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Waverly had never been happier to see the Homestead in her whole Earpin’ life. Those two weeks away had felt like two years.
After two weeks in Greece, a delayed flight, and one very short but frantic layover spent sprinting through the Toronto airport, they had finally made it. As she pulled the Jeep in through the wooden gate that marked their property, she could see a figure stand up from where it had been seated on the porch steps, watching for their arrival. A figure with red hair, wearing blue plaid. Waverly had to resist the urge to floor the accelerator just to close that last bit of distance faster. Instead, she slowly and responsibly parked the Jeep between their much-abused blue truck and the Purgatory sheriff’s patrol car.
By the time she opened the door and tumbled out of the Jeep, Nicole had jogged over. She caught her as she touched the ground and immediately pulled her into a long, long overdue kiss, leaning into her and encircling her until all she could feel was Nicole. She could vaguely hear the sound of Wynonna protesting from the other side of the car, but it was easy to tune it out and instead revel in the moment— her hands finding the soft, warm skin at the back of Nicole’s neck and pulling her in closer, the eager pressure of Nicole’s lips on hers, the tickle of her hair against her fingers.
“God, I missed you,” Nicole breathed when they paused long enough for words, leaning their foreheads together but not separating. A huge smile split her face, making her cheeks dimple, and it nearly melted Waverly’s heart into goo.
“You’re kind of a sight for sore eyes yourself,” Waverly joked, although it was a little more literal than she would have liked. The plane had been too cold for her to sleep, and even after Wynonna gave her her jacket, she had still been too antsy about finally getting back to her wife and her house and her bed to really close her eyes. Combined with some already mediocre nights of sleep and general jet lag, her eyes were burning and her whole body was crying out for a hot bath and a soft bed. For the moment, she settled for sinking against Nicole, who seemed perfectly happy to hold her tighter, taking some of the weight off her aching legs. She was warm, and the flannel was soft under her cheek, and she smelled so good, like vanilla and love and home…
“Hey, you okay?” Nicole asked after a minute, startling Waverly out of an almost-doze. “Little jet-lagged?” A gently teasing smile played at her wife’s lips.
“More than a little,” Waverly sighed into her shirt, still reveling in the familiar feeling of Nicole’s body, warm and solid under her cheek. Ten days apart had been way, way too long. She would never plan a trip for that long again. She tightened her grip, grateful to be back home. “Thanks for not shooting at me this time.”
She felt Nicole’s laugh against her cheek and reveled in the happy sound.
“Haught,” Wynonna greeted, apparently having exited the passenger seat at some point in their reunion.
“Earp,” Nicole nodded back. “Welcome home, Wynonna.”
“Good to be back, but I’m just… taking off again. Wanna get back south while I still have daylight,” Wynonna said. She looked tired, too, but had managed to sleep a few hours on the plane. Waverly thought about talking her into staying overnight and leaving the next day, but Wynonna looked determined. Besides, neither of them might feel much better the next day, what with the jet lag and everything.
“Sure thing,” Nicole answered. “Your bike’s in the barn. Rachel’s been eyeing it. I don’t think she actually tried to ride it this time, but if you leave it here again, I can’t make any promises.”
“Tell her to get her own.”
“You tell her. She’s in there now. I’m sure she’d like to see you before you go.”
Wynonna grunted vaguely, then gestured at them to separate. With a roll of her eyes, Nicole loosened her grip, and Waverly pulled away just enough to instead exchange a tight hug with her sister.
“See you soon, okay?” Wynonna promised. They had already said their longer goodbyes in the plane and the car.
“Tell everyone hi from me,” Waverly told her.
“Me too,” Nicole added, as Wynonna released Waverly and pulled Nicole into a slightly quicker hug.
“Sure. And you two try not to burn the house down with your—” She made a lewd hand gesture. “Okay?”
Nicole looked like she wanted to argue, but instead gave a reluctant smile.
“We’ll try, sis,” she needled, as Wynonna rolled her eyes at the word— though Waverly knew deep down, she didn’t mind having her best friend as her sister-in-law. “Have a safe trip.”
