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One of these days, Maya Fey was going to drive Franziska crazy—of that she was absolutely certain.
Franziska was fairly confident they were well on their way. She’d already managed the feat of turning the fearsome prosecutor into something more closely resembling a lovesick teenager—something no other woman walking the earth had managed to do. And Maya was utterly spellbinding in how little sense some of the machinations of her mind made, oftentimes she’d say whatever nonsense came to her and Franziska would spend the rest of the day attempting to unravel meaning where there was none. The fact of the matter was that Maya took up a great deal of space in Franziska’s head, and this showed no sign of stopping anytime soon.
Which lead them to… now.
They’d been trying out this whole living together thing in small steps, doing their best to play it safe. Maya had thrown out some slang terms Franziska didn’t quite follow about… moving trucks, and the inclinations that sapphic women had towards them, and honestly Franziska didn’t care to learn whatever it was she was talking about, but the clear takeaway from the conversation was that they shouldn’t rush into things in the whirlwind of giddy, honeymooner’s emotions the both of them were feeling. A few days at Franziska’s LA apartment, a few days at Maya’s considerably less luxurious one, they’d do that for a while until they were confident in settling down together—as much as two powerful career women could settle down, at least.
It had only been a few weeks when Maya had unexpectedly fallen ill. Franziska woke to the sound of her cascading through an absolutely wrenching sneezing fit, holed up in the bathroom and clearly trying to get a handle on herself. Maya rarely woke before noon, and Franziska didn’t need to interrogate her to deduce what was going on. Snapping herself awake with sheer force of will, Franziska trudged out to Maya’s kitchen to raid the cupboards for soup and tea, only to find them severely lacking in both.
Maya reveals herself mere minutes after, calling Franziska’s name in a voice that's stuffy and tired. When Franziska turns to face her she sees that her assumptions are unfortunately very correct—in no time at all her beloved looked dreadful, bags hung heavy under red and irritated eyes as she clings to the blanket around her shoulders like a lifeline.
“Darling, help me out here,” Franziska says, scrutinizing a ramen packet for nutritional value. “Surely you have proper soup somewhere in this house?”
“Wow, good morning to you too, babe.” Maya sniffles, walking closer. “What’s wrong with the ramen? Not gourmet enough for your refined tastes?”
“Not for me, for you.” Franziska swivels to face her, concern drawn across her brow. She reaches out to comb her digits through Maya’s wild black bedhead, gentle as she breaks tangles apart. “You’re clearly unwell, this cheap imitation simply won’t cut it.”
“Pshaw. First of all, I’m fine, babe, it’s just a case of the sniffles,” Maya says. “Second, ramen works just as well as anything else. It’s hot and soupy, what else do you need?”
Franziska clearly isn’t taking that as a valid answer, because she’s pacing the kitchen again with arms crossed, fidgeting with her shoulder sleeve in that cute way she always did. Sighing, she seems to come to an impasse, shoving her right mind along.
“Just—there’s very little to work with, here, I mean you don’t have tea, or orange juice, for that matter—”
“Yeah, here at Casa de Fey we got this dope thing called the sink,” Maya says, grabbing a cup to prove her point. “You turn it on and there’s water.”
“Water is only going to help so much in aiding y—”
She’s cut off when Maya takes a reeling step back, shoulders hiking as she rears up for a truly wall-shaking sneeze. A second follows, sounding tired on the tail of the first, and she’s loud normally but it’s something else now that Franziska’s seen her sick. That can’t have felt good, which is why when Maya moves for the paper towels sitting on the countertop, Franziska all but tackles her to the floor, utterly appalled.
“At least use a tissue!” she’s begging in horror as Maya tends to her bothered nose. “You’re going to hurt yourself—”
“I really didn’t peg you as such a mother hen,” is all Maya can say to that, grinning as she pulls the depressing wad of paper away from her face. “Are you like this when all your friends get sick, or am I special?”
Blushing furiously, Franziska ignores the question. “Nevermind. You feel a little warm, where’s your thermometer?”
“Mmm, don’t have one,” Maya hums from where her face is cradled in Franziska’s hands. The noise that follows from her girlfriend is about as strangled and exasperated as one would expect.
“Now you’re doing this on purpose.”
“If I were you I’d be praising me for my frugal sensibilities!” Maya says. “‘Sides, I’d know if I had a fever, I get all shivery and stupid and stop wanting food. I don’t need a piece of plastic to tell me that.”
