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Carina needs Maya.
Not just in the way someone needs air or food or water—though, if she’s honest, it feels like that sometimes. No, she needs Maya in the way a heart needs rhythm, in the way the sea needs the shore to kiss it back. She needs her blue-eyed, blonde-haired wife.
She remembers the first time she saw her. The flash of blonde hair under the harsh fluorescents of the ER, the sharp glint of steel in her gaze even as she clutched a plastic bag.
Carina had been fascinated.
Not just by the way Maya looked—though, Dio, she had been breathtaking—but by the fire in her, the fight.
And then—Joe’s.
Maya had been different there. The same fire, but softened. And when they were a few drinks in, a smirk tugging at her lips, laughter falling so easily from her mouth that Carina had wanted to catch it, to bottle it, to hold it against her skin. And then those blue eyes had met hers—steady, certain, like she had already made up her mind.
Carina had known, in that moment, that she was going home with this woman.
But what she hadn’t known—what she couldn’t have known—was that she wasn’t just going home with Maya. She was going home to Maya.
And now, years later, she always does.
Or maybe it’s the other way around.
Maybe it’s Maya who’s become Carina’s home.
Blue-eyed ballerina
God only knows how much I need ya
From day one, I knew you were the one
Gimme your hand, and I'll give you mine
You're the reason I look forward to coming home at night
Carina doesn’t want to sleep yet.
She’s curled up in bed, a medical journal open in her lap, but the words are blurring together, slipping between her fingers like sand. They mean nothing, not when her thoughts are elsewhere. Not when her wife is elsewhere.
Maya is out on a four-alarm fire.
They had done their ritual. That was unshakable. A kiss, soft and lingering, filled with all the things they didn’t say out loud. A whispered ti amo. A promise wrapped in an I love you. A second kiss, just in case. And then, some nights—like tonight—Maya would take a few steps toward the door before pausing, turning back for one more.
The OB had laughed when it happened this time. “Amore, if you don’t go now, you’ll never leave.”
But the firefighter just grinned, leaning in, stealing another kiss. “Would that be such a bad thing?”
And oh, how Carina had wanted to say no. To pull her back inside, to let her hands roam warm skin instead of reaching for nothing. But instead, she had just smiled, shaking her head as she wiped at her cheek.
It had been date night, after all—one of the few nights Maya wore lipstick, but tonight they weren’t going anywhere. No tonight the lipstick on Maya’s lips was just for her, just because she knew Carina liked it. And now, that same lipstick lingered on her lips, smudging onto Carina’s skin with every stolen kiss before she finally, reluctantly, walked to the door.
“You got lipstick on me,” she’d scolded, though there was no real heat behind it.
Maya had only winked. “Good. Something to remember me by.”
And then she was gone.
And Carina—she hadn’t wiped it off.
She still hasn’t.
She lets her fingers brush over the smudged red stain now, her chest tightening. It’s ridiculous, really, how much she misses the blonde when she’s gone. It’s not like this is new. Not like she hasn’t spent nights alone before. But tonight had been theirs. A night just for them.
They had been dancing.
Just swaying, side to side, arms wrapped around each other, no music except the soft hum of their breathing, the unspoken rhythm of their love. Maya had held her close, her breath warm against Carina’s temple, fingers drawing lazy patterns against the small of her back. There had been no rush, no urgency, just the quiet thrum of being together.
They had needed that.
For once, they had both hoped for no interruptions. Just good food, slow kisses, laughter that didn’t have to compete with the outside world. Maybe even some research —the kind that had nothing to do with the medical journal in her lap and everything to do with the way Maya’s hands knew her body like a well-read book.
But just like babies don’t wait for anybody, neither do fires.
So now, instead of Maya’s warmth pressed against her, she has the empty stretch of bed beside her. Instead of Maya’s voice whispering things against her skin, she has the steady, maddening silence of their room.
She sighs, rubbing a tired hand over her face before glancing at the phone on her nightstand.
No messages. No updates.
She knows her firefighter is out there doing what she does best. Being brave. Being reckless. Running into danger because that’s just who she is.
Carina hates it.
And loves it.
And hates it.
She presses her lips together, her fingers finding the smudge of lipstick again, tracing it like a prayer.
She closes her eyes, exhales.
