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All it takes it one glance for her to know Historia’s had a shit day and Ymir feels her chest constrict at the sight of her girlfriend rolling her head side to side wearily as she slips off her jacket and flings it toward the recliner. She’s sitting on the couch, legs crossed underneath her as she plays online with the guys, but even with the volume on her headset up almost all the way she barely notices their yelling with Historia home. She glances between the screen and her girlfriend, catching her eyes and smiling when Historia waves tiredly at her.
“Hey guys,” she says, glancing back at the screen. She moves her character into a corner, pointed toward the danger but out of the way for a moment, and continues with, “cover me; I gotta wish my girl a proper welcome home, yeah?”
There’s a chorus of groans that almost drown out Eren’s muffled tell Historia hi that sounds genuine enough and Ymir laughs, dropping her controller on the arm of the couch next to her just as Historia kicks free of her shoes and flings herself at Ymir’s lap. Ymir knocks the headset off her head and around her neck with a quick shake, ducking down to press a kiss against the crest of her girlfriend’s cheek as the other girl worms her arms around Ymir’s waist and squeezes.
“Hey sweetheart,” Ymir says, knowing she’s probably grinning stupidly and not caring. Historia glances up at her, bright eyes dim with exhaustion, hair still in a ponytail as it usually is after work.
“You don’t have to stop playing because of me,” Historia grumbles, which is what she always says when Ymir leaves the brunt of the grunt work for the boys to do while she cuddle her. Ymir rolls her eyes at that, scooping the other’s tiny frame into her arms and lifting her up so that she can rearrange them on the couch more comfortably. It ends with Historia is lying completely on top of her, face buried against her neck, and Ymir savors the feeling of their chests pressing against each other with each breath they take.
“The boys can cover for me for a few minutes without wetting their fucking panties,” Ymir responses. The headset is so close to both of them it’s probably picking up everything they’re saying, which would explain the tinny distant uproar her statement causes. She snickers and even Historia laughs, low and short, twisting to kiss the edge of her jaw gently as best she can around the bulky device. Ymir sighs in response, warmth spreading through her chest. While Historia peppers kisses against her jaw she reaches for the hair tie holding Historia’s hair up, working it carefully free of the blonde strands before rolling it onto her own wrist one handed. Immediately Historia goes a little limp and Ymir knows from experience that Historia’s habit of pulling her hair back too tight is a constant source of pain for her, especially during really stressful days.
“Don’t worry, baby, I got you,” Ymir murmurs, threading both her hands through the soft hair, massaging lightly at Historia’s scalp until her girlfriend sighs, burrowing as close as she can with the headset still around her neck and going limp with relief. She keeps doing it for a little while longer, not bothering to stop until she glances over and realizes the boys she’s playing with are becoming overwhelmed and need her help.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” she mutters, reluctantly pulling one hand up to shove the headset back over her ears. Historia reaches up to help, laughing quietly as she does so, her eyes back to their usual bright blue as she presses a quick kiss to Ymir’s lips before setting back against her. Ymir takes her other hand back with one last squeeze to the back of Historia’s neck, reaching up for the controller above her head as she cranes to see what the fuck is happening on the television.
“You fuckers can’t wipe your own asses for five minutes without me, huh,” Ymir mocks, quickly reorienting to the horde of enemies coming their way. As usual there are a wide range of response to that, Reiner going with the classic fuck you while Eren tries to explain in a voice increasing in pitch why this is all Jean’s fault. Ymir doesn’t particularly pay attention to anything they say, since she’s still more focused on the warm weight of her girlfriend curled happy and relaxed on top of her. Historia glances up, catching her gaze, before reaching up with a laugh to nudge her jaw in the direction of the television once more.
“Save the boys,” she says, loud enough for them to hear, because Historia likes poking at them just as much as Ymir does. “Then stare at me dopily like an idiot. Deal?”
“Deal,” Ymir says, ignoring the cat calls the boys holler, proving they can still hear Historia, just like Ymir thought they could. Losers are just jealous, she thinks with a grin, that’s all. But then she remembers something, letting go of the controller with one hand to grab the back of Historia’s head and pull her up into a quick, firm kiss.
The kiss ends up being two pairs of lips grinning against each other as Ymir mutters a soundless welcome home and Historia laughs, the sound like a church bell and the only religion Ymir will ever need. She laughs back, warm and happy, their noses brushing as Historia shudders and mutters back I’m home just as soundlessly like it’s the easiest, simplest thing.
Ymir knows that the idea of a home is a foreign concept to both of them, but she also knows they’ve built their homes in each other. She basks in that thought as Historia leans back to watch her save the boys asses with a look of contentment that makes Ymir dizzy with happiness.
Shit days are no match for her, she boasts internally. Neither are these fucking pixilated creeps either.
“Honestly,” she mutters to Historia, because she knows it will make her laugh, “boys are so useless.”
Historia runs a hand through her loose hair and laughs, eyes crinkling shut as she does so. “Be nice,” she teases and Ymir thinks, for you, always.