Work Text:
She’s married.
Maya DeLuca -Bishop.
She’s no longer Maya “Monogamy is for the weak” Bishop. No longer the woman who scoffed at the idea of forever, who rolled her eyes at commitment like it was some kind of trap.
She’s a wife now.
The word still feels foreign, like it doesn't quite belong to her yet. Like it’s something she has to earn, like she has to grow into it. But then Carina’s hand tightens in hers, grounding her, and she remembers—this is real. This is theirs.
She didn’t always believe they’d make it here.
Carina had to ask her twice for a drink, and even then, Maya had almost pushed her out of her office when all she had tried to do was offer her lasagna. And after that? God, she had messed up so many times—Jack, the walls she built, the stupid words she’d thrown like daggers when she was scared. And later, the way she panicked when Carina had to go back to Italy, when the fear of losing her had swallowed her whole and made her push instead of pull.
Yet here they are.
Dancing under string lights at the restaurant owned by Vic’s parents, her team surrounding them—her family. And she knows, logically, that they love Carina as much, if not more, than they love their captain. But they aren’t Carina’s people.
Maya tried. She planned every single part of this wedding, down to the tiniest details, like clipboard-Maya Bishop, DeLuca-Bishop, does. Every flower, every song, every moment was carefully considered. Okay, maybe not her dress. Maybe not her vows. But still, she planned. And the one thing she couldn’t make happen was for Carina’s people to be here.
Her mamma and brother were gone. Her father wasn’t invited in the first place. Gabriella was stuck in Italy, and nobody from the hospital could make it between COVID safety measures and chaotic schedules.
Carina had reassured her, more times than Maya could count, that it was fine. The last time was just this morning—soft hands cupping her face, brown eyes warm and unwavering. “I get to marry you, bambina. You’re all I need.”
They say, "The holy water's watered down
And this town's lost its faith
Our colors will fade eventually"
So, if our time is runnin' out
Day after day
We'll make the mundane our masterpiece
Maya had kissed her then, fiercely, because she didn’t know what else to do with all the love swelling in her chest. And now, as they sway together, as Carina’s arms settle around her waist and their bodies fit like they were made for this, Maya can’t believe how lucky she is.
The world disappears.
She doesn’t pay attention to the people around them, doesn’t care about the music or the chatter or anything beyond the woman in her arms.
It’s just her and Carina. Just her and her wife.
Why would she, when she can just look at her wife?
Oh my, my
Oh my, my love
I take one look at you
She’s married.
Carina DeLuca-Bishop is a married woman now.
She has always been against marriage. Against what it was designed for, what it meant. A stupid piece of paper that changed nothing. She married Maya the day she moved into her apartment, the day they decided that their lives were meant to intertwine.
But Maya cared. Maya wanted it—deeply, fiercely, in a way that made Carina’s chest ache. And when the choice was between losing her captain or getting married, well… marriage didn’t seem so bad.
Now, though, as she holds Maya close, as the warmth of her wife seeps into her skin, she realizes—this might have been the best decision of her life.
Because nothing has changed, not really. They will still wake up together every morning, tangled in sheets and warmth. Maya will still screw up the coffee, and Carina will still laugh and say, “You’ll get it one day, bambina.” Maya will still light up at the sight of lasagna, and she will still come home at odd hours, slipping into bed like a ghost, only to be pulled close by Carina’s waiting arms.
Blue eyes will find brown ones across the room, the OB will still tell her stubborn idiota to lay down and get rest when she’s sick. Carina will continue to fall asleep on the couch, in a wasted attempt to stay up until the firefighter gets home, and Maya will continue to pick her up and lay her down in their bed. And they will still get to do this until they’re dead and buried.
Maya will still be Maya. Stubborn, reckless, loving, hers.
And yet, something has changed. Because now, the world knows. Now, Carina gets to say, “This is my wife,” and hear Maya say, “This is my wife,” and God— she loves it.
