Some days you drag yourself out of bed looking like a half-deflated balloon, barely managing to open one eye. You shuffle to the kitchen and click the kettle on like it’s the most exhausting thing you’ve done all day. Buttering your toast with all the grace of a sleepy sloth, you don’t even notice you’re wiping your sleeve right through it, leaving a butter smear the size of a small country on your favourite pajamas.

You plonk down, glaring at the whole blasted world, especially your partner, who’s zipping about like they’ve been plugged into the Energizer Bunny’s charging station overnight. Honestly, you’re pretty sure they’re from another bloody planet, one where people run on pure adrenaline and sarcasm is a second language.

And today? Yep, today was one of those days for Yaz.

Absolutely! Here's a polished version that keeps the charm, humour, and emotional tone:

Alex was zipping around the kitchen like a woman on a mission, already dressed, hair up, shoes on, and halfway through her morning tea. She was in full babble-mode, animatedly talking about the patient she’d been following for months, a woman expecting twins.

“I swear, I’m so excited to meet these babies I'm gonna take a selfie when their out,” she said, grinning as she spooned out her tea bag. “I think today might be the day...Finally!! I never fought for babies like I did for those two Yazee. Never thought we make it this far.”

Alex didn’t just take her job seriously, she got emotionally attached. Every pregnancy she followed tugged at her heart, every baby she delivered felt like a tiny personal victory. In her office, she kept two glass jars on a shelf, one for boys, one for girls. Each time she delivered a baby, she’d drop in a coloured bead, blue for a boy, pink for a girl, like a sweet little scoreboard of lives she helped bring into the world.

Most days, Yaz found that habit endearing, a soft, earnest side of her brilliant, capable wife. But this morning, as she sat at the table in her pyjamas, blinking slowly at a piece of toast she wasn’t even sure she’d buttered, Alex’s voice just blended into the fog in her brain.

"...so I'm really hoping today’s the day," Alex said cheerfully, dropping the tea bag into the bin. “Oh! And the clinic emailed me... my...soldiers are officially on their way.”

She laughed, cheeks pink with embarrassment. Her ‘soldiers’, as she jokingly called them, were not her favourite subject. To Alex, they weren’t something she felt connected to, just a means to an end. A borrowed tool for a bigger dream. One she could love only once it stopped being a number in a vial and started being a wriggly, real baby in their arms.

Yaz squinted at her toast.

Alex leaned over, dropping a warm kiss on Yaz’s temple, letting her lips linger for a moment. Yaz didn’t react straight away, just blinked up at her, bleary and slow… but then her lip wobbled, just barely.

Alex’s heart squeezed.

“Hey,” she said gently, immediately pulling out a chair and dragging it right up beside her. “Come here.” She took hold of Yaz’s knees and turned her on the chair so they were facing each other. “Alright, sweet pea. What’s going on? Talk to me.”

Yaz sighed, her gaze falling to the half-eaten toast in her hand. “It’s stupid.”

Alex shook her head. “Don’t care. Stupid things still matter if they make your lip do that.” She booped her lightly on the chin.

Yaz gave the tiniest laugh through her nose, but it faded quickly. “It’s just…” She looked up, eyes glistening now. “This test. They said it can be painful, and I keep pretending I’m fine with it but…” she trailed off, voice cracking just slightly, “I’m scared, Al. I don’t want to do it on my own. Please say you’ll be there.”

Alex’s face softened instantly. She slid her hands over Yaz’s thighs, gripping her gently but firmly. “Yazee love. I will be there even if the entire bloody world starts falling apart. I don’t care if I’m elbow-deep in a delivery, I’ll throw on a bloody cape and fly over if I have to.”

Yaz gave a watery chuckle, then sniffled. “What if you’re in the delivery room?”

“Then I’ll make them shuffle you in for later,” Alex grinned, brushing Yaz’s hair back from her face. “I’ll pull every string I’ve got. You think I’m letting you go through that on your own? Not a chance. You’ll be fine. It’ll be weird, and it might suck a bit, but you’ll be in my hands the second it’s over. Promise.”

Yaz nodded slowly, lower lip still caught in her teeth, eyes damp. “I know it’s nothing compared to labour but… it’s just so clinical. And cold. I’m scared it’ll hurt and I’ll just… freeze.”

