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Something smelled good.
Miorine rolled over in bed, taking a second to bask in the sunbeams filtering through the blinds before fully waking up. She was sorely lacking in wife kisses that morning, but something told her that that could be remedied in short order. Judging by what woke her up, she just had to get up and head to the kitchen.
After pulling herself together and making a quick stop at the bathroom, she strolled into the kitchen, her beautiful wife hard at work at the stove. Food could wait, though. “Pay the toll,” she said, putting on a deep and bratty pout as she stomped up to her.
Suletta looked positively ecstatic as she turned to face Miorine, dropping a spatula next to the stove and pulling her into a hug. That hug quickly developed into a kiss, which developed into several more and finally an ass grab.
Miorine pulled the two of them apart, flicking Suletta on the forehead. “You’re excited this morning,” she scoffed, peering past her to check out what was in the skillet. Two strips of fake bacon (‘facon’ as Suletta so adorably called it) with an egg frying on top of them, one for each of them. It had practically become her signature dish ever since they saw someone do that in an anime years ago.
“You just looked really cute,” Suletta told her, plating things up on top of thick slices of toast next to a few lightly charred slices of tomato. “Are you hungry?”
She scoffed, taking a seat at the table. “After last night? I’m starving.”
Suletta huffed, cheeks darkening just a bit. “I woke up tired, you know. Acting like that on a weeknight…”
Miorine shrugged, digging into breakfast as soon as the plate was in front of her. “I tried to stop plenty of times, but you kept asking for more. My hands were ti-, well, poor choice of words considering you were-”
“Miorine-san!” she squealed, lightly kicking her under the table. “You’re…” She was clearly trying hard not to default to ‘sex-crazed’ as both of them often did. “...insatiable.”
“It’s hard not to be,” she replied, smirking as she shoved a stacked slice of egg/facon/toast/tomato into her mouth. “I’m excited. It’s almost ten years now.”
Suletta was positively giddy, dropping her utensils to cover her mouth. “It’s really, really exciting,” she whispered, trying her hardest to hold back a shriek. “ Our anniversary...one more month…”
Miorine couldn’t keep from laughing, patting Suletta on the head. “Relax or you’ll pass out.”
“I’ve been married to Miorine-san for ten years,” she continued, vibrating in her seat. “It makes me so happy.”
No matter how many times she thought about it, Miorine still couldn’t figure out how she’d gotten so lucky. By all accounts, Suletta was (objectively speaking) utterly perfect. Against all odds, that perfect little ball of sunshine had chosen her to be her wife independent of the people or systems that tried to take that choice out of her hands. She could have anyone, and yet she wanted her.
It just made no sense, but it was hardly the first time she’d been stumped by Suletta. Maybe she didn’t need to understand, though. The most important part was that she’d continue to do her best to return even a fraction of that endless love the giggly mess across from her showed her every day. Ten years down, hopefully many more to go.
“Your food’s getting cold, you know,” Miorine said. Hypocrite that she was, she’d spent the last minute or so gazing at Suletta instead of eating.
T his finally seemed to snap her out of her lovey-dovey trance, Suletta quickly shoveling several forkfuls into her mouth. “Uhm, by’a way,” she mumbled, stopping long enough to swallow before continuing, “I made you lunch, too.”
“You complain about being tired only to make a banquet before I even get up?” Miorine scoffed.
Suletta gave a bashful laugh. “Well, a lot of it’s...leftovers from dinner. Sorry.”
“Ah, and you want to apologize for making all of it for me, too.”
“Well, I...I mean…” Suletta puffed out her cheeks. “You’re confusing me on purpose,” she grumbled.
“You just look too cute when you’re confused,” Miorine argued. “What am I meant to do? Stop teasing you?”
S uletta turned up her nose, wordlessly continuing her meal. She was always so cute when she got like that. She’d long-since learned that any possible response she could come up with would just be fodder for more teasing.
This time, though, she seemed to have kept an ace up her sleeve. “I haven’t told Sabina where you hide them yet, you know.”
Miorine tensed instantly. “You didn’t have to,” she said, doing her best not to let her composure falter too much. “She already took all of them on your orders.”
“No, the others,” Suletta told her calmly. “I know you have extra noodles hidden so that she couldn’t take all of them.”
“How did-” She stopped herself, realizing too late that she’d already lost the second she started the battle. Developing blood pressure problems was such a pain in the ass. Now everyone kept telling her to watch her sodium, completely ignoring that salt was why things tasted good. Why couldn’t she have a little treat every so often?
“It’s okay since I made you lunch,” Suletta insisted, smiling cheerily. “Now you don’t have to eat any of them, right?”
With a heavy sigh, she nodded. “I won’t forgive you if you rat me out, though.”
“Thank you!” Suletta squeaked, rubbing it in in her own subtle way. “Oh, and, um...my fingers are a little...bad this morning.”
“Do you need help with something?” she asked. It was less common these days, but mobility issues still remained.
“Maybe with buttoning things,” Suletta told her. “Buttoning is a little too much right now, I think.”
An excuse to feel up her wife first thing in the morning? As if she needed any more motivation. “Of course,” Miorine said, polishing off the rest of her food.
It was a rather uneventful day at the office. A few calls, checking the progress on their latest prototypes, writing a few checks. In other words, the usual.
Lunch, though, was poised to be quite a bit better than the norm. Suletta had, of course, made her something to eat, Miorine opening up a n insulated container to see what it was. The smell alone made her mouth water, recognizing it immediately as last night’s curry and some rice.
Attached to the lid of the box, though, was a yellow stick y note. Dozens of tiny, slightly wobbly hearts surrounded the message written at its center: “Do your best! Miorine-san #1!”
Miorine clenched her fists so hard her knuckles turned white, banging one on her desk. She was shaking from head to toe. What else was she to do after seeing something like that?
In as serious a voice as she could muster, she proclaimed, “ I’m not letting her out of bed for two days.”