Work Text:
Sinocia enjoys the little bits of routine woven into her day to day life. There’s nothing quite like everything going according to plan—something that can be hard to come by when one works in the medical field. But then there are mornings like this one. Where those carefully crafted and structured moments of routine crumple into a fine dust and fly away with the wind, as if they never existed.
She takes a deep inhale, and lets out a trembling exhale. Somehow, the night before, the curtains in the bedroom closed all the way, not allowing the morning light to rouse her from her sleep. Contrary to popular belief, Sinocia is not a morning person and therefore, if given the opportunity, she won’t wake until hours after the sun has risen. A problem, since tardiness is one of her pet peeves—and if it were any other day, Sinocia would already be in the medical spire by now.
As she rushes to freshen up and pull on her work uniform, she trips and her hip rams right into her dresser. Honestly, she can’t tell whether she wants to scream or cry or a mixture of both but she bites her lip instead.
Another breath. Okay. Sinocia stands still for five heartbeats. She can’t allow this to ruin her whole day. She can’t be grumpy and snap at her patients. She can’t let her emotions overwhelm her this early.
Sinocia wiggles her fingers and then pulls her dress full onto her body, struggling briefly to tug her long hair out of the neck. A flash of frustration hits her again when she realizes that her hair still requires her attention. Maybe she’d reduce the amount of braids today…no, no, there’s not really time for that, she’ll simply have to tie it all up at the nape of her neck.
In the midst of her dilemma, a groggy voice calls out to her. “Sinocia?”
Damnit. She bites down on the inside of her cheek. She should’ve known that the noise from the dresser scraping against the wooden floor would be enough to wake Ermile, the light sleeper that she is. She continues to fiddle with the fastenings to her uniform as she calls out softly, “I’m sorry, love. Please go back to sleep.”
There’s some rustling behind her and then the vibrations of footsteps walking towards her. A large, warm hand landing on her shoulder. “Let me help.”
Sinocia tries to blow the hair out of her face. “Ermile, it’s okay, I can do it. You just got off of the night shift, so go on back to bed. I just have to—”
As if on cue to mock her, Sinocia’s belt slips from her fingers and clatters to the floor below. Another breath, another breath, it’s all okay, it’s all under control. She places her face in her hands, unsure what else to do except that.
Ermile’s hand leaves her to reach and pick up the fallen piece of leather. “Let me help,” she repeats.
“I don’t know what you can do,” Sinocia admits, muffled by her palms. “I don’t want to be dressed like a child.”
Ermile chuckles right next to her ear and it’s pleasant enough to soothe a bit of Sinocia's annoyance. “Would you rather me braid your hair or make breakfast to take with you?”
Sinocia turns the options over in her head. She would rather Ermile go to bed and get some much deserved rest, but she knows very well that once Ermile senses her distress, a single-minded focus takes over until Sinocia feels better. The question becomes more about whether she wants to be alone or not. Ermile’s presence encompasses her in comfort, a testament to her talents as a caretaker and something that Sinocia adores.
“Hair,” Sinocia states, trying to sound firm but the wobble shakes away any stiffness.
A kiss lands on top of Sinocia’s head. “Of course. Anything for you.”
Sinocia sighs and lets Ermile lead her to the bed and sit her down there. Ermile’s always been faster at braiding, even when they were younger studying at the medical spire. It struck Sinocia as odd, since Ermile’s hair has always been cropped short. She later found out that she’d learned just in case a patient needed their hair pulled back from their face. That also happened to be the same time that Sinocia was struck to the bone with a lovesickness that hasn’t left her since.
Within minutes, her hair is completely done in its normal style. Ermile presses her lips against Sinocia’s shoulder, cheek, then temple. “Freshen up. I’ll get your breakfast.”
Sinocia huffs. She should’ve suspected that the options weren’t actually options but a choice of which one Sinocia wanted to happen first. “If you insist,” is what she says but she gives Ermile’s hand a squeeze to show her gratitude.
Ermile gives a soft chuckle and plants another kiss to Sinocia’s knuckles before fluttering out of the room without bothering to pull a robe over her nightgown. Sinocia smiles at the empty doorway. The sour mood eases, like choppy waves settling down into a manageable tide lapping at her ankles.
Sinocia still rushes through her morning routine, though now with more eagerness to see her partner downstairs than anything else. It’s a shame that she and Ermile have been on opposite shifts for the past few weeks. The long hours oppose each other so greatly that they hardly see each other in their own home until a day off.
As selfish as it feels, she’s glad that Ermile hadn’t stayed asleep. Sinocia misses her. A lot. She misses having the same shifts at the spire. Sinocia misses listening to Ermile hum tunelessly as she does menial chores around their home. Sinocia misses tripping over Ermile’s silly house slippers she leaves in various rooms. Sinocia misses the large hand holding hers as she drifts off to sleep while Ermile stays awake with a book, readers perched on the edge of her nose.
A pining ache rolls into her heart and begs to be known. They’ve been together for two years (living together for one of those) and known each other for much longer. However, the domesticity stirred up something that’s been true for a rather long time and brings it to the forefront with overwhelming clarity. Funny, Sinocia notes to herself. Funny that on a morning that should have been the start to a very rough day, Sinocia realizes that she never wants to be without Ermile ever again.
Sinocia carries the realization into the kitchen, where Ermile has finished packing a breakfast and lunch into a small basket. She doesn’t turn as Sinocia approaches but acknowledges her still. “We don’t have much in the way of food at the moment but I can go to the market later today. Also, the Silver Night Festival begins tonight so I thought, since it’s my day off, that we could go together.”
“I want to be with you forever,” Sinocia says firmly, in the place of answering her.
That causes Ermile to pause and she turns her head to face Sinocia with a gleam in her eye. “Do you?”
“Of course.” Sinocia leaves no room for doubt in her statement. “I…I don’t know what else to say except I love you.”
She’s said it before. They both have. Multiple times, many times before. Though now it’s a promise under lock and key half-buried, half-exposed in the center of both of their chests.
Ermile rushes over to her, arms encircling her waist as she lifts her off the ground with ease. It startles a giggle out of Sinocia and that only serves to brighten Ermile’s growing smile. “And I love you too.”
The hold on Sinocia shifts, suddenly dipping her until her hair almost touches the ground. A squeal escapes her mouth and it devolves instantly into a full-bellied laugh as Ermile’s nose nudges at Sinocia’s cheek, a grin plastered to both of their faces.
“Is that so?” Sinocia says between chuckles.
“I’ll be here every morning,” Ermile vows.
That’s more than Sinocia could dare to ask for. “You don’t have to be awake. You being here is enough for me.”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Sinocia seals their mouths together with a happy hum. It’s all-too short because, despite the turn around her morning has taken, that doesn’t change the fact that she is very much late for work. “I’m very glad. Alright, let me up, I have to get going.”
With only a slight hesitance, Ermile does as she asks and retrieves the basket while Sinocia straightens out her uniform. She accepts the basket gratefully and rushes to the door to unbolt it.
Once it’s open, Ermile calls out to her, “I’ll see you later? For the festival?”
Sinocia glances back at her, delivering the largest grin she can manage. “Yes. I look forward to it.”
The door closes and thus begins Sinocia’s walk to work. She expects her mood to fall but the joy continues to ricochet in her veins, filling her with bouncing energy and an urge to keep the smile on her face. Her stride increases, growing faster and faster as she breaks into a run with the basket cradled against her sternum. The giddiness propels her until she is sprinting down the street in the most undignified fashion.
Sinocia can’t bring herself to care.