Alex leaned forward, cupping her face gently. “Then I’ll be right there with you to thaw you out. We’re doing this together, remember?”

Yaz let out a shuddered breath and leaned into her palm. “Together.”

Alex smiled, pressing their foreheads together. “Every last step.”

Yaz reached up, her palm gently cupping Alex’s cheek, her thumb brushing along the edge of her jaw. She pulled her in, slow and soft, kissing her with quiet tenderness. It wasn’t hungry or rushed, it was grounding. A small anchor in the morning chaos.

Alex lingered a moment longer than she probably should’ve, her forehead pressing to Yaz’s once more. “God, I don’t wanna leave you like this.”

“You’ve got babies to catch,” Yaz murmured, trying to smile.

“I’d rather catch you.”

Yaz chuckled lightly, giving her wife one last kiss. “Go. You’re already gonna be legging it through that hospital in your crocs.”

Alex sighed dramatically, stepping back and grabbing her bag. “If anyone asks, I was delayed due to an emotionally needy but devastatingly attractive wife.”

“Fair,” Yaz mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

Alex paused at the door, blowing her a kiss. “Text me if you need anything. I’ll be thinking about you all day.”
"Alright babe..."

"Loooove yoooou" she yelled from the hallway

And then she was gone.

The house fell silent.

Yaz stood in the middle of the kitchen, the warmth of Alex’s kiss still clinging to her lips. But now the nerves crept back in, curling like cold fingers around her stomach. She sighed, picked up her barely-touched toast, and binned it. No point pretending she’d get it down.

As she gathered the plates and mugs, rinsing them mechanically, her eyes flicked to her phone on the counter.

It sat there. Silent. Waiting. Like it knew what she should do.

After a moment, she wiped her hands on a tea towel and snatched it up.

She tapped her sister’s name.

It rang once.

“Hey? Everything alright?” Sonya answered instantly. Behind her, Prem was in full meltdown mode, his wails echoing through the speaker.

“Hi… yeah...well, no. Not really,” Yaz said, trying to speak over the chaos. “I...uh...listen, I’ve got that test today. The dye one. Three o’clock. And I’m just…” Her voice faltered. “I can’t focus. I’ve tried. I thought I could work through it but I’m a mess.”

Sonya didn’t miss a beat. “Right. Gimme forty-five minutes to sort him out, and I’ll be ready. Come pick me up.”

“Really?” Yaz asked, the relief almost making her knees go. “Son, thank you. I just...”

“Oh shut up,” Sonya said, half-laughing over the sound of Prem now throwing something at a wall. “You’re my sister. Of course I’ll be there. That’s what sisters are for.”

Yaz’s throat tightened. “I owe you.”

“Yeah, yeah. You can buy me a coffee that I’ll never get to drink while it’s hot.”

Yaz smiled, her heart a little lighter. “Deal.”

She ended the call, set the phone down, and let out a long breath.

At least she wouldn’t be going through this alone.

.....


The maternity ward was already buzzing when Alex arrived, weaving past nurses and visitors with the kind of focused energy that made her look busier than she actually was. She was halfway through her second cup of tea and still had a bite of croissant in her coat pocket she hadn’t managed to finish, but her attention was all on Room 4.

Inside, her patient, a cheerful woman in her early thirties with a round, glowing face and a bump that looked ready to declare independence was beaming as Alex entered.

“There she is!” the woman said brightly. “I’ve been watching the clock since six. Tell me you’ve got good news.”

Alex smiled, flipping through the chart. “Well, your blood pressure’s behaving itself, your levels look good, and the last scan looks promising. If everything keeps ticking along and your final labs come back clear, we might be meeting these little ones today.”

The woman’s eyes welled instantly. “Oh God. Today?”

Alex grinned, setting the chart down and pulling up a stool. “Today. Maybe. Don’t get too excited yet ...they might get shy at the last minute.”

“I’m more excited than nervous,” the woman said, pressing a hand to her belly as one of the babies kicked. “I still can’t believe it’s really happening. I don’t even have names picked yet. I’ve been calling them ‘Left’ and ‘Right.’”

Alex laughed. “That’s one way to tell them apart.”