She wants to make sure everyone knows. Wants to make people jealous, wants to shout at the sky that this woman is hers . That she gets to be the one Maya comes home to, the one Maya reaches for in the dark. That she is the one Maya trusts with the most fragile parts of herself, the one Maya lets in, the one Maya loves with the force of a wildfire.
She wants to tell the whole damn universe that Maya DeLuca-Bishop is her person.
And if marriage is what it takes to do that?
Well. It might just be the easiest sacrifice she’s ever made.
Because this is Maya.
Her love, the woman who holds her when she’s exhausted, who knows what she needs before she even asks. Her gold medal Olympian, the woman who looks at her like she hung the sun.
The woman who once, after Carina had said “you’re mine” and then started a panicked apology rant because “Maya, bambina, I didn’t mean, you’re your own person, and you’re not mine or my property, I just meant-”, stopped her with a kiss, cupped her face, and whispered, “I know, my love. You’re not mine and I’m not yours. We’re not property, we’re our own people. But for all that it matters? I am solely and utterly yours.”
And Carina had melted. Had fallen, all over again.
Her Maya.
She wants to make sure everybody knows. Wants to make the whole damn world jealous that she—Carina DeLuca-Bishop—found this woman, that they found this love. A love so out of the ordinary, so breathtakingly perfect that even the angels must be envious.
She wants to yell at the clouds, at the stars, at the universe itself, that she is the one who gets to give Maya a place to rest. That she is the one who gets to kiss her, to worship her, to love her like tomorrow doesn’t exist.
Because Maya is the one who can do it all—make her feel loved, seen, understood in a way no one else ever has. The one who can shatter her with a single touch, unravel her until she’s nothing but a puddle in her arms, whisper the exact words she needs to hear, always .
And yes, Maya holds the power to destroy her too. To undo her, to shatter her with a single touch, to reduce her to dust with the same hands that make her whole.
But that’s a risk Carina will gladly take. Every single time.
Because she gets Maya.
And as long as Maya is by her side, what else could she possibly want?
You're takin' me out of the ordinary
I want you layin' me down 'til we're dead and buried
I'm on the edge of your knife, stayin' drunk on your vine
The angels up in the clouds are jealous knowin' we found
Somethin' so out of the ordinary
You got me kissin' thе ground of your sanctuary
Shatter me with your touch, oh Lord, return mе to dust
The angels up in the clouds are jealous knowin' we found
How Maya had ever lived before Carina, she didn’t know.
To be fair, she never really lived—not as a child, not as a teenager, not even as an adult. At least, not in the way that mattered. Hell, the most living she did before Carina were her Self-Care Wednesdays.
Her days were just filled with routines and clipboards, structure and control. And she still likes that—thrives on it, even. But now, she also loves the spontaneity Carina brings. The love, the warmth, the freedom.
The way Carina still sings in the kitchen, even when she butchers the lyrics. How she insists on feeding Maya bites of whatever she’s cooking, as if Maya wouldn’t willingly eat anything she makes anyway. The way Carina always steals the blankets at night, only to throw them back over Maya in her sleep, muttering something soft and unintelligible. And no matter how annoying Maya finds it some days, she loves that Carina leaves half-full cups of tea all over the house, forgotten the second she gets distracted by something more important.
Some days, it seems like simply breathing is enough for Carina to take Maya’s breath away.
And now— now —she gets to call Carina her wife.
She gets to care for her. Love her. Worship her. Wake up beside her every day and know she is loved, just as she is.
Because Carina saw her—truly saw her—long before Maya could even begin to see herself. And piece by piece, with love and patience and that impossible, boundless warmth, she helped Maya become this woman.
A woman who knows love. A woman who chooses love.
A woman who finally knows what it means to live.
Hopeless hallelujah
On this side of Heaven's gate
Oh, my life, how do ya
Breathe and take my breath away?
At your altar, I will pray
You're the sculptor, I'm the clay
She’s a wife.
Holy shit.
Carina is her wife.
Oh my, my
All her life, Maya had been made to feel ordinary—like nothing she ever did was good enough. Like she was just another person trying, failing, proving, fighting.
