#dang I really thought the engagement chapter was fluffy this is something else ENTIRELY thank u for the request anon!!!

[phantompearlsalt]

Sour Cherry, Chapter 8

Here it is folks!! That sweet domestic bliss so many of y’all craved 💜 It was very interesting writing this but I still had a blast — it’s quite different from chapter 7 so brace yourselves. I will also note this one is distinct in that it’s more of a modern!AU setting so no bending or LoK elements at all, really. It was fun doing something so different! Lastly, make sure you have these songs queued up in case you want to play them as you reach those parts of the chapter 😉 And lastly, quick content warning for folks reading on here: there’s mention of cooking, food, but not eating! Feel free to check this out on AO3 too okay this is long: ENJOY!! 

There was a time in your life when you believed you would never have this: the comforting rustle of warm bed sheets against your toes, the muffled song of birds just outside your window, and the solid presence of Kuvira’s slumbering body beside your own. 

As you gradually blink into consciousness, you come to the pleasant realization that it’s Saturday. For the first time in weeks, you have nowhere to be and neither does Kuvira so you allow yourself to savor the rare and welcome contentment of a lazy morning in bed. 

You feel a faint tickle graze the nape of your neck and you realize that Kuvira is fast asleep, her arm strung loosely across your waist. Shifting carefully so as not to wake her, you move until your back is against the mattress and you can tilt your face to the side. Kuvira’s fingers twitch for a moment but she remains unperturbed by the slight motion, her jaw still slack. 

Given the bustling nature of her schedule, and her own no-nonsense disposition, there is always an element of tension present in Kuvira’s features. She’s still too young to have any significant wrinkles but during the day you never fail to notice the thin grooves around her mouth and along her forehead. Even when she’s not totally ensnared in the commotion of her job, she is rarely one to exude a sense of calm around others. It isn’t quite stress either but it’s certainly imposing.

When Kuvira sleeps, she is in her most vulnerable state. Every ounce of strain she carries in her body vanishes entirely, replaced with the weight of loosened limbs and heavy eyelids. Her brow relaxes completely, sometimes her mouth parts open and air will whistle through, her hair falls over her face in a curtain of vibrant black, and her shoulders sink freely into the downy comfort of your mattress.

Sometime in the distant past, you had believed a moment like this to be too out of reach. Too idealistic or picturesque. But as you gaze upon the beauty of this simple sight, understanding the depth of Kuvira’s trust that has allowed you to witness this side of her, you are overtaken by just how much your life has changed since you met Kuvira and how intensely you have grown to love her.

The sun has fully emerged outside and the rays start filtering through your gossamer curtains, casting a lovely golden glow across Kuvira’s face. You know she’ll start to stir within moments as the light starts to fall across her eyes so you treasure each remaining moment you have left like this. Gently, you lift your arm from beneath the bedsheets and let your hand cover hers.

It doesn’t take long for her to awaken after that — a handful of minutes pass before she makes a soft sound and her eyelids start to flicker open. Her gaze roams across the adjacent wall, slightly disoriented, before finally turning to focus on you. She blinks once and a muted smile tugs at the edges of her mouth.

“Good morning,” she murmurs. This time, you twist around so you’re on your side and you can twine your legs with hers. “Good morning to you,” you respond with a grin, cupping her cheek with your palm. “Looks like someone slept well.” Kuvira hums contentedly, stretching her arms high above her head.

“It’s been a while since I’ve been able to,” she says. “Yeah well, ridiculous work hours will really do that to a woman,” you tease. She gives you a withering glance which makes you burst into giggles, pulling her face towards yours so you can press a kiss against her forehead. “I’m not actually gonna kiss you until I can brush my teeth,” you inform her when you notice the expectant look on her face. “Then I suggest we do so immediately,” she replies promptly.

However, she proceeds to wrap an arm over your shoulder and tuck you against her chest, sinking her fingers into your hair as you brush your lips over her throat. For a moment you are tempted to point out the contradiction but you are far too delighted to actually do it. Though you cherish every morning you have with Kuvira, ones like these feel particularly special because of their rarity. Between her professional engagements and your own commitments, your mornings together are often hurried and fleeting.

So right now, with Kuvira’s arms encircling your body and your senses saturated by her scent and warmth, you want to hold onto this for as long as you can.

But of course, her arm starts falling asleep and your face gets too hot so you reluctantly pull away and fall into your habitual morning activities. You take a moment to stretch and crack away the stiffness of your joints while Kuvira messily clips her hair behind her neck before entering the bathroom where you’ll eventually join her.

