They used to have a lot of mornings like this one.
Really, Amanita remembers it used to happen quite often. Lying in bed with Nomi until noon or later, not really worrying about anything except perhaps the schedule for the coming week or how they were going to handle the bills. It used to happen a lot on weekends, sometimes on holidays, sometimes even on days where one or both of them called in sick. It wasn’t something they overthought, though of course they might comment on how nice it was to spend the morning in. But it was no irregularity.
But for the past few months, domesticity like they used to have has been a pipe dream. It’s impossible. Nomi’s been constantly working on how to find a safe house, and of course also distracted by her cluster’s problems, of which there are quite a few. And stuck in the safe house before she never seemed to be able to relax. Staying there all the time meant that staying in bed for the morning felt more like an emphasis of her imprisonment than a luxury. And mornings when Nomi didn’t wake up in a jolt because halfway across the world Kala or Wolfgang was in trouble, she still quite often woke up already anxious about their safety.
Today, however, things are different. They’ve moved into Bug’s boat house, and while it’s not as cozy as their apartment, they still have a nice private bed of their own and there’s little chance of their being found by the Feds. And Nomi was very quiet in her sleep all night, and Amanita herself is only just waking up at ten o’clock. And she doesn’t have work, because she’s left her job behind, because Agent Bendix has turned her every moment away from Nomi into a nightmare, but forget the reason. The point is that neither she nor Nomi are in imminent danger and neither of them have any reason to get out of bed.
She goes to the bathroom before coming back to bed. She lies very stiffly for maybe fifteen minutes, staring at the ceiling. Trying to convince herself that yes, this is happening. She doesn’t have any kind of an appointment. They aren’t supposed to be moving houses tonight. There’s no emergency. She and Nomi are both fine and things are good and shit. Wow. That’s pretty nice.
She finally turns on her side and looks at Nomi. Nomi, who is still half asleep, but stirring a bit. She stares at Nomi’s freckles, Nomi’s eyebrows. Nomi’s nose. Can’t see much of her, really, because they somehow managed to keep the blankets on for once, but underneath the blankets she can feel her warmth. And when she shifts slightly in the bed she can nudge her legs against Nomi’s legs.
Nomi squirms slightly. Her eyes squint open and she mutters, “Hmplhdmms.”
Or something like that.
“What’s that, hon?” Amanita says. She moves closer. Nomi isn’t facing her, so she can’t exactly read her lips. This is a rare occasion, by the way. Nomi usually prefers to be the big spoon. Amanita likes it either way but she can’t help but gloat a little.
“You’re cold,” Nomi grunts finally. She butts her head against Amanita’s shoulder. “How did you…Never mind.” She pulls the blankets up a little more. It’s late fall and it is indeed pretty cold—Bug’s boathouse doesn’t have the best heating.
Amanita wraps her arms around Nomi and pulls her up close. “Mm. You’re right.”
“It’s really cold. You’re warm.” Amanita sighs. “So warm…”
Amanita has always appreciated the scent of Nomi’s hair. She’s been using a brand of green apple shampoo lately because it’s cheap (and lately they’re cheap people) and she swears it’s doing nothing for her but Amanita disagrees. It smells nice. A little woodsy, very clean. She’s tried the shampoo herself but it never really turns out as well (and they have different hair, so it doesn’t help the texture as much either). Amanita thinks the scent of the shampoo is transfigured by the Nomi scent to become sweeter and fresher. She thinks that if you could bottle up the essence of Nomi you could probably make a significant amount of money.
The essence of Nomi, by the way, is also very snuggly and warm. You could probably weave it into a blanket or a sweater or something, or work it into the lining of a sofa.
Amanita is pondering this get-rich-quick scheme and whether it would make Nomi famous or whether it would be better to keep her name out of it so she could stave off the paparazzi when Nomi stirs again. She’s arching her back against Amanita’s chest and rubbing her butt against Amanita’s hips. It’s very innocent—kind of catlike—but Amanita has been awake for long enough that it makes her a little too aware of her own body.
She squeezes Nomi. “You awake?”
“I had a dream…”
“About your cluster?”
“No.” Nomi turns over so that they’re facing each other now. Face solemn, she says, “There was ice cream…and a bus…”
Amanita smacks her arm. “I was worried!”
Nomi giggles. “It was a good dream though.” She puts her arms around Amanita as well and begins to kiss Amanita’s neck. Once, twice, three times…fifteen times…She seems incapable of really moving on. A little fixated.
Amanita sighs. A thought occurs to her. “Do we have any visitors?” When Nomi gives her a puzzled look, she says, “I mean, like, your cluster. Got any of those?”
Nomi’s gotten very nonchalant about their presence. She used to always tell Amanita when they showed up, but now not so much. She’ll start talking to Will or Kala or someone without announcing them and Amanita will ask when they showed up and Nomi will say they’ve been sitting on the couch with them for an hour now. It’s a little unnerving.
Nomi yawns. “No. Why?”
“I mean,” Amanita says, “I know they’ve seen us having sex before but…”
Nomi’s eyes light up. Apparently she’s still so sleepy that the thought of sex hadn’t even occurred to her. She tangles her legs with Amanita’s, brushing feet, and says, “I don’t know about you but I’m wearing nothing under this night gown.”
Amanita giggles. “Well, that’s convenient.”
She kisses Nomi on the mouth, sucking hard on her lip. Nomi is pushing her entire body against Amanita now, a bit more deliberate and less catlike. She shifts away only enough to reach her hands down and pull up Amanita’s skirt. Amanita shudders at the feeling of Nomi’s hands moving slowly around her hips, and pushes the fabric of Nomi’s skirt aside to do likewise.
So they have sex. Then they have sex again. Then Nomi talks Amanita into being the little spoon and they sort of talk for a while. Then they both lie on their backs and stare up at the ceiling, which is spattered with water marks and could probably use a layer of paint.
“That mark in the corner looks like you,” Nomi murmurs.
“No. Not really.”
Nomi says, “We should probably get up at some point.”
With a groan she turns back over and snuggles her body against Amanita’s again. “Or we could maybe just not.”
It sounds like an excellent idea.