“No, really,” the woman said. “I keep thinking I’ll know once I see them, but what if I don’t? What if I just stare at them blankly and go, ‘Well, you might be a Megan… or possibly a Zoe…?’”

Alex tilted her head thoughtfully. “Honestly? That’s not unusual. I’ve had couples take days. I’ve seen one woman name her son after the snack she was eating when she went into labour.”

“You’re joking.”

“Not at all. His middle name is Dorito.”

They both burst into laughter, the sound warm and bright in the sterile room. Then the woman smiled softly and said, “You’ve delivered so many babies. Do you ever get used to it?”

Alex paused, her fingers tightening slightly around her pen. “Not really,” she said. “Every one feels different. It’s like… the world pauses for a moment, just for that person. And you’re there for it. It’s a weird kind of magic.”

“God,” the woman sighed. “I hope I don’t cry the whole time.”

“You will,” Alex said gently, “and it’ll be beautiful.”

A moment passed, then the woman tilted her head curiously. “What about you? You have any kids?”

Alex blinked. “Oh. Uh. Yeah. Actually, my wife and I are… well, we’re hoping. Soon.”

The woman lit up. “You’re trying?”

Alex’s cheeks turned pink instantly. “Not… well sort of. We’re doing things in stages. There’s a procedure today actually, to check some things. If it goes well, then… maybe soon.”

Her voice softened at the end, caught somewhere between hope and awe.

“Oh my God, that’s amazing,” the woman said, grinning. “I hope it happens for you soon.”

Alex’s eyes went wide. “Thank you...Me too...Just to get the prep stuff out of the way. But we’re getting there.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and gave the awkward little half-shrug that Yaz had long ago dubbed her social turtle mode.

The woman smiled knowingly. “You look excited.”

Alex beamed, caught off guard by how transparent she must’ve been. “I am. I’m… really excited. I keep thinking about names, too. You know, in a quiet sort of ‘don’t jinx it’ way.”

“You’ll be an amazing mum.”

Alex blinked, eyes going a little glassy. “I really hope so.”

Then the door opened and a nurse poked her head in. “Alex, final labs are back. All clear.”

Alex stood quickly, smoothing down her coat. “Alright, looks like we’re on. Let’s get you ready.”

The woman gasped, hands flying to her belly. “Oh my God. Okay. Okay. Left and Right... it’s go time.”

Alex chuckled, offering her hand as she helped her patient up. “We’ve got a few hours yet. But let’s start this thing. And hey, if you’re still stuck, I’ve got a list of names I’m quietly judging. I’ll share my rejects.”

“Oh, please do,” the woman laughed. “As long as it’s not Dorito.”

Alex grinned. “Not unless we get really desperate.”

And with that, they began prepping, one hopeful mother about to meet her babies, and another just beginning to imagine her own.

.....

The café had a handful of tables set along the pavement, shaded by a line of leafy plane trees that rattled gently in the morning breeze. It was the kind of day you couldn’t complain about, mild, sunny, a soft golden light catching on the rim of coffee cups and the edges of laughter drifting from inside.

Yaz sat with her back to the street, the sun on her shoulders and a half-drunk orange juice sweating quietly next to her plate. Across from her, Sonya was scooping bits of scrambled egg onto a piece of toast while keeping one eye on Prem, who was banging a toy phone against the high chair tray like he was trying to dial into another universe.

For once, he wasn’t screaming. A small miracle in itself.

“You’re gonna be fine. You'll see...” Sonya tried to make her feel better.

Yaz snorted, taking a sip of her juice. “I don’t know. Depends how much internal poking they plan to do.”

Sonya’s face softened. “You’re gonna be alright, Yaz. Seriously. If I could survive a C-section and three bloody hours of labour before that, you can survive one dye test.”

Yaz gave a half-smile, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I know. Pathetic really...I just… I hate these exams. Always have, you know that. Lying there with your legs in the air, some stranger peering into your bits like they’re checking for contraband. It always made me feel so...” She hesitated, frowning. “I don’t know. Invaded... Like I wasn’t even there anymore. Just a… body part.”

Sonya’s hands stilled on her fork. “Yaz…”

“I think that’s why I avoided check-ups for so long,” Yaz said, pushing her food around the plate. “It wasn’t just about time or forgetting. It’s me. I left myself unchecked and that’s probably why the damn cyst happened in the first place. It’s my own bloody fault.”