The next few minutes pass in a rush of running water, toothpaste, and soap bubbles. You head back into the room to make your bed while Kuvira slides the glass pane open and a gust of brisk wind rushes through. As you slide into one of Kuvira’s old sweaters, you join her by the window. “I’ll go get our tea started, okay?” you say, touching your hand to her shoulder.

She nods once before responding, “Before you go.” Kuvira slips her fingers between yours before gently tugging you forward and bringing your lips together in a sleepy kiss. You let your arms wrap around her shoulders and you smile against the touch, feeling the tips of your ears grow red and your belly tingle with excitement. When you break apart, Kuvira watches you silently with a tender expression that heightens the emotion already rushing through your veins.

The longer you stay by her side, the more you find yourself feeling less inclined to leave so you quickly peck her on the mouth before scuttling out while she chuckles behind you.

Once you’re in the kitchen you quickly get to work on brewing your tea, relishing the sensation of sunlight falling across your back. As the water begins to boil on the stove, you push the window open and sigh at the burst of crisp air that follows. You detect the unmistakable scent of morning dew and realize it drizzled overnight. Getting on your tiptoes, you notice the plants outside are glossed over with a fine layer of moisture. It’s nearly a scene directly out of a film.

Finally your water is ready and you begin steeping Kuvira’s favorite oolong leaves, flicking on the radio and humming along to the entrancing melodies of the jazz station you have both grown so fond of. You’re pouring into your respective cups when a familiar set of arms curl around you from behind. Grinning, you place the pot down and lean back into Kuvira’s embrace. “I’ve missed this,” you sigh, suddenly forgetting about the steaming beverages as you feel a tickle swell inside your chest and your ribs.

“I have too,” she responds quietly, tightening her hold infinitesimally as she leans down to brush her lips against your cheekbone. “I know it’s been some time since we’ve been able to do this and...it’s nice. I didn’t realize how much I missed it myself.” You succumb to the enticement of that magical silence you only experience with Kuvira, allowing your body to press deeper against her chest until you can feel the heavy thrum of her heart.

Eventually, you have to step away when your stomach growls and you offer her the piping cup of tea. “Drink some of this and please be careful this time. Last time you burned your tongue you whined about it for a week.” Kuvira glares at you, unimpressed, which naturally makes you laugh. “Once you’re through with that, you can get started on chopping these up.” You push the bag of potatoes on the counter towards her and she inspects it apprehensively.

“Are you sure you trust me with that?” Kuvira asks over the rim of her teacup. “You know for someone who manages to scare almost everyone at her job, you’d think you could handle cutting some potatoes…” you sigh, earning a delightfully petty snort from Kuvira. You grin while smoothing her hair down against her head and press a chaste kiss to her nose. “You just have to get them into little cubes. Leave the actual cooking to me,” you chuckle. Kuvira still doesn’t look entirely convinced but she eventually picks up a knife from a drawer and carefully begins slicing the vegetables.

After sipping through about half your tea and admiring the stern look of concentration on Kuvira’s face, you join her and the music emanating from your small radio is soon accompanied by the clicking of knives and robust scent of onion, peppers, and garlic. There is a pleasant, unspoken dynamic between you and Kuvira that you’ve come to cherish, where you can merely exist together without the expectation of filling the space with frivolous conversation. If anything, you actually talk quite a bit on most days as a way to decompress from the exigencies of your respective work lives.

When you finally have the time to luxuriate in the freedom of an empty schedule, you allow yourselves to fully bask in that simple yet compelling joy of being in the other person’s presence.

Once your ingredients are properly diced and washed, you begin assembling everything which really just entails Kuvira tossing the cubes into the skillet while you sprinkle a variety of spices for good measure. Your fingers occasionally brush together as you lean over the stove and each time you see the apples of Kuvira’s face lift from the corner of your eye.

“You know, I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this,” she notes. You snort and lovingly squeeze her hand before you start mixing everything together. “C’mon Kuvira, it’s been what? Over a year? I feel like I make this every other week so I wouldn’t get too confident about that. Give it a few more months and you’ll probably be gagging at the sight of sautéed vegetables.”

She moves towards your back and slides her hand down your arm until it rests over yours, temporarily pausing the stirring motion. “While I’m certainly not complaining about your exceptional breakfast-making skills, that’s not quite what I’m referring to. I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this.” The words sweep along your ear and you feel a wave of goosebumps appear all across your flesh.

“Just being here, with you. I will never, ever tire of this,” she whispers against your neck. The words evoke a low hum in your ears as your blood rushes harder until the ringing feels like it’s sinking into your bones. You feel as though you have lost all coordination of your limbs, instead feeling them thrum with the wondrous glow of infatuation and only tethered down by the reassuring weight of Kuvira’s touch.