But now, walking up to their apartment door with Carina, her wife, she can’t help but smile.
“I love you.”
Carina squeezes her hand, eyes full of warmth. “And I love you, bella. What’s making you smile like that?”
Maya exhales softly, shaking her head in disbelief. “We’re here. We’re just—we’re here. And you are so perfect, Carina. God, you just—you took me out of the ordinary. You make me feel like I’m so much more.”
They’re at the door now, she doesn’t pay much attention as she unlocks and opens the door, her blue eyes focused on her wife.
Carina cups her cheek, thumb brushing lightly over her skin. “You’re amazing, Maya. I didn’t do anything—you’ve been extraordinary all on your own.”
But Maya just leans in, pressing a fierce kiss to Carina’s lips. Words aren’t enough right now. Not enough to express her love, how grateful she is—none of it.
So she does what she knows best. She sweeps Carina off her feet, lifting her effortlessly, carrying her across the threshold. Carina laughs—bright, unfiltered joy—before Maya sets her down, closes the door, and kisses her again.
Then Carina’s the one pushing her against the door, hands firm at Maya’s hips as Maya tangles her fingers into soft curls. They’re breathless, but neither wants to stop. She steps back, pulling Maya with her, still kissing her as they move toward the bedroom. And when they reach the bed, she turns them around, pushing the captain down onto the mattress with a smirk.
And all Maya can think is how she wants this forever. Just her and Carina, for the rest of their lives. Till they’re dead and buried, until there’s nothing left of them but this love they’ve built.
Her gold medal, her captaincy, her team, her family—she’d give it all up for Carina.
She wants to scream into the clouds that they’ve had their time. That she doesn’t need to escape into the sky anymore, doesn’t need to look for rest in the clouds, because she has Carina now.
Her wife will keep her safe. Will give her a place to rest.
They’ve built something incredible, they found a love so out of the ordinary that Maya still can’t always believe it’s hers. Maya “monogamy is for the weak” Bishop—now DeLuca-Bishop—has found love. Has found her person. Has learned how to love, how to rest, how to find peace in this life.
And she doesn’t worship many people. But she worships her wife.
Her perfect, brilliant, beautiful wife.
The one she’d get on her knees for in a heartbeat.
But right now, all her thoughts turn to puddles as Carina’s hands shatter her with a single touch.
She’ll show her wife just how much she loves her later.
Right now? Carina is proving to be her weakness. Because she knows every weakness—knows how to undo her, how to unravel her, how to make her feel loved, seen, understood in a way no one else ever has.
Carina holds the power to destroy her, too. To undo her, to shatter her with a single touch, to reduce her to dust with the same hands that make her whole.
But that’s a risk Maya will gladly take. Every single time.
Because she gets Carina.
And as long as Carina is by her side, what else could she possibly want?
You're takin' me out of the ordinary
I want you layin' me down 'til we're dead and buried
I'm on the edge of your knife, stayin' drunk on your vine
The angels up in the clouds are jealous knowin' we found
Somethin' so out (Out) of the ordinary (Ordinary)
You got me kissing the ground (Ground) of your sanctuary (Sanctuary)
Shatter me with your touch, oh Lord, return me to dust
The angels up in the clouds are jealous knowin' we found
For a minute, the only sound in the room is heavy breathing.
Then Carina turns her head on the pillow, eyes sparkling as she takes in the smile stretched wide across her wife’s face. She lets out a soft laugh.
“You look so happy, bambina.”
Maya tilts her head, grinning like she’s the luckiest person alive. “How could I not be? You’re my wife.” Carina hums, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the blonde’s lips. “Dio, I love you,” she groans with a smile.
They sink deeper into the sheets, tangled together, their fingers tracing lazy circles on each other’s skin. Neither of them wants to move. Neither of them needs to.
Because this is it.
Maya always thought in facts. A or B. Win or lose. Structure, precision, control. But she was never truly happy.
And now? Now look at her.
