Chapter Text
Amity is a light sleeper, always has been, probably always will be. Her relationship with sleep has never been particularly the healthiest, but it’s been far less of a problem ever since moving in with Luz. Plus, being easy to stir means that she can be on her feet immediately when she senses a threat - or when Luz s shuffling around in bed a little too much, normally an indicator of her being plagued by nightly distress.
Tonight seems to be the latter scenario, as when Amity’s eyes open, Luz’s sleepy ones blink back at her. “Hey,” Luz greets, voice rough from lack of use.
“Hey,” Amity says in reply, arms coming around to secure Luz’s waist. “Nightmare?”
“No, actually,” Luz tells her, and while Amity is glad to hear it, she picks up on the baffled tone of Luz’s voice. “It was a weird dream, though.”
“Go on,” Amity says, tugging Luz closer.
“You were in it? And you were, uh, driving a motorcycle?”
Amity’s world stops for a moment. “What.”
“Yeah, I know!” Luz giggles, so close that Amity can feel the vibrations of her laughter under her own skin. “You were in a leather jacket, wearing sunglasses, and had tattoos all down your arms…”
Amity is now fighting back her own laughter. “Luz, you’re joking.”
“I’m not!” Luz says, a grin wide on her face. “I saw it all! Actually, you know what? You kinda looked like Mattholomule when he’s trying too hard to be cool.”
“Luz, stop talking right now.” Amity insists, not a hint of bite in her voice.
Luz simply laughs and snuggles closer, laying her head in the crook of Amity’s neck. “So, when should we go on a date to the motorbike dealership to make this dream a reality?”
“I am not buying one of those human death machines,” Amity grumbles. Something as small and exposed as a motorbike should be flown in the air, like a staff, not on the road alongside hundreds of much tankier cars.
“Mm, maybe just the sunglasses then.”
“You told me human dreams have deeper meaning. Is this what you want me to be like? Perhaps I should go and make an appointment at the tattoo clinic,” Amity muses, running her fingers up and down Luz’s arm.
“Honestly, I can’t even imagine you with tattoos,” Luz says in reply. “I mean, if you got one, I’d love it, but I like you just as you are, y’know? I don’t need you to be some scary biker.”
“Clearly, some part of your brain does,” Amity replies teasingly.
“Shh,” Luz says. “Whoever the girl was in my dream, it definitely wasn’t you. I’m pretty sure the Amity Noceda I’m holding in my arms right now thinks staying in and reading a good book is the peak Friday night.”
“Because it is,” Amity says, “and you agree.”
“That’s why we got married, isn’t it?” Luz says, placing a sleepy kiss against Amity’s cheek.
“It is,” Amity replies, “and as your wife, I’m telling you to go back to sleep. I don’t know what time it is, but it’s definitely not a time to be awake.”
“Okay, fine,” Luz says. “But one more kiss?”
Amity rolls her eyes, but leans forward to gently meet Luz, the press of lips against each other as wonderful as it’s been the past thousand times.
“Goodnight, Luz,” Amity whispers, once they separate. “I love you.”
“I love you too,” Luz replies, “my hot biker wife.”
“Shut up.”