“Come home to me, amore,” she whispers into the quiet.
What's the point of sleep if it's not with you?
Your lipstick on my cheek looking like a tattoo
My ballerina, sway me side to side
All I need is a little love and care tonight
Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh
Woah-ooh, oh-oh-oh, mmm-mmm-mmm
The sun is barely beginning to rise when the team finally exhales, the weight of the four-alarm fire settling behind them like a heavy cloak being shrugged off. The adrenaline, once sharp and all-consuming, is fading now, leaving exhaustion in its wake. But they’re still buzzing enough to talk, to laugh, to make plans that stretch beyond the firehouse.
“Joe’s tonight?” Hughes asks, rolling out her shoulders with a groan, her movements sluggish but practiced.
There’s a murmur of agreement—voices overlapping, nods exchanged, boots scuffing against pavement as they begin to shift from work mode to life mode. Then, almost in unison, they turn to Maya.
She knows the question before it’s asked.
“You in, Bishop?”
The old version of her—the one who used to chase every high, who used to drink just to avoid feeling—might have said yes without thinking. But now? Now, there’s only one place she wants to be.
She doesn’t hesitate. Just shakes her head with a small, knowing smile. “Can’t. Busy tonight.”
There’s some groaning, a few teasing complaints about how she’s always busy, but Maya only grins as she waves them off. They don’t understand.
She drives home with the windows cracked open, letting the cool morning air chase away the last remnants of smoke clinging to her skin. But her mind is already elsewhere. Already home.
When she steps inside their bedroom, the sight that greets her makes her pause, something warm and tender settling deep in her chest.
Her wife is curled up on Maya’s side of the bed, her dark hair spilling across the pillow, her breathing deep and even in sleep. She’s wearing one of Maya’s shirts—an old, soft one, stretched just a little in places, evidence of how often she’s stolen it.
God. She’s beautiful.
Maya leans against the doorway for a moment, just watching. Just letting herself soak in the quiet, in the way the early morning light kisses the brunette’s skin, in the way her lips part slightly with each slow inhale.
She could stand here forever.
But she doesn’t.
Instead, she moves toward her wife, careful and quiet, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I love you,” she murmurs, the words soft but firm, like they’re meant to hold something in place.
Carina stirs slightly, her brows knitting together in the way they always do when she’s shifting between sleep and wakefulness. But she doesn’t wake—not fully. Instead, she sighs, a soft, content sound, before settling deeper into the sheets.
Maya changes quickly. The shower at the station has already washed away the smoke and sweat, but it’s here, in their bedroom, in their bed, that she can finally shake off the weight of the night.
She slips under the covers, warmth immediately wrapping around her.
And then—Carina moves. Even in sleep, she reaches for Maya without hesitation, her body seeking hers like a magnet, like instinct. A sleepy hum escapes her lips as she curls into her, her face nuzzling against Maya’s shoulder, one hand slipping under the hem of her shirt to press against warm skin.
The firefighter smiles, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of her head and tightens her hold, breathing her in. She knows Carina is off today, so sue her for telling her friends she’s busy.
Her friends might think she’s missing out tonight, but they don’t get it.
She’s home with Carina.
That’s all she needs.
God is an artist
He put you on display
A masterpiece in motion, more beautiful every day
Gimme your love, and I'll give you mine
You're the reason I tell my friends I'm busy tonight
Sleep is always better when they’re together.
It doesn’t matter how long the day has been, how exhausting, how chaotic—Maya always sleeps deeper when Carina is wrapped around her, when the steady rhythm of her wife’s breathing syncs with her own. It’s grounding. It’s everything.
Which is why she’s already smiling when she feels Carina stir, a low groan slipping past her lips as she shifts against the sheets.
Then, a grumbled, sleep-heavy, “Ugh.”
Maya grins. Here we go.
“Babe…” she starts, tilting her head, amusement evident in her voice. “I think some of last night’s lipstick survived.”
Carina freezes for a beat. Then groans again, dropping her head onto Maya’s shoulder like the weight of the world is simply too much to bear.
Maya laughs, her fingers slipping into Carina’s hair, nails scratching lightly against her scalp in a way that usually earns her a soft sigh of contentment. But this morning, she only mutters something in Italian—low, unintelligible, but probably dramatic—before peeling herself off the bed and swinging her legs over the side.
