. I'm not your maid." You slide the mug back to her and she volleys it back in your direction and you lunge to grab it from falling to the ground with the extra oomph she added to prove her point.
"You macked on my baby sister right in front of me and just oogled her potential outfit two seconds ago, you'll be on beverage making duty for the rest of our lives for that." You look at her wide eyed and annoyed and she just laughs. "You are so easy to set up, I swear. Besides, you make the best hot chocolate and you booze it up for me under the table without complaint. Waverly gets pissy with me when I ask her and then refuses and then all I get is boring hot chocolate."
She does always set you up and you do always fall for it, but doing so allows her the comfort of telling you how she feels and the safety that you'll always shield Waverly, even when she can't, or sees herself as a failure if she doesn't. She also knows you'll take her shit and shield her too... because she lets you, welcomes it, loves you for it.
"It's the first snow of the season." She runs her hand in a circle to defog the glass, staring out in wonder at the freshly coated ground, untarnished, delicate and glistening under the moonlight above. "We always loved the first snow of the year. Even daddy would go outside with us and throw snowballs. It was like..." She sighs, hand pressed to the glass fully as if reaching for the memory, touching the past, holding one good time with her father in place as she watched it unfold before her.
"A fresh start? A real family? Hope?" She turns to you, eyes a little glossy as she nods, reaching behind her head for a high five because you said it so she didn't have to be any more vulnerable than she already has been, which you happily return. The way her entire being lights up that you're finally willing to is proof that Wynonna is still just a big kid wanting a place to belong, wanting a home that's safe and warm, that's hers and Waverly's, wanting to be loved for exactly who she is and met halfway in the effort she offers.
----
Waverly clears her throat, leaning delicately against the doorframe, arms crossed with a warm smile as she watches affectionately as her two most important things love each other in such an open, real way. She lingers when you meet her eyes, offering you a salacious smile as she drops her arms from in front of her chest and sways a little in place so you can get a secret look at her, just for you, and you return it with your own dopey grin and Wynonna groans and Waverly laughs. "Remember the year he taught us how to build a snowman? He dressed it up and everything. Every detail had to be perfect."
"The one with the holster and his badge shoved to its chest? How could I forget? He deputized it and everything." At Waverly's eye roll and her adorable little pout Wynonna turns to your confused look at the change in her mood. "When little Waverly begged him to deputize her he said being a deputy wasn't for little ladies like herself, if I remember correctly." You look at her with offense as you scoff at his blatant ridiculousness and then in solidarity with Waverly. "Sorry, Nicole."
"Don't worry baby, he was a dumb drunk misogynist. Everyone knows you're the best sheriff in the whole universe." You shake your head and she shrugs a little and raises a challenging eyebrow to you because she knows you'll correct her, offer the lofty title to Nedley and she cuts you off before you can dive into the ins and outs of why you're not the best. "My best baby is the best at everything, you can't change my mind." Your whole body relaxes as she blows you a kiss and if you wouldn't be made fun of, you'd have reached out and caught it and pressed it to your heart like the love sick idiot you are.
She pushes off the frame, heading towards Wynonna now as her sister looks at her with confusion because usually she'd head over to kiss you first. "Remember when he showed me how to make a snow angel and then actually volunteered to be my partner against you and Willa? Totally helped me win that snowball fight." She stands over her sister, looking out the window, placing her hand gently on her shoulder. "It really is beautiful, isn't it?"
Wynonna looks up at Waverly with an affectionate smile, and then with a look of triumph as she proceeds to give her sister a slow, hard up down, shooting you the a-okay hand gesture in secret with a sly nod. She's wearing the strappy shirt and the shorts and that make your knees go a little weak and you sigh, shoving off the chair and grab your mugs and head back into the kitchen with a shake of your head. You always underestimate the lengths Waverly will go to make a statement, but Wynonna never does.
They don't even notice your departure, and you're happy to give them a few moments of reminiscing together. Of a hard life with a few scattered moments of normal and happy, of the few where the word family was vaguely recognizable, even if just for one night out of the year. Where their dad was maybe just a dad and their sister was maybe not a monster and there were no demons and no magic guns, just three little girls and their dad playing in the snow.
You do give her the extra shot, just because she was sweet and you know she'll be less fussy about the movie because it's decidedly not one of her favorites from the vault. You're grateful for the presumably uncharacteristic lack of princess movies when the three of you do settle in for a 'Waverly pouted and neither of you can resist her' occasional movie nights. But she snuggles closer and is a little more handsy when she gets her way and Wynonna is just happy to be part of a real family, even if she throws popcorn at the screen and narrates the whole damn thing. It's still... home.
----
They've settled on the couch, thick fleece blanket and bonus blanket wrapped and tucked tightly around Waverly. Wynonna gets too hot but her head is in Waverly's lap, feet hanging and bouncing over the armrest when you finally make it back into the room. You hand her the mug and she sniffs it with a secret smile and an affectionate nod of gratitude. Waverly takes hers with a love drunk grin and opens the blanket on her other side wide enough for you to crawl under as a chill runs through her and she squeaks her displeasure and begs you to hurry because it's cold even with a fire blazing and Wynonna running hot against her.
You sigh, settling in next to her as she carefully tucks herself into your side, pulling your arm down around the front of her body and holding onto it tightly with her free hand. She kisses it three times quickly as you watch her, giving it a gentle tug with a soft grunt at the angle because she wants more and you lean down so she can reach and press three more to your lips with a contented hum of approval at the warmth of you. It's soft and safe and effortless, everything you could have ever dreamed of, more even, as you begin to run your fingers through her hair and she sighs.
Waverly looks down to Wynonna who is comfortably watching the movie with rapt attention, soft eyes at the puppies she's already noted her verbal distaste for three times before it even began, and then looks back to you. You meet her eyes and run your nails a little more deliberately across her scalp and she smiles, mouthing a gentle thank you, raising her eyebrows softly in awe of you and of this family and of this life. That the three of you are here, now, an equal sort of love she never could have dreamed of.
In awe that it's hers.
You nod and sigh back and she whispers that she loves you, kissing the back of your hand again and Wynonna leans her head back to look at you both practically upside down. "I heard that. Keep those hands to yourself, Haught." Waverly takes a sip of her tea innocently.
And this, you think, is what a family should be. Built and earned and fought for. Maybe with a sprinkle of luck, a dash of patience - okay a lot of patience - some forgiveness, some acceptance, and a whole lot of love. And yours, they, are perfect. And with the snow falling gently by the window, the dirty town blanketed in white, refreshed and renewed with promise and hope, even just for a little while, everything is calm and right and perfect and beautiful in your little world.