Sonya reached across the table, her fingers closing gently around Yaz’s wrist. “Hey. Don’t do that. It’s not your fault. Loads of women put this stuff off. You didn’t do this to yourself.”

Yaz blinked quickly, looking away. “Yeah. I know. I just… hate how much it still messes with me.”

There was a beat of quiet before Sonya added dryly, “Which makes it all the more hilarious that you married a bloody gynaecologist.”

Yaz burst out laughing, her eyes still glassy but her shoulders loosening. “I know, right? The irony....Well...She’s the only one I don’t mind poking around,” Yaz said, trying to look smug and mostly managing it.

Sonya cackled. “I hope she’s doing more than poking.”

Yaz wheezed, nearly choking on her juice. “Sonya!”

Prem gave a loud squeal and clapped, like he was in on the joke.

“I mean...” Sonya said through giggles, “I assume there’s some other extracurricular activities apart form poking.”

“Oh my God,” Yaz said, hiding behind her hand, grinning helplessly. "Shut up"

“Someone’s gotta keep you from falling into an existential panic hole before your appointment. And I’m doing a fantastic job.”

Yaz chuckled, “You’re not wrong.”

Sonya leaned back, a smug smirk on her face as Prem resumed battering the phone. “Anyway. You’re gonna be okay. You’ve got me. You’ve got Alex. You’ve got a small gremlin who’s currently drooling on plastic.”

Prem squealed again, as if on cue.

Yaz looked over at him, the curls stuck to his forehead, the wide grin, the chubby fists, and let out a soft sigh.

“Yeah,” she said. “I do.”

And for the first time that morning, the nerves eased, not gone, but gentler. Like maybe, just maybe, she could get through this afternoon

.....


Yaz pulled into the hospital parking lot, easing the car into a space near the visitor entrance. The engine clicked off, leaving behind a quiet hum of distant traffic and birdsong. For a moment, she just sat there, hands resting on the steering wheel, watching the entrance like it might swallow her whole.

She reached for her bag and swung it over her shoulder, pausing to check for her ID, her phone, her referral letter. She knew they were all there. She’d checked twice before leaving. Still, her fingers fumbled a little more than usual.

The sun was warm when she stepped out, the afternoon air wrapping around her like a thin shawl. Her white summer dress fluttered gently around her legs, soft cotton, open back, light as air. It was the one Alex loved, the one she’d worn to one of their first dates, back when everything had been nerves and fluttery glances and barely-contained excitement.

She could still remember the way Alex had stared when she turned around, the tiny gasp like she'd been physically struck by the sight.

The sun kissed her bare shoulders now. The wind played in her hair, tugging the long strands loose from behind her ears, tickling her cheek. On any other day, this would’ve made her smile, she would’ve texted Alex and asked if she was free for lunch, maybe surprised her in the staff room with a takeaway wrap and a kiss.

But not today.

Today, the sunlight felt sharp, and the breeze too light to hold her up.

Yaz paused just in front of the sliding glass doors, her reflection caught briefly in the mirrored panels. She looked… calm. Or calm enough. You wouldn’t know her stomach was tight, or that she’d barely managed half of meal in the restaurant.

She swallowed, taking in a slow, deep breath, like maybe the air itself could settle her nerves if she just held it long enough.

But it didn’t.

Her hands were clammy. Her thighs stuck slightly where the dress brushed against her skin. Every step forward felt like one she wasn’t sure she wanted to take and had to remind herself why she was doing it.

She closed her eyes for a second. Thought of Alex.

Thought of her promise“You’ll be in my hands the second it’s over.”

Yaz exhaled slowly.

And stepped forward.

The glass doors opened with a mechanical sigh, swallowing her into the scent of antiseptic and distant voices. She adjusted her bag on her shoulder, pulled her hair away from her face, and walked in.

She could do this.She just had to get through this awful part.

The corridor leading to the maternity and gynaecology wing was quieter than Yaz expected. Just the distant rhythm of soft shoes on linoleum and the gentle hum of a vending machine down the hall.

She made her way to the reception desk, familiar now after so many lunch breaks spent visiting Alex.