It still surprises you how these seemingly innocuous statements can unleash such an intense surge of emotion. Perhaps it’s because Kuvira isn’t the most eloquent when it comes to voicing her affections so when she does it’s particularly moving. Or perhaps it’s the shock of knowing another human being can love you as deeply as Kuvira does when you once found it impossible to conceive of such an idea.

Perhaps it’s a combination of the two and a million other things but you don’t dwell on that too long. At this moment in time, it doesn’t matter. Instead, you ground yourself in the steady and soothing warmth of Kuvira’s body and wiggle around until you can face her.

Kuvira lifts her hands to nestle your face between them, as if you might shatter into pieces with just the slightest movement, and presses her lips reverently against your forehead. “I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but our breakfast is about one minute away from burning to a crisp,” she states.

Your attention returns to the skillet in a flurry of flailing arms and nonsensical shouting while Kuvira merely observes in silent amusement. Luckily, you manage to save your meal and remove it from the heat at just the right moment. A hearty aroma of crisp potatoes and caramelized onions wafts through the air and you feel your stomach rumble again.

Just as you are sliding the food onto your platters, an all-too familiar melody chimes from the radio that brings your movements to a sudden halt. Faraway memories hit you all at once and very quickly. You only see glimpses of the images as they flash through your mind in bursts of vivid colors and fuzzy sounds.

Old timey photographs framed against paisley walls. Duke Ellington, Ella Fitzgerald, Wes Montgomery.

Hazy shadows twirling beneath dim golden lights. The carefree ripple of a skirt lifting in the air and jewelry glistening against a perspiring body.

The shuffle and snap of shoes sliding against a red-tiled floor. The clink of a heel tapping to the beat of a muted drum.

Kuvira’s hand resting confidently on your lower back, patiently guiding you through the movements, while another presses against your palm.

A distinctive voice croons, “The very thought of you/ And I forget to do/ Those little ordinary things/ That everyone ought to do…”

You are dragged out of your trance by the same touch you felt all those months ago. Kuvira pulls you away from the counter, the plates of steaming food now completely forgotten, and her eyes glitter with quiet mirth.

“Do you remember this song?” she asks quietly while she brings you close against her. Your muscles freeze and you chuckle nervously. “I do but, uh, you and I both know I’m not the ex-professional dancer here,” you remind her.

Kuvira merely shrugs, leaning down to press her forehead against yours. “Just follow my lead,” she murmurs. She moves her hands from your waist to gently take your wrists and wrap your fingers around the back of her neck. She snakes her palms along your arms and down your sides until they return to their original position, resting against the small patch at the base of your spine.

The ensuing steps are so simple it barely constitutes a dance at all but you still can’t hinder the raging blush that seems to radiate across every inch of your skin. Kuvira is rarely one to initiate exchanges of this nature so when she does your body reacts accordingly.

It’s not so much a dance as it is simply swaying back and forth, occasionally stepping backwards but never once splitting away from Kuvira. Your eyes flutter closed again and you burrow your face in the crook of her neck.

“I see your face in every flower Your eyes in stars above It's just the thought of you The very thought of you, my love”

You feel as though you have fallen into a field of flowers yourself. This moment...it’s the exhilarating rush of being pulled to the ground and the blissful recognition of falling into a perfumed refuge of velvety petals. As you rest your head against Kuvira, you inhale her fresh, earthy scent that is so reminiscent of the misty air outside. In your mind, the kitchen disappears entirely and your home dissipates into a rosy mist.

Instead, you find yourself in your own dimension where everything is concentrated in this very moment. Gravity is the touch of Kuvira’s hands against your hips and air is her breath mingling with yours. In this juncture of time and space, you are the only two beings in the universe. In this little cluster of minutes far away from the rest of the world, your only thoughts are on the simple movements of your feet, the graceful way Kuvira floats you across the ground, and the overpowering truth of how profoundly you love her.

The song eventually fades away into another tune, slowly bringing you back to the present moment. Kuvira’s hands haven’t left your body and you don’t make any move to break the embrace. Breakfast lays utterly forgotten and you imagine it’s gone cold. But it doesn’t matter. Not right now.

Within moments you find yourselves calmly rocking along to the soothing vocals and eventually a drizzle starts up outside. You pay no mind and smile when Kuvira brings her mouth to yours — that simple brush of lips seems to capture every ounce of emotion brimming in your body.

She whispers something that’s drowned out by the music but somehow, somewhere in the deepest crevices of your heart, the words still make sense.

---

“This is my first affair, please be kind Handle my heart with care, please be kind This is all so grand, my dreams are on parade If you'll just understand, they'll never, never fade”