Lying next to Carina, her lighthouse in the dark.
She didn’t think she’d ever find this—to learn how to rest, how to sleep, how to love.
But with her wife, she doesn’t need the clouds for that at all.
She just needs her.
Somethin' so heavenly, higher than ecstasy
Whenever you're next to me, oh my, my
World was in black and white until I saw your light
I thought you had to die to find
They’re married.
Maya and Carina DeLuca-Bishop.
The name still feels new, still sends a shiver down Maya’s spine every time she hears it. Every time she says it.
They’re in the kitchen, moving in sync—a well-rehearsed dance, muscle memory from countless evenings spent together. Maya chops basil, Carina stirs the sauce, the scent of tomatoes and garlic thick in the air.
The firefighter sneaks a glance at her, her wife .
“I still can’t believe it,” she murmurs, shaking her head with a soft laugh. Carina quirks an eyebrow. “Can’t believe what?”
“That we’re married. That this—” she gestures between them, between the way their hands brush as they move, “—is real. I love you. I love us . I love what we found.”
Carina smiles, warm, knowing. “So do I, bambina. What is the word you used before? Ordinary? Our love is out of the ordinary.”
Maya exhales a soft laugh, but no more words come. They aren’t needed. Carina sees it all—feels it all. So instead, she closes the space between them, tilts Maya’s chin up, and kisses her, slow and deep, a promise sealed between their lips.
And yes, maybe nothing has truly changed. They still share a bed, will still steal kisses between shifts, and they will still come home to each other no matter how chaotic, terrifying, and unpredictable the world is.
And yet—it has changed.
There’s a piece of paper now. A piece of paper Carina never thought she’d care about. But it mattered to Maya. So it mattered to her, to them.
It’s a promise, inked in permanence, that says they’ll lay down together until they’re dead and buried. That whatever this life throws at them, they’re in it together.
Forever, and of course there is risk in love, there always is.
It’s in the way they reach for each other despite the possibility of loss. In the way Maya runs headfirst into fire, and Carina steps into exam rooms, never knowing if the next patient will break her heart.
But the risk doesn’t matter.
Because Maya is the oxygen in Carina’s lungs, and Carina is the ground beneath Maya’s feet.
No one has ever understood the blonde like the doctor does. No one else has ever touched her heart, her soul, her very being like this. She would risk everything to keep Carina safe.
And Carina—Carina is just as addicted. Just as helpless against this pull, this undeniable gravity that is Maya Bishop, DeLuca-Bishop.
They could lose everything, and still, it would be enough.
Because they have each other, and that’s all they’ll ever truly need.
The cooking resumes—soft laughter filling the kitchen, the rhythmic clatter of the knife against the cutting board, the simmering pot releasing the rich aroma of garlic and tomatoes into the air. Maya steals a kiss from Carina’s shoulder as she stirs the sauce, and Carina hums in approval, nudging her gently with her hip.
Steam curls from the pan, the water for the pasta bubbles, and the warmth of home wraps around them like a second skin.
Until Maya’s hand slows.
The blade of the knife hovers just above the cutting board, fingers slack around the handle as her thoughts drift, pulling her somewhere else—somewhere distant, somewhere heavy.
Carina, mid-stir, glances up just in time to see her wife’s posture change—shoulders subtly slumping, lips parting like there’s a weight pressing against her chest.
“Maya?”
She doesn’t answer right away, blinking back to the present, shaking her head slightly as if to clear it. Her fingers tighten around the knife before she exhales and sets it down carefully, leaning on the cutting board.
Carina frowns, placing the spoon down and turns the stove off before stepping closer. “What’s wrong?”
Maya lets out a small, forced chuckle. “Nothing, just thinking.”
The brunette tilts her head, unconvinced. She knows Maya—knows the way her mind works, the way she tries to hide behind easy shrugs and nonchalant smiles. So she just waits.
Because Maya might try to deflect, but Carina is her wife. And she always sees right through her.
