Chapter Text
There were many things Gideon couldn't do. She couldn't perform necromancy, she couldn't be quiet during sex, and she absolutely could not cook. She also couldn't take her eyes off Harrowhark Nonagesimus, wiping exhaustion from her eyes amidst their rumpled black sheets as she was presented with a plate of misshapen pancakes.
"Are you trying to poison me?" Harrow's eyes darted between the pancakes and her wife, trying to decide which posed the greater threat to her life in this moment. Gideon, on the other hand, was wearing the most unruly grin.
"If this is all it takes, I'm going to be really disappointed, Nonagesimus." The necromancer's angular lips tugged downward.
"If this is your actual attempt, I'm going to be embarrassed. Are you even trying to kill me anymore?"
Gideon grinned lazily, dropping crossways onto the bed. "That'd be like giving you a one-way ticket out of this marriage. I'm not stupid." She looked up at Harrow, eyebrows shooting up as she swallowed down a bite of food. The necromancer glanced down at her wife, the piercing gaze catching and holding Gideon's eye.
"Did you cook these personally, Griddle?" She asked, icicles dripping from her tone. Something in her face must have shown, because Harrowhark didn't wait for an answer. "And just how much of the Fourth's gift did you waste on this exercise?"
Gideon was trapped by the gaze, but she wasn't defenseless. She widened her smile, letting teeth show through. She never went up against Harrow unprepared. "Not even a little. Even the bad ones tasted better than the muck we ate back on the Ninth."
Sighing, Harrowhark set the plate to the side, looking away from Gideon as she did. "I won't force you back there, Nav. But I can't-"
"Nonagesimus." Harrow blinked. Gideon continued. "My name. It's yours now. No more running away." Harrow looked back as the sheets and mattress shifted, Gideon was crawling on her elbows up the bed, her eyes locked on Harrow's face. "That's what you're scared of, right Nonagesimus? I've been thinking about it too, but I knew this when I married you. I married the Ninth House, and the Ninth House is hot."
Harrow blushed and spluttered. "Griddle! You-!" And Gideon interrupted her again.
"Are you gonna say my name, love?" She had reached the top of the bed, and tilted Harrow's face up as she loomed over her, breath catching in the necromancer's throat.
"Gideon...!"
"Not that one, Nonagesimus."
"Nonagesimus..." breathed Harrow.
"That's a second oath, Harrow. And I'm not ever breaking either."