“I’m taking a shower,” she announces, voice thick with sleep, her hand already coming up to rub at her face.
Maya barely waits a second before throwing the covers off. “Wait for me.”
Carina glances back, eyes still laced with sleep, but she doesn’t look surprised. She already knows what’s coming.
And she doesn’t protest.
Maya follows her into the bathroom, a mischievous glint in her blue eyes, and for a while, the world outside doesn’t exist.
Later, when they’re both warm and clean, when the rush of water has been replaced by the quiet hum of morning and robes, they find themselves in the kitchen.
Maya moves around the space easily, reaching for mugs, pouring coffee, the scent filling the air like something familiar, something safe. Carina leans against the counter, still soft around the edges from sleep, watching her with the kind of quiet affection that makes the heart of the blonde beat just a little faster.
For a moment, it’s just easy. Just them.
Then, without warning, Maya reaches for her phone, her fingers scrolling until she finds the song she’s looking for.
Carina looks up as the soft melody fills the kitchen, her brows lifting slightly. “What are you doing?”
Maya smirks, stepping closer, her hands already finding Carina’s waist. “Our dance got interrupted yesterday.” She tilts her head, eyes twinkling. “I’d like to continue.”
The doctor exhales a laugh, but she doesn’t hesitate. She doesn’t need to.
She lets her wife pull her in, their bodies falling into a slow, familiar sway.
Soft smiles. Whispered ti amo’s. Gentle laughter that fills the space between them like something sacred.
Maya twirls Carina once, just because she can.
And Carina lets her, just because she wants to.
The rest of the world can wait.
This is their little bubble. And neither of them want to leave it.
What's the point of sleep if it's not with you?
Your lipstick on my cheek looking like a tattoo
My ballerina, sway me side to side
All I need is a little love and care tonight
Oh-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh
Woah-ooh, oh-oh-oh, mmm-mmm-mmm
Maya leans against the doorway of their bedroom, arms crossed, watching as Carina moves around the room, getting ready for the day. She should be tired—hell, she is tired, the kind of exhaustion that settles deep in her bones—but none of it seems to matter when she’s looking at Carina.
Sunlight spills through the curtains, catching in her wife’s dark hair, kissing her skin with a golden glow. She’s wearing a simple summer dress, nothing fancy, but it doesn’t matter. Carina could be wearing an old sweatshirt and still be the most beautiful person Maya has ever seen.
And maybe it’s ridiculous, the way she still gets breathless, still gets caught up in the smallest details—the curve of Carina’s lips, the delicate way she tucks her hair behind her ear—but the blonde doesn’t care.
Carina glances at her reflection in the mirror, smoothing the fabric over her hips, before her gaze flickers up to meet blue eyes.
“Why are you staring at me like that?” she asks, amusement tugging at her lips.
Maya grins, stepping closer. “Because I can.”
Carina rolls her eyes, but the blush creeping up her neck gives her away. Maya slides her hands around the brunette’s waist, pulling her in, pressing a lingering kiss to the bare skin of her shoulder.
“You’re ridiculous,” Carina mutters, but she melts into the embrace all the same.
Maya hums against her skin. “And yet, you married me.”
“Clearly, I am the ridiculous one,” Carina teases, tilting her head back as Maya presses another kiss, this time against the delicate spot just below her ear.
The firefighter pulls back just enough to meet her gaze in the mirror. “If you ask me, it was the best decision of your life.”
Carina turns in her arms, hands sliding into silky blonde hair. “Oh yeah?”
Maya nods. “Yeah.”
Brown eyes study her for a long moment, something soft and unreadable in her expression, before she leans in, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to Maya’s lips.
And really, Maya thinks, she could stand here forever—wrapped up in this moment, in this woman, in this life they’ve built together.
Carina pulls back just enough to rest her forehead against Maya’s, her fingers tracing absentmindedly over her wife’s jaw.
“Lucky for you,” she murmurs, voice barely above a whisper, “I’m not going anywhere.”
Maya exhales, eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment, before she smiles.
“Good,” she whispers, pressing a final kiss to Carina’s lips, sealing the promise between them.