The woman behind the desk looked up and instantly smiled, a kind warmth in her eyes.

“Morning, love,” she said. “You’re here for your three o’clock?”

Yaz opened her mouth to respond, but Linda simply gave a tiny nod and gestured behind Yaz with a flick of her chin.

She turned.

And there was Alex.

Already walking toward her, eyes locked on Yaz with that look, soft and steady and a little fierce. She didn’t say anything, just reached out and slipped a hand behind Yaz’s neck, drawing her in.

Yaz didn’t resist. She folded straight into Alex’s chest, breathing her in, her cheek pressed against warm cotton and the faint scent of tea and hand sanitiser.

Alex’s other arm wrapped tight around her waist. “Hey,” she murmured into her hair.

Linda smiled from behind the desk, watching them with gentle fondness. “Someone’s nervous,” she commented kindly. “It’ll be over before you know it, love.”

Alex smiled faintly, then kissed Yaz’s hairline.

Yaz let out a small, shaky laugh against her chest.

They pulled apart slowly. Alex brushed a bit of hair from Yaz’s face, her hand lingering just a second longer than needed.

“I’m ready.” she gave Alex a tiny nod.

....

Once inside she changed into the provided gown behind a thin curtain, folding her clothes neatly even though her hands were shaking. The paper sheet rustled softly as she sat down on the edge of the exam table, her bare feet swinging slightly above the floor.

Alex stood beside her. She held Yaz’s hands gently, thumbs stroking over her knuckles.

“You don’t have to be brave right now,” Alex said softly.

Yaz let out a weak laugh. “I think I left ‘brave’ in the car.”

“Then I’ll hold the line for both of us,” Alex whispered, kissing her knuckles. “You’re not alone. I’m right outside, and the second they’re done, I’ll be here.”

A soft knock at the door announced the nurse’s return.

“Alright, Yaz,” the woman said kindly. “We're ready for you now. We’ll take good care of you, I promise.”

Alex squeezed Yaz’s hand one last time. “I’ll see you in a few minutes, okay? Love you.”

"Love you too" Yaz nodded, not trusting her voice, and followed the nurse into the next room.

The X-ray suite was colder, the lighting brighter. The table was smooth beneath her as she settled back, knees bent, feet in the metal stirrups that felt far too wide apart. A rustle of paper. A gentle explanation. Kind eyes above a surgical mask.

The doctor was a woman with a soft Scottish accent and warm hands. “Yaz, we’re going to start by inserting the speculum and placing a thin catheter through your cervix. I’ll talk you through each step. If anything feels too uncomfortable, just let us know.”

Yaz nodded, her throat tight.

The speculum was cool and firm. She stared at the ceiling tiles, fingers clenched on the thin blanket across her stomach. She hated this the exposure, the pressure, the sensation of being a body instead of a person.

“Doing alright?” the nurse asked gently.

Yaz didn’t answer at first, then forced out a tight, “Yeah.”

The catheter followed, a sharp pinch that made her toes curl.

And then the dye.

It was strange, a sensation she couldn’t quite describe. Not outright pain, but a twisting pressure, deep and low, that made her gasp. Cramping bloomed across her belly like a fist slowly closing.

Her breath hitched.

“You’re doing really well,” the doctor said calmly.

Yaz pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth, blinked fast. She could feel her body tensing more than she wanted, but it was all she could do not to flinch.

She thought of Alex’s hands. Her voice. The feeling of home.

The worst of it was over.

Yaz lay back, breathing shallowly, the crinkle of the paper beneath her loud in the quiet room

.....

“You’re all done,” the doctor said gently at the end of the exam.

Yaz exhaled hard.

The woman stepped back, peeling off her gloves with a soft snap. “Well done, Yaz,” she said gently. “You did really well.”

Yaz gave a weak, exhausted nod.

The doctor walked over to the monitor, checking the final set of images. Then she turned back, her tone still professional but warm.

“We’ll send the full report to your GP, but I can tell you now what I’m seeing…” She smiled. “Both fallopian tubes look open. The dye passed through cleanly. But it's  this one we want. And it looks all good.”

Yaz blinked. “Really?”

“Yes. Everything looks normal, structurally speaking. No signs of blockage.” Her voice was reassuring.

