Work Text:
Vivian has a certain routine when she comes home from work.
Lock the door. Roll back her shoulders. Kick her heels off, then neatly arrange them on the shoe rack Allie’s so particular about. No mess allowed. The next step is to seek out Allie.
Their living space is a wide, open-plan room. One side is Alastor’s beloved kitchen, stacked with cheerful basil plants and hanging pots and pans and a hand-written cookbook from her mother. The other side consists of the lounge, with a TV and double bookcases and a big squashy couch they curl up on in the evenings.
Alice is in the lounge, reading in her favourite armchair. There’s a fire crackling in the fireplace, and its warm glow settles on her dark, chocolate-brown curls. She’s wearing comfortable loungewear, the kind no one else but Vivian gets to see her in.
Vivian’s whole body relaxes upon seeing her. She’s been dreaming of this all day. She moves to kneel on the carpet beside her chair.
“Get a cushion,” Alice says without taking her eyes off her book. Vivian fetches one. When she kneels on it and leans against Alice’s legs, she feels her head go pleasantly blank.
Vivian’s mind is always go-go-go. Alice describes it as a vivid imagination; Vivian describes it like her mind is on a racetrack with a multitude of different lanes, and throughout the day she’s jumping between cars. What about this idea for a gameshow? Who directed that movie? What if they ran this programme – that show – this music station? On and on and on, in a loop around her head. The only thing that slows it is being here, with Allie. Kneeling at her feet like this, it’s the only time Vivian’s mind is clear.
Vivian isn’t sure how long she stays there, resting her head against Allie’s leg. At some point Alice brings her hand down to pet through her hair; Vivian pushes her head into the contact like a puppy seeking pets. The living room is warm and cosy, the only sounds the quiet ticking of the grandfather clock and the sounds of Allie turning her page. Vivian allows her mind to drift.
She’s brought back to earth eventually when Alice closes her book. The ministrations in her hair stop, and Vivian looks up hazily to see Alice smiling down at her.
“Hello, darling,” Alice says.
Alice is so pretty, all the time. When she’s reading aloud on-air, when she’s getting ready in the morning, when she’s all done up on Vivian’s arm at a media event. But she’s never prettier than when she’s relaxed and comfortable at home. Vivian’s heart squeezes tight. “Hi, Allie.”
“How was your day?”
“Okay.” Vivian nuzzles into Allie’s thigh. Soft. Warm. “Better now.”
“I’m guessing it was a long day?”
“Like you wouldn’t believe.”
“Poor darling," Alice says, and Vivian pushes her face into her leg. She loves when Alice calls her those things: darling, sweetheart, my love. “You must be exhausted.”
Much as Alice complained about her being a workaholic, Vivian really was better now than she used to be, before they’d become a couple. Nowadays she was eager to get home. Home to Allie and their cosy dinners together and their bedtime routine and their queen-sized bed. But tonight it had been one fire to put out after another. Alastor smoothes Vivian’s hair from her face and says, “I watched you on television.”
Vivian looks up at her, surprised. “Did you?”
“Yes. I must have missed that face of yours.”
“Did you like it?”
“Well, it’s not my preferred medium,” Alice says. “But you were my favourite part.”
Vivian beams; Alice laughs. “I saved dinner for you, you know.”
“You’re so good to me, Allie.” Vivian closes her eyes as Alice continues to pet through her hair. Like Vivian is just a little lapdog, content to sit at Allie’s feet while Alice pets her and gives her sweet, murmured praise. “Missed you.”
“Sweet girl.” Vivian loves when she can get Allie’s voice to sound like that: warm and fond, as rich and sweet as honey. “Shall we head to bed? You look like you could use a good night’s sleep.”
“In a minute,” Vivian mumbles. “Just want to stay here. Is that okay?”
“Of course it is.”
Alice returns to her book. Vivian closes her eyes and listens to the sounds of page turning, to the crackling of the fireplace.
“How was your day, Allie?” she asks suddenly.
“Good,” Alice says. “Better now.”
Vivian hides her smile in Alice’s leg.