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Chiara lifted the tender fingertips to her lips, kissing them one by one.

“Oh darling, you have it all wrong. You saved me, on the rooftops and so many, many times with the big and small things you did. From giving me inspiration to giving me the courage to live—”

“If Aoife was here, she’d roll her eyes, throw a piece of remnant fabric at us, and say we are being absolute bloody fools. Lovely, but fools.”

She said the last bit of it with such a bad imitation of Aoife’s Irish accent that Chiara had to laugh.

“Now you’ve gone and ruined the mood, darling. My god, good thing you’re a talented photographer, because this right here was terrible. If not for how awful your Aoife impersonation was, all this talk about ‘hot’ would make me want to actually do something about it.”

Vi gave her an exaggerated pout before sighing and bringing their foreheads together again.

“I think you wanted to say if you weren't so tired, what with saving the day and all that.”

And she was very, very tired. So exhausted, in fact, that from up close, Vi’s eyes were converging into one, a big gray orb watching her with tenderness and humor.

Chiara shook her head, smiling at her own train of thought.

“How about sleep then, Cyclops?”

Vi tugged at her hands as they made their way to the bedroom, losing clothes in their meandering walk, and then cushioned Chiara’s fall as they stretched in the cozy bed under a dark green ceiling.

“Cyclops? You really do need that rest, Chiara. But you’ll have to explain your thought process to me here. Plus, if it’s Cyclops from X-Men, I could be game. Marsden is handsome. But if you’re talking about the Cyclops from Odysseus, I’m out, because he was damn ugly and met an even uglier end.”

Chiara kissed her, stopping the stream of consciousness and tasting Vi’s blooming smile, this new memory made replacing the ones from half an hour ago.

“I love you. Comic book references mixed with classic literature talk. I love you so much.”

As Vi argued that X-Men were, in fact, part of world art heritage due to their cultural importance and impact, Chiara closed her eyes and allowed the sound of her beloved’s voice to carry her to sleep, safe and warm in the knowledge that this nerd was hers, now and forever.

28

IN A FARAWAY LAND OF HAPPILY EVER AFTER

The steady beat of the heart under her cheek mirrored her own so perfectly, Chiara wanted to burrow under this skin, warm, silky smooth, so beloved.

Vi’s breathing was even, unlike the ragged state it had been just half an hour ago when Chiara had done her best to beat their record of climaxes per round. She did manage, too. Five. She smiled, feeling smug and powerful and so happy, her heart might have skipped a beat, if only that weren’t a sign of arrhythmia rather than just romance novel drivel.

“I can hear you thinking. Smug is not a good look on you.”

Chiara actually shivered, the things this voice did to her. How did she ever get this lucky?

“I think it looks amazing on me, darling. You’re just upset that it’s 5:4 in my favor.”

Vi rolled her eyes loudly. Yes, loudly. Chiara could swear she actually heard her do so.

“It’s only because you are so stressed. And tense. Otherwise, there’s no way I’d have lost.”

“Oh please, I have nothing to be stressed about.”

But Vi hit a bit too close to home, and Chiara chose not to dwell on it for too long. Instead, she planted a kiss on the collarbone closest to her mouth and got out of bed.

She stretched languidly, enjoying the way Vi’s eyes, despite all those many, many orgasms, devoured her naked form, and was quite sad to cover herself with the black satin of her robe. But needs must, since she didn’t want half of Mercer Street getting an eyeful.

With a wink and another kiss blown in Vi’s direction, she made her way through the debris of the active construction site that was currently the top level of Chiaroscuro. Expanding her apartment just made sense. Running between Vi’s place and the townhouse was becoming too onerous, and why should they?

Chiara smirked to herself, remembering how she didn’t even have to ask. They had been arguing, their first actual argument, both of them irritable over some work-related issues, grumbling into the phone, pissy, and desperately trying not to take it out on each other.

“I don’t think I’m fit for company.” She’d said back then, only to have Vi get even more upset.