A tear slipped out, not from pain this time, but from something else. A release.

“Can I… get dressed now?” Yaz asked, her voice hoarse.

“Of course,” the doctor said kindly. “Take your time....You might have some cramping and light bleeding later,” she added. “And the dye will leak out a bit, so best to pop on a pad before you go.”

Yaz nodded, her throat still tight.

And then they were gone.

By the time she emerged back into the small private changing area, Alex was already waiting, sat on the chair.

Their eyes met.

Alex stood instantly and opened her arms without a word.

Yaz stepped right into them.

She let herself fold in, the press of Alex’s lips against her temple the first thing that truly anchored her. Her body still felt like it didn’t quite belong to her, sore, strange, too open, but Alex’s hands were warm, familiar, real.

For a few long seconds, Yaz just breathed there, cheek against her chest.

Then she spoke, voice quiet and rough around the edges. “It’s okay. They said both tubes are open. Everything looks normal.”

Alex’s arms tightened. “Thank God.” She let out a breath Yaz hadn’t realised she’d been holding too.

“You did so well,” she whispered again, her voice thick with emotion. “I’m so proud of you,” she murmured, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to the top of Yaz’s head

She didn’t cry, not at first. She just clung to Alex, letting her arms do the holding her own couldn’t manage right now. But then the tears came, quiet and sudden, spilling over without permission.

Alex said nothing. She only held her tighter, closer, one hand cradling the back of her head like something fragile.

“I’ll be fine...” Yaz whispered after a moment, pulling back slightly and swiping at her cheeks with the heel of her hand.

Alex cupped her face gently, her thumbs brushing away what Yaz missed. “Let’s get you dressed,” she murmured. “Then I’m taking you home.”

Yaz nodded, her smile faint but real.


....


She lay curled on her side, facing the window. The afternoon light streamed in, turning the duvet golden where it pooled around her bare legs. She wore her softest cotton sleep shirt — one of Alex’s, oversized and faded from too many washes. Her hair was still damp at the ends from the shower she'd taken as soon as they got home.

The cramps weren’t as bad as she’d feared. Just a dull ache, low and nagging, like her body was slowly unknotting itself. But it wasn’t the pain that had left her quiet.

Alex lay behind her, curled around her, her front pressed to Yaz’s back. One arm cradled her waist, the other tucked under her head.

Neither of them spoke for a while. The world kept turning, but here, wrapped in the safety of their bed, time felt paused just for them.

Yaz blinked slowly, then shifted to face Alex. Her shoulders tensed less as Alex’s hand draped around her back, stroking slowly, soothingly.

She exhaled, meeting Alex’s eyes, kind and full of emotion she couldn’t quite voice, but Yaz saw it all.

“Yazee,” Alex whispered. "please talk to me."

She exhaled a breath she didn't know she was holding “I feel… so… I don’t know… violated.”

Alex’s hand stilled.

“I don’t even know why,” Yaz continued, eyes drifting past Alex, distant, before returning to her. “It wasn’t violent. It wasn’t horrible. They were kind. It was over fast. But it still feels like someone… I don't know....reached inside and just took something.” She scoffed. “You must think it’s proper mental.”

Alex’s voice was soft but steady. “No.” Her hand shifted, cupping Yaz’s cheek, thumb brushing slowly and tenderly. “It makes perfect sense to me darling.”

Yaz didn’t answer. Her shoulders tightened just slightly.

“You went through something that asked for you be exposed in the most intimate way without giving anything back. It wasn’t for pleasure. It wasn’t for closeness. It was cold and clinical.”

Yaz’s eyes burned suddenly.

“Darling… what you feel is normal. You’re allowed to feel shaken. Even if you agreed to it… that doesn’t make it any less of an intrusion. It’s still your body, baby. It still very much matters.”

Yaz shifted slightly, tucking her face into the curve of Alex’s neck.

After a beat, Alex spoke again, her voice low and careful.

“Rght before my surgery… I had to go through all these checks. One of many. And no matter how much I wanted it, and even though I knew everything that was happening, medically, anatomically… I still felt so exposed and violated.”

Yaz didn’t move, but her breathing shifted slightly.