The world is your stage wherever you go
You know I'll always be right in the front row
Your love is a movie, my favorite show
You're my silver screen queen
My Marilyn Monroe
Maya smiles against her temple. “I don’t have work today”
Carina hums in agreement, pulling back just enough to meet her wife’s gaze. There’s something soft in her expression, something that lingers, and Maya recognizes it instantly—it’s the same way Carina looked at her on their wedding day, the same way she always looks at her when she thinks Maya isn’t paying attention.
It makes her heart flip in her chest, makes her want to press pause on the world and just exist in this moment a little longer.
The OB leans in, pressing a lingering kiss to the blonde’s lips before murmuring, “Are you hungry?”
Maya grins. “I mean, I was hoping for breakfast in bed, but this works too.”
Carina rolls her eyes, swatting at her shoulder before pulling the firefighter toward the kitchen. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You love me,” Maya counters easily, slipping onto a chair at the table.
Carina simply shoots her a look, but there’s no hiding the smile tugging at her lips.
The next few minutes pass in a comfortable rhythm—Carina moving through the kitchen with practiced ease, blue eyes watching her with the kind of quiet admiration she’ll never grow tired of. It’s simple, domestic, theirs.
Maya reaches for a grape just as Carina places a plate in front of her, but before she can take a bite, her phone buzzes from where it’s sitting on the table next to her.
She glances at the screen and sighs.
“Work?” Carina guesses, watching her.
Maya nods, silencing the notification before turning her attention back to her wife. “Yeah, but I’m ignoring it.”
Carina raises an eyebrow. “ Maya Bishop is ignoring work? Should I be worried?”
Maya smirks. “Nope. Maya DeLuca -Bishop just has more important things to focus on right now.”
The brunette shakes her head, but she doesn’t argue. Instead, she picks up her own fork, nudging Maya’s foot under the table. “Then eat, amore. Before your breakfast gets cold.”
And Maya does—because for once, she’s exactly where she’s meant to be.
What's the point of sleep if it's not with you?
Your lipstick on my cheek looking like a tattoo
My ballerina, sway me side to side
All I need is a little love and care tonight
Woah-oh-oh, oh-oh-oh, ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh
Woah-ooh, oh-oh-oh, mmm-mmm-mmm
They don’t leave the house for the rest of the day. There’s no need to.
They move from the kitchen to the bed, where Carina curls up with a book and Maya rests her head in her lap, half-listening as Carina reads aloud in Italian. Eventually, they migrate to the living room, where the afternoon sun filters through the windows, painting golden patterns across their skin.
It’s the kind of lazy, perfect day they don’t get often enough.
As the light begins to shift, Carina disappears in the kitchen and returns with her phone in hand, nudging Maya with her foot before sinking onto the couch beside her.
“Come here,” she murmurs, holding out the phone.
Maya raises an eyebrow but shifts closer, watching as her wife scrolls through the camera roll.
Their wedding photos.
Maya lets out a soft breath, a smile tugging at her lips as image after image flashes across the screen—Carina laughing mid-spin on the dance floor, Maya pulling her close with a grin, their hands entwined as they exchanged vows.
She leans in, pressing a kiss to Carina’s shoulder. “Feeling nostalgic?”
The doctor smiles, tilting her head to rest against her wife’s. “Always.”
Maya wraps an arm around her, pulling her in. “You know, if you wanted an excuse to look at me in a dress, you could’ve just asked.”
Carina laughs, swatting at her playfully before turning back to the screen. “You look very good in a dress.”
Maya smirks. “I know.”
Carina rolls her eyes, but she doesn’t argue.
Instead, she presses play on a video, and suddenly, they’re back in that moment—their first dance, the world around them fading as they swayed under the soft glow of string lights.
Maya watches as the camera captures the way Carina’s eyes never leave hers, the way her fingers tighten against Maya’s as if she’s afraid to let go.
It’s a love story in every frame.
Carina glances at her, voice soft. “Do you think we’ll always be like this?”
Maya turns, meeting her gaze. She doesn’t hesitate.
“Absolutely.”
Carina exhales, leaning in to kiss her—slow and sweet, like a promise.
And in that moment, Maya knows.
They’re not just watching a love story.
They’re living it.
Blue-eyed ballerina
God only knows how much I need ya
From day one, I knew you were the one