She watches as Maya’s gaze flickers upward, toward the ceiling. She doesn’t need to ask what she’s looking for. Who she’s looking for, because she knows, she knows that Maya is looking at the clouds. That even when there’s a ceiling in the way, sometimes looking up is all that her wife needs to see them, the clouds.
The ones that whispered to her, beckoned her, promised her escape. The ones she used to run to when the weight of the world was too much. The ones that still linger at the edges of her mind, waiting for a moment of weakness.
Until the blue eyed woman swallows, her voice quiet but unwavering. “I found this. I found something so out of the ordinary, something they could never give me.” Her voice softens, but the emotion in it only grows stronger. “I found a love so big, so all-consuming, so terrifyingly perfect that I still don’t know what I did to deserve it. But I get to wake up next to it. I get to hold it, kiss it, be loved by it. I get you.”
She exhales, blinking back the emotion swelling in her chest.
“You are my home, Carina. My safest place. My sanctuary.”
A shaky laugh, barely there.
“I used to think I belonged to the clouds. That maybe I’d disappear into it one day, just let it take me.” She shakes her head, reaching for Carina’s hand, squeezing tight. “But the clouds have nothing on you.”
She steps closer, voice no more than a whisper now.
“You ground me. You make me want to be here. With you. For as long as this life lets me.”
Carina’s lips part, eyes glistening, emotions crashing into her all at once. There aren’t words big enough to respond to that. Nothing grand enough to hold what she feels for Maya.
So she doesn’t try.
She moves.
Steps in, presses her hands to Maya’s waist, and pushes her back against the fridge.
The firefighter lets out a soft gasp, but her wife is already kissing her—fierce, desperate, consuming. Carina’s hands slide up, tangling into blonde hair, fingers gripping just enough to ground them both. And Maya melts into her—into the heat, into the way Carina’s touch unravels her, shatters her, leaves her breathless.
With lips, with hands, with the weight of devotion so fierce it aches.
Carina’s hands move down until her fingers press into Maya’s hips, grounding her even as she takes her apart. A slow, deliberate claim. Then, with practiced ease, she slides her leg between Maya’s, her thigh pressing up, igniting something electric beneath Maya’s skin.
The blonde gasps against Carina’s mouth, knees buckling as pleasure spikes through her. She clings to Carina, fingers tangled in dark waves, needing her closer, needing more.
“Oh god.”
It’s a plea. A confession. A surrender.
And the doctor knows it, but she still smirks, she still can’t help but move her hand to Maya’s chin, her thumb on the blonde’s bottom lip as she tilts her head up. Blue eyes filled with love and lust staring right back at her, “That’s not my name Bella, and you know I don’t share.”
The only answer she’ll get is being reduced to nothing, because she barely finishes her sentence before kissing the firefighter again, before reducing her wife to dust, to a puddle in her arms.
Maya doesn’t mind much, and even if she did, she knows she’s the one who can turn Carina into a puddle too.
Because this—this love, this worship, this surrender—is theirs.
Just theirs.
She can feel Carina’s hands pulling her away from the fridge, feels Carina pulling away, her feet already moving towards the bedroom. And she can’t help but feel so lucky.
Maya lets out a soft, broken laugh, a tear slipping down her cheek as she pulls on her wife’s hand, pulls her back to her and cups Carina’s face.
Her wife’s hand is already moving to her face, to wipe the tear away with her thumb.
Maya smiles, breathless, so unbelievably grateful to be here. To be alive. To be married.
“I love you.”
“And I love you."
To have found this love.
She presses her forehead against Carina’s, voice barely above a whisper.
“It’s ours. Just ours.”
Somethin' so out of the ordinary
I want you laying me down 'til we're dead and buried
I'm on the edge of your knife, stayin' drunk on your vine
The angels up in the clouds are jealous knowin' we found
Somethin' so out (Out) of the ordinary
You got me kissing the ground (Ground) of your sanctuary (Sanctuary)
Shatter me with your touch, oh Lord, return me to dust
The angels up in the clouds are jealous knowin' we found