“I was lying there on this table, gown barely covering me, freezing…”

Alex’s thumb traced along the back of Yaz’s neck.

“I wasn’t even Alex in that room. I was just… a body to be mapped.”

Yaz made a quiet sound, somewhere between a breath and a sigh. Her fingers traced a lazy line down Alex’s back. It was so close to what she’d felt, it made her eyes sting.

Alex’s thumb moved to trace along her shoulder.

“It didn’t matter that I was a doctor. That I’d studied all of it. It still felt like someone came into my house and rearranged the furniture without asking.”

Yaz finally looked up, eyes damp but steady. “You never told me that.”

Alex smiled faintly, brushing a thumb under her eye. “I pushed it away a long time ago. Until I saw that look on your face today… like you were still in the room, but not in the room.”

Yaz nodded slowly, throat tight. “That’s exactly how it felt.”

Alex kissed her brow, then let her forehead rest there. “I love you so much,” Alex whispered, her voice thick. “I’ll never stop being grateful for everything you’re going through... for letting your body go through this. I know it’s not easy sweet pea and I don’t take a second of it for granted. I promise.”

Yaz reached up, her fingers brushing softly along Alex’s cheek, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. Her thumb lingered at her jaw as she pulled her in for a kiss, slow, tender, full of meaning.

When they parted, Yaz rested their foreheads together and whispered, “I know, love. I know you don't.”

Her hand cupped Alex’s face, steady and sure.

“It’s horrid,” she admitted quietly. “I won’t lie and pretend it’s not. Every bit of it feels like I’m being cracked open from the inside out. But I keep telling myself… when it’s all over, we’ll be happier than we’ve ever been.”

Alex blinked back the sting in her eyes.

“And it’ll be worth it,” Yaz added, voice firm now, a softness wrapped in steel. “Every bit of it.”

Alex kissed her again. Not out of passion, but reverence.

“Together,” she murmured.

“Always,” Yaz breathed. “And thanks for telling me...you know...How you felt...” she murmured. “I… don’t feel so stupid now.”

“You’re not stupid,” Alex whispered. “Don’t say shit like that about yourself.”

Yaz’s lips curled into a small, genuine smile. “Can we make pancakes?”

Alex lifted her head slightly, grinning at Yaz’s hopeful face. “Pancakes?” she repeated, arching an eyebrow. “That’s what you want after baring your soul and getting half-flayed by the NHS?”

Yaz nodded, still pouting. “Emotional recovery food.”

Alex huffed a laugh through her nose. “Fine. But only if you stay on the sofa with your feet up like the fragile flower you are.”

Yaz gasped in mock offense. “Excuse me, I am a rugged warrior woman who just survived internal battle.”

“Excuse me,” Alex cut in, already sliding out of bed. “...warriors get put on bed rest after battle as well. So. Sofa. Now.”

Yaz rolled onto her back with a dramatic groan, then grinned up at her. “You’re very bossy when you’re worried.”

“Don’t make me bring out the blood pressure monitor,” Alex teased, tying her hair into a bun. “You know I will.”

“Alright, alright!” Yaz held up her hands in surrender. “I’ll be good.”

Alex leaned down and kissed her, slow and sweet, thumb brushing along her jaw. “I know you will. You’re my best girl.”

“Always,” Yaz whispered, her fingers twined in Alex’s hair as she lifted her face for another slow, lingering kiss.

When they parted, she grinned mischievously, voice low and teasing.

“Honestly, if I weren't feeling like shite I’d pick sex over pancakes any day. Or… both. Cause you smell so fucking amazing.”

Alex laughed, the sound warm and soft against Yaz’s lips, before pulling her close again.

“Glad to know what motivates you.”

.....

A few minutes later, Yaz was nestled the sofa, a hot water bottle on her tummy and the TV playing something cheerful and forgettable. From the kitchen came the soft clatter of bowls, the faint hiss of batter hitting buttered pans, and the occasional muttered curse as Alex tried to flip a pancake without breaking it.

Yaz smiled to herself, cheek against the pillow.

The ache was still there, but it was quieter now. Bearable. Because she wasn’t alone with it anymore.

And that made all the difference.

.....


The next day, Yaz’s phone buzzed in the quiet kitchen. She glanced at the screen, her mum.