Waverly leaned back into Nicole again and gave a small wave as Wynonna stalked off to greet Rachel and fetch her bike. She felt a small pang— it had been nice, spending so much time with her sister. Since the wedding, they hadn’t been able to see each other much.
On the other hand, she had missed Nicole desperately during their time apart, and she had never been happier to be home, even if it meant that Wynonna was leaving again. She leaned her face against Nicole’s shoulder and breathed deeply. Home.
She could feel Nicole’s hands on her back, gripping her shirt, keeping her close.
“Are you okay?” Waverly asked. She knew that the time apart must have been torture, and that whatever signs of anxiety Nicole had let slip during their phone calls, there was probably so much more that she had managed to keep hidden.
“Much better now,” Nicole said, and Waverly snuggled a little deeper into the embrace. By this point, Nicole was supporting most of her weight, which was a small relief for her aching legs. She knew they needed to go inside, but it was so nice being all wrapped up outside. The cool air blew around them, smelling of prairie grass and mountain air, so familiar that she hadn’t even noticed the difference until it had been replaced with the salty Mediterranean. But now she was back on the Homestead’s land, home safe again.
Then again, inside there were beds. Blankets. Pillows. Bonus blankets. God, she had missed their bed.
“Could you get my suitcase for me?” she asked, the words mumbled into Nicole’s blue flannel shirt. She wouldn’t normally have asked, but the thought of carrying it all the way up the stairs with her aching, exhausted body felt literally impossible.
“Of course,” Nicole said immediately. Waverly felt her start to pull back a little, and she tightened her grip reflexively. Nicole froze. “Um… Waves, you have to let me go first.”
“Don’t wanna.” Waverly smiled against her, still refusing to let her go. She heard and felt another soft chuckle.
“Hey, I can carry you in, or the suitcase, but not both,” Nicole told her, a laugh and a challenge in her voice. Waverly feigned a dramatic sigh. There was definitely some appeal to the thought of calling Nicole’s bluff and seeing if she really would carry her inside— her legs could use the rest, and it was extremely sexy when Nicole picked her up. On the other hand, she did want to unpack, and her suitcase didn’t have legs of its own.
“Fine,” she sighed, stretching the word out and saturating it with audible reluctance. She loosened her grip on Nicole, who pulled back slowly, clearly no more eager to separate than Waverly had been. Nicole retrieved the suitcase from the back of the jeep and hefted it over her shoulder. It was filled with Waverly’s laptop, some books, a few souvenirs and gifts, and a mountain of dirty laundry that would rival Olympus.
Waverly almost told her that she didn’t have to prove anything, she could use two hands to carry it, but when Nicole gravitated back to her side and linked their hands, Waverly felt the words evaporate. Instead, she just squeezed Nicole’s hand back and led them step by step back into the Homestead.
Waverly had planned to make her homecoming all about Nicole. After all, Nicole had been the one stuck at home, being bullied by her separation anxiety and nightmares, while her two favorite people vacationed without her. Waverly had planned to arrive home, look her over, deduce her exact physical and emotional state, and immediately start to remedy what she found, whatever that took— holding her, reassuring her, sleeping beside her, ravishing her. But here in reality, her brain was running on fumes, exhaustion leaving her usually whip-sharp mind sluggish and staticky. She wanted to interrogate Nicole about how she felt, to gauge the depth of the circles under her eyes, to hold her hand and make her talk about the past two weeks. But instead, all she could do was curl sleepily against Nicole’s chest, thinking Warm and Home and Vanilla and Heart.
Two weeks apart with daily video calls and she’d still missed Nicole like a lost limb— how in the world had Nicole survived eighteen months (and three weeks and four days)? She nuzzled deeper into Nicole’s shirt at the thought, breathing her in. It felt so good to be back in her arms after so long apart. Cozily tucked against her wife, she felt a yawn pull at her jaw, and despite the lack of blankets, she felt herself already starting to drift off. The exhaustion had taken its toll, and now she was home and warm and Nicole was holding her, and surely everything else could wait just a bit while she rested her eyes.
Nicole’s body shifted under her, her chest catching in a chuckle, pulling her back from the brink of sleep.