“Okay.” Franziska sighs, taking her hands from Maya’s face. “Okay. Okay! Okay, beloved. My darling Maya, who I love so much, who I am not at all frustrated with—”
“Y’know I’ve made it this far in life just fine on my own, Franzy. I’ve been sick before I met you. Like, a lot, I’d say.”
“That’s exactly what I’m agonizing over.” Franziska drags a hand overdramatically down her face, curling her fingers over her mouth in thought. “So many bare bones sick days, you shouldn’t be managing, you should be thriving.”
“‘Kay, no, hold on,” Maya clears her throat and points a finger sharply at her girlfriend’s chest. “I don’t believe for a second that the serial workaholic I’m dating knows the first thing about taking a sick day.”
“You’d be correct, because I don’t take them.” Franziska crosses her arms again, and Maya watches her grip at her sleeve, fearing any more force might chip her nails. “And as such I am incredibly adept at how to most effectively hide—I mean—treat symptoms. There are better ways to—stop doing that!”
That is Maya going in to wipe her nose with another paper towel, but the way Franziska’s looking at her she might as well have just set fire to the curtains. It’s honestly kind of cute, Maya thinks, seeing her this worked up over something so inconsequential.
“You really ought to treat yourself better, Maya.” Another sigh. “Do you at least have some medicine I can give you?”
“I have…” she looks off and up, into some unseen corner, “...painkillers?”
Franziska shuts her eyes, unravels her arms, presses two fingers to her temple as she processes. “Painkillers.”
“Why do I feel like I’m failing a police interrogation?”
“I’m going out,” Franziska announces, clear-cut and commanding and without wiggle room. “And you are going to sit on the couch and watch your explodey robot soap operas until I’m back.”
“Mmmm, I dunno babe, that sounds like a lot of work.” Maya steps forward with faux-lackadaisical flair, burying her itchy eyes into Franziska’s shoulder and snaking her arms around her waist. “And I’m so weak, I dunno if I can do it without my sexy nurse around to tell me what I can and can’t leave my snot on.”
“Spare me.” Franziska rolls her eyes. “You may do whatever foolish things you wish, but your sexy nurse would prefer you get some rest until she can return with proper supplies.”
She hugs Maya back, angling her own head around to press a kiss into her neck, where her blanket’s slipping just a touch. The two of them hold the contact in silence for a moment, swaying slowly and clumsily in a bid to draw their hearts closer together.
“You’re really cute when you’re worried, you know.”
Maya pulls away when she says it, admiring the conspicuous flush that’s crawled its way onto Franziska’s cheeks. She wants to tell Franziska that it’s not something she does on purpose, scraping by in what little ways she can, it’s just… all she’s ever known. Kurain didn’t have things like cold medicine and name-brand tissues, the best she got was Mia shoving tea at her in a concerned tizzy, and that obviously didn’t last. Once Maya was out on her own and money became a thing she had to worry about, she didn’t exactly feel inclined to do much besides the bare minimum—she was fine without luxuriating, and less money spent on things like that meant more cash for fast food, which was the one true panacea for all that would ail her.
“Chin up, Fran,” Maya offers with a smile, “you’ve seen me in way worse binds than this.”
“Precisely,” Franziska responds, cupping Maya’s freckled cheek and thumbing the little patterns with utmost adoration. “I think you’ve seen enough tribulation for one lifetime, and I will do everything in my power to ensure as much.”
“You can’t protect me from everything, y’know?”
“As much as I’m loath to admit it.” She brushes a hair that’s come loose behind Maya’s ear. “But I can buy you soup.”
“Alright, alright, you win.” Maya’s cut off by a yawn, big and tired and assertive in its presence. Her muscles go a little loose in the wake of it, and she slumps against Franziska, embracing her again.
“Naturally. Why don’t you get some more rest? I’ll be back before you can blink.”
Sleepily, Maya nods, allowing herself to be ushered back to bed. The world around her goes a little watercolour, daubed in half-crystallized colours that blur and change, and before Maya knows it she’s drifting to the sound of the TV on low and Franziska shuffling around in the other room. Far-off tinkling of keys, and otherwise thundering heelsteps, and her incredibly forceful girlfriend shutting the door in impossible, careful quiet.