“Hey, Mum,” Yaz answered, smiling as she leaned against the counter.

“Hello, darling! How are you feeling today?” her mum’s voice came warm but sharp with curiosity.

Yaz glanced over her shoulder as Alex moved around the kitchen, preparing sandwiches.

“I’m good. Still a bit sore, but honestly, I’m just relieved it’s done.” Yaz’s voice grew lighter, excitement bubbling up. “Now we can finally concentrate on the baby.” She kissed Alex’s bare shoulder as she passed by.

Her mum chuckled softly. “I never thought in a million years I’d hear my daughter actually excited about a baby.”

From the background, Yaz heard Sonya’s voice shoot out, sharp and playful. “Mum, don’t discourage her!”

“Oh, I’m not discouraging!” her mum replied, amused. “I’m just saying.”

Sonya cut in, exasperated but affectionate. “Just be happy and leave it at that, alright? It’s not like I planned Prem. And I wouldn’t give him up for anything.”

The kitchen filled with a flurry of half-heard family squabbling through the phone. Yaz’s sister and mum in their usual banter.

Alex, confused but smiling, watched Yaz with amusement. Yaz, barely suppressing a giggle, gently reached up and cupped Alex’s chin, pulling her in for a quick kiss.

“It’s just the usual family drama,” Yaz whispered, still on the call running her palm over Alex's arm.

Finally, her mum’s voice broke through the background. “Anyway, I called because we were wondering if you wanna come over for lunch. It’s been too long.”

Yaz turned to Alex. “Let me check... Fancy going  for lunch? I don’t know what your plans are.”

Alex grinned, eyes sparkling. “No plans. I’m in.”

Yaz laughed. “You should see her face right now. Okay, Mum, we’re definitely coming.”

"Good...be here around two then"

"Alright...see ya"

Yaz hung up, turning fully to Alex with a smile. “Well, we definitely don't need to cook today ”

Alex leaned into the fridge, peering past the near-empty shelves. “But we definitely need to go food shopping,” she announced, voice muffled slightly by the open door. “Unless you want a gourmet meal of mustard, a single tomato, and half a block of cheese that looks emotionally compromised.”

Yaz, perched on a stool by the counter, smirked. “We’ll do it on the way back from Mum’s. I’m not shopping on an empty stomach, that’s how we end up with twelve types of jam and no bread.”

Before Alex could reply, her phone buzzed on the counter. She glanced at the screen and rolled her eyes fondly. “It’s uncle.”

She picked up putting him on a loud speaker. "Ey up! Alright, you? Thought you weren’t coming till Monday?"

"Hi love" The familiar raspy voice came through, full of energy. “You busy later? My mate’s got a batch of bath tubs and taps, proper solid stuff, chrome, real fancy... just came into his hands this morning.”

Alex raised an eyebrow, glancing at Yaz. “Came into his hands how, exactly?”

“Y’know. Just… came off the back of a lorry.”

Alex laughed. “So you’re literally calling to offer me black market bathroom fittings?”

“Oi,” he said, mock-offended. “They’re half price and top-notch quality. What more d’you want?”

She bit her lip, grinning. “Legally obtained would be a start?”

He gave an exaggerated sigh. “Listen, do you want your sister-in-law bathing in some IKEA reject? This is the real deal. German stuff. It glistens.”

Alex barked a laugh, covering the phone with her hand as she said to Yaz, “He’s really selling this. Apparently, Sonya’s dignity depends on brushed nickel taps.”

Yaz leaned her chin on her hand, amused. “Well then, we must go.”

Alex lifted the phone back to her ear. “Alright, alright. Text me the address. We’ll swing by before lunch, and you’d better not be dragging me into a warehouse guarded by rottweilers again.”

“No promises, kid,” her uncle said cheerfully before hanging up.

Alex set her phone down and looked at Yaz with a grin. “Looks like we’re shopping for criminally acquired bathtubs.”

Yaz snorted.

....

They pulled into a narrow side street off main road, where the paving gave up pretending to be level and weeds grew confidently through every available crack. Yaz stared through the windshield at the corrugated metal garage with a sign that had long since lost its letters, now just a faded ghost of “SOMETHING PLUMBING.”

Alex shifted