“Nuh-uh. Come on, Wave, wake up. You shouldn’t sleep yet,” Nicole said, her voice amused. Waverly felt hands chafe over her back and scratch the back of her neck, and she blinked a few times, sucking in a deep, somewhat bemused breath.
“Wha— Why?” she mumbled, rubbing her burning eyes. She would have been outraged if she’d had the energy.
“Because it’s the middle of the day here. If you sleep now, you’ll ruin your whole sleep schedule for days. Trust me, you’ll be better off if you wait until tonight. That’s the fastest way to beat the jet lag.”
She was probably right— Waverly was magnanimous enough to grant that. After all, Nicole had spent her early adult years traveling almost constantly, and probably knew what she was talking about.
But the bone-deep tiredness of jet lag and a long plane flight and two weeks of tossing and turning was making a very convincing argument for sleeping right here, right now, and damn the consequences.
“I know, you’re right…” A yawn interrupted her. “But maybe just like an hour…”
The couch was so comfortable— it was the new one they had bought after the fire, and it was so much softer than the old one. All that was missing was a blanket or two, and it would be perfect.
“I get it, it’s past midnight in Greece now, you’re crashing. But if you stay awake just a few more hours, it’ll really help you get through the next week.” Nicole’s words were less convincing than her actions, which involved slowly sliding out from underneath Waverly, taking away her warm pillow and leaving her grumbling a protest. “You’re extremely cute when you’re this tired, but try to keep your eyes open. I’ll make us some coffee.” Studiously ignoring Waverly’s pout, she pressed a kiss to her forehead before walking into the kitchen.
Waverly sighed disconsolately, weighed her options for several seconds, and reluctantly stood, groaning at the ache in her legs, to follow her wife to the kitchen. Nicole grinned when she saw her enter.
“Hey,” she greeted, as though they hadn’t seen each other mere seconds ago. She finished with the coffee maker, and it gurgled to life, starting to percolate. They both sat across from each other at the table, and Nicole took her hands. It felt wonderfully normal, sitting at the kitchen table together and listening to the coffee brew. It was almost worth staying awake for, even if part of her still wanted to faceplant on the table. “I missed this,” Nicole said, echoing her thoughts.
Waverly looked up into her eyes. The grin on Nicole’s face was wide and genuine, but the shadows under her eyes were deep and telling.
“Baby, you look as tired as I feel,” Waverly told her, squeezing her hands gently and smoothing her thumbs over Nicole’s fingers.
“I’m okay,” Nicole said immediately. “Better by the minute, I promise.”
Waverly tried to ask something like “But yesterday? And last week?” but a wide yawn cut her off and left her ducking her head, tired eyes squinting shut. She heard Nicole chuckle, and felt her squeeze her hands.
“We can talk about it tomorrow,” Nicole said.
Waverly was tempted to argue back, to insist that she did want to talk about it now, but her head was swimming and even she could admit that she wasn’t firing on all cylinders. Maybe it would be better to talk about it later, when she could give Nicole the focus and thoughtfulness she deserved.
Instead, she released Nicole’s hands and stood. She saw Nicole’s eyebrows furrow, brown eyes tracking her as she dragged her chair closer, until it bumped against Nicole’s with a wooden clack, putting them side-by-side instead of across the table. That accomplished, she slumped back into it, leaning into Nicole’s side. Smiling now, Nicole agreeably slid an arm around her shoulders, holding her snugly in place.
Waverly settled against her contentedly. After being separated by entire oceans and continents for two weeks, even being across the table had felt too far. She picked up one of Nicole’s hands in both of hers.
“What about everyone else?” Waverly asked absently, turning Nicole’s hand over in hers, lightly tracing over the lines of her palm. “Jeremy? Nedley? Rachel and Billy?”
“They’re all fine,” Nicole said, her voice quiet. Waverly glanced up at her face and saw her eyes focused on their joined hands. Smiling a little to herself, Waverly raised the hand to her lips and kissed the palm.
“So nothing major to report?” Waverly prompted again, a little teasingly. “I know it was only two weeks, but… well, you know. It sure felt like a long time.”
Nicole shook her head a little, her attention obviously torn.
“No. Um… Mercedes is, uh… thinking about building up some of her family’s properties in town. Nedley and Billy went out to Jasper for the weekend. Jeremy’s been busy. Rachel’s been Rachel.”
The sputtering of the coffee maker made Waverly pause the slow circles she had been tracing into Nicole’s palm. Nicole raised her head and blinked like she’d been freed from a hypnotic spell, her eyes drawn to the hissing appliance.
“Hang on, let me…” She stood, and Waverly could read the weariness in the motion. Nicole’s movements were a little too slow, a little too stiff to look completely natural. She took a step across the kitchen, then another, only pulling her hand from Waverly’s grip when their arms couldn’t stretch any farther.
Nicole made quick work of their coffee mugs, albeit with a few quick glances back towards the table, as if worried that Waverly might have somehow vanished while her back was turned. Waverly was on the verge of crossing the kitchen and reassuring her with a hug, but by the time she had made up her mind, Nicole was already returning, a steaming mug in each hand.
As she carefully set the mugs down on the table, Waverly lightly touched her arm again, a silent reassurance. Nicole met her eyes and smiled, tiredly but genuinely. Waverly wished she could just pull her all the way upstairs and tuck her into bed (and, of course, tuck herself right there with her). But Nicole seemed committed to staying awake for a few more hours, and if that was something she wanted, or something that made her feel useful after a rough two weeks, then Waverly would follow along.
“Come on,” Waverly said, before Nicole could slump back down into her kitchen chair. “Why don’t we go sit on the porch.”
Nicole nodded automatically, and they instead carried their mugs outside. Waverly sat on the swing, while Nicole leaned hard against the porch railing, the old wood creaking as it was called to support her exhausted weight.
“Baby, are you sure you don’t just want to go rest for a little while?” Waverly wheedled, watching Nicole sag wearily against a support post. Was it a trick of the light, or was she trembling?
“Oh trust me, I want to,” Nicole sighed, dragging herself back upright. She stretched as she straightened, and even from a few feet away, Waverly could hear the pop of tired joints. She added a line to her to-do list for the next day, after a good night’s sleep— 1) talk to Nicole about how she felt while they were gone, 2) welcome-home sex, 3) plenty of cuddling, 4) one long nap, 5) home cooked meal, 6) maybe another nap, and now 7) rub Nicole’s back.
In the meantime, she beckoned Nicole over to sit next to her. Nicole obeyed with a tired smile, easing herself down onto the porch swing and snaking an arm around Waverly’s back. Waverly leaned into her, cuddling close until Nicole sighed in contentment. They both sat there, in the bright afternoon sun that felt so wrong— like it should be a cool sunset, or a moon and stars— sipping their coffee in quiet togetherness.
The coffee and the fresh air perked Waverly up for about five minutes, but it didn’t last. The gentle rocking of the porch swing and the soothing warmth of Nicole’s shoulder had her eyes drooping again.
“Do you think you two will go on more trips?” Nicole asked, startling Waverly back awake from where she had been nodding off against her shoulder.
“Um…” she grasped for an answer among her muddled thoughts, a wide yawn buying her a few extra seconds. “Maybe. But not anytime soon,” she assured Nicole, her free hand finding Nicole’s leg and squeezing. “And not for as long as this time. Our last few days there, I was dying to get home so bad I barely enjoyed it. I missed you. And I missed home.” It went without saying that the two increasingly felt like the same thing.
Nicole set her empty mug to the side and covered Waverly’s hand with her own. It was still extra warm from her coffee mug, and her thumb stroked softly over Waverly’s fingers.
“I missed you too.”
“And I missed our bed,” Waverly sighed. She lifted her head slightly to meet Nicole’s eyes (and, more importantly, to give her her best puppy-dog eyes). “Are you sure we can’t just go lie down for an hour or two?”
The porch swing was nice, but she craved stretching out on their mattress and burying herself under a stack of familiar-smelling blankets, then snuggling up to her wife and dropping off into oblivion.
“The best way to avoid jet lag—” Nicole started, and Waverly rolled her eyes a little, giving up.
“Yeah, yeah,” she sighed, slumping back into Nicole’s shoulder with a huff.
But she kept watching Nicole, watched her brown eyes fight to stay alert, watched her head fight to stay upright, watched the exhausted slump of her shoulders, and she began to formulate a plan.
She started by gently picking up Nicole’s hand, first stroking over the palm, then tracing each of the fingers. The action seemed to pull a sigh out of Nicole.
“You like that?” Waverly asked her, voice low. She unbuttoned the cuff of Nicole’s flannel shirt, exposing her forearm, and trailed her fingers up the newly revealed skin.
“Mm-hm,” Nicole hummed her assent, her eyes sliding half-shut. After two weeks of being reminded what it felt like to be touch-starved, Waverly could tell she was grateful for the simple contact. “If you’re trying to put me to sleep, it’s not going to work,” Nicole warned her.
“I’m not,” Waverly said. Not yet. She shifted position under Nicole’s arm, pulling her legs up onto the swing, her knees resting partially in Nicole’s lap. Nicole sighed again, her arm curling more securely around Waverly, holding her in place. Taking advantage of the new position, Waverly advanced her tactics and instead began trailing her fingers along Nicole’s leg— first, rather innocently over her knee, then inching further back until Nicole’s tracelike state sharpened, glazed eyes coming back into focus and darkening. One stroke grazed the inside of her thigh, and Waverly could feel a twitch in her hips, a new tension in her body.
“Wave… What are you doing?” Nicole’s voice drawled, some mix of amused and warning.
“Oh, nothing,” Waverly cooed, batting her eyelashes in mock innocence. Nicole breathed a laugh.
“Trust me, baby, I am very aware that we haven’t had sex in ten and a half days, but right now I don’t think anything short of a barrel of espresso or a lightning strike is going to wake me up enough to—” Waverly interrupted Nicole’s halfhearted excuse with a two-pronged attack— one hand slipping between her thighs, the other scraping the back of her neck until whatever she had been planning to say was lost in a gasped “—fuck.”
“This enough of a lightning strike for you?” Waverly teased, taking advantage of Nicole’s surprise to straddle her lap. The porch swing juddered ominously at the motion. She pressed her lips to Nicole’s, her tongue tasting coffee and vanilla inside Nicole’s mouth. Nicole groaned as she pulled back, even though Waverly kept their foreheads pressed together, noses brushing as Nicole tried to reinstate the kiss. “Now,” Waverly said, keeping her lips just out of reach. “I really would like to take you upstairs and say a proper hello to you. Can we do that?”
Waverly already knew she’d won— she could see the yearning in Nicole’s eyes, the smoldering need to reconnect fully, to touch and be touched, to truly end the separation.
But still, it was a particular delight to feel Nicole’s arms loop under her thighs and lift her up, beelining for the stairs and their waiting bedroom.
By the time Waverly’s back hit the mattress, Nicole was wild-eyed and panting desperately, nearly ripping the buttons off her own shirt as she fought to get it off.
“Shhh, easy,” Waverly soothed, reaching up to still her hands. “We have time. Here.” She undid the last few buttons and pulled Nicole’s shirt off, then the undershirt. “See?”
God it was good to see her after ten long days.
“I missed you,” Nicole said, unintentionally echoing her thoughts. Her voice was raw, and Waverly could hear the pain in it. She leaned up, pulling Nicole down into a kiss, her arms looped securely around Nicole’s neck, encircling her. Her fingers stroked over the mark on the back of Nicole’s neck— the Angel’s shield, the physical manifestation of her love and loyalty, and the thing that had trapped her here while Waverly was free to wander.
“I missed you, too,” she promised, and trailed her lips down, catching Nicole’s jaw, then her neck. Nicole groaned at the touch, and allowed Waverly to flip her down onto the mattress and kiss her way down her body.
It was much later, after many cries of release and laughs of joy and even a few stray tears, that they both flopped backwards on the mussed sheets, both breathing heavily, both sated.
“So…” Nicole said, a little breathlessly. “Welcome home.”
Waverly felt laughter bubble up in her chest until it spilled out in uncontrollable giggles. Nicole joined in, both of them sprawled on the mattress, their skin sweaty, their hair a mess, their abandoned clothes carpeting the floor.
