The early light crept in slow and golden, spilling through the gauzy curtains to paint soft, warm patterns across the floorboards. The air was heavy with the scent of the night before, the earthy trace of the savannah breeze mingled with skin-warmed linen and the unmistakable closeness of two bodies.

Bette stirred first, her muscles deliciously sore, every inch of her body humming with the memory of Tina’s touch. The blonde was still wrapped around her, head nestled in the crook of her shoulder, one bare leg tangled over hers, and fingertips lazily tracing light, absent-minded circles against the curve of her stomach. Neither of them moved for a while, lost in the quiet rhythm of shared breath, the world outside momentarily distant.

Tina shifted just enough to press a slow, lingering kiss to Bette’s collarbone, her lips soft, trailing along her shoulder and up the length of her neck with a tenderness that sent a ripple of heat through Bette all over again.

“Morning,” Tina whispered against her skin, her voice low and still heavy with sleep.

Bette turned her head, brushing her mouth against Tina’s, tasting the familiar sweetness of her lips. “Morning,” she murmured back, the simple word wrapped in gratitude. Her hand slid along Tina’s bare back, fingertips gliding over the curve of her spine, pulling her in closer until their bodies fit flush again, as if no time had passed between them at all.

Tina let out a soft sigh, her nose brushing against Bette’s cheek, as she tilted her hips ever so slightly, pressing into her with an unmistakable invitation. The world beyond their bed could wait a little longer. Their hands moved slowly, relearning the landscape of each other, both savouring the unspoken comfort of this reconnection.

Bette’s lips travelled to the corner of Tina’s mouth, then along her jaw, her voice a low murmur. “I’ve missed this,” she whispered.

Tina’s answer was a quiet hum, threading her fingers into Bette’s hair, keeping her close as she pressed her forehead to hers. “Me too,” she breathed. “I don’t want to let go yet.”

Neither did. They lingered, caught in that quiet, suspended moment, warmth and want weaving between them, the soft rustle of sheets and the distant chorus of morning birds filling the room. The world outside felt lightyears away, until a faint, familiar sound finally reached them: the soft, drowsy coo of Angelica waking from her crib in the next room.