After their laughter faded, Nicole heaved a long, contented sigh. It was music to Waverly’s ears.
“Feeling better?” Waverly teased gently. Nicole hummed her agreement.
“Much. But woah… who turned up the gravity?” she murmured, her voice thick with exhaustion. Waverly giggled.
Not that she couldn’t sympathize. Her jet lag and general fatigue plus the post-coital slack-limbed relaxation were a potent combination. Still, she propped herself up on her arms enough to peek at Nicole’s face. Her brown eyes were unfocused, her blinking slow and sleepy.
“You’re exhausted. You need sleep,” Waverly told her. The statement was punctuated by a wide yawn. “I do, too.”
“What about the jet lag?” Nicole murmured, eyes half-closed. Waverly exerted a Herculean effort to sit up enough to grasp the blanket and pull it over both of them before she snuggled herself back into the curve of Nicole’s body. It was the first time in two weeks that the bed had really felt right. She felt no need to toss or turn, no need to check her phone, no need to get up for a glass of water.
“I’ll just have to live with it for a few days,” she murmured, as every muscle in her body seemed to relax and melt into the mattress. “But we’ll survive. We always do.”
Nicole murmured a vague, sleepy agreement, and Waverly sighed in contentment.
“It’s good to be home.”
Rachel paced in front of the porch, eyes glued to her phone.
R: hey is it safe to come inside yet?
R: hey
R: HEY
R: Nicole
R: Nicole
R: Nic
R: Cole
R: I really have to pee
R: can I come inside
R: I don’t want to go in the bushes
R: Hey
The barn had gotten cold, and the giant gas station soda she had brought for sustainance had turned out to be a ill-conceived plan. What started as an impatient toe twitch had slowly led to her pacing in front of the porch, frantically waiting for confirmation that she wasn’t going to walk in on any brain-scarring sex. Those two lovebirds weren’t the best at controlling themselves at the best of times— after ten days separated by an ocean, god only knew what they were getting up to, and where.
But there wasn’t any response on her phone. And her bladder wasn’t going to wait forever.
With a frustrated groan, she climbed the Homestead stairs, making sure to stomp on each step loud enough that the whole porch shook. She hammered on the door like a SWAT team before opening it and pausing just for a second to listen. Through the doorway, she couldn’t hear anything— no creaking springs, no floorboards, no screaming or moaning.
Hesitantly, she stepped inside.
“Innocent, impressionable teen has entered the premesis!” she shouted into the house. They were probably upstairs, but it wouldn’t be the first time she’d caught them elsewhere— the kitchen floor incident was burned into her mind in a way that she was sure would haunt her future therapists. She inched further inside, still cautious. She didn’t see any clothing on the floor, but that didn’t mean anything. Who knew how many of those surfaces they might have pressed each other against in the past few hours.
As she climbed the stairs to the second floor bathroom, she even caught herself squinting at the stairs for a moment before shaking her head at herself. Of all the places in the Homestead, the stairs would be a terrible place for sex— there were some places you just didn’t want splinters. What a silly thought.
“I’m climbing the stairs!” she shouted for good measure. Then, when she reached the top: “I’m now upstairs! And still a teenager! Who doesn’t want to see her… family… naked!” Whatever Nicole and Waverly were to her, there wasn’t quite a word for it. Nicole in particular was some combination of mother, older sister, aunt, roommate, and fellow soldier. But after everything they’d been through, nobody could argue that they weren’t family.
Safely on the second floor, she noticed that their bedroom door was ajar. She raised a suspicious eyebrow at it. Abruptly, she wondered if they were even there, or if they had somehow snuck out while she was in the barn.
Against her better judgement, she stepped towards it and pushed the door gently, just enough to see inside, ready to pull back any second.
Inside, there were two bodies in the bed, spooned together under the covers, both sound asleep and, judging by their lack of reaction to her shouting, absolutely dead to the world.
With a shrug, she shut the door again and headed for the bathroom, making plans to fetch her things from the barn and return to the house— raid the fridge, maybe watch a movie or something. After all, she apparently had the house to herself for the rest of the day. She might as well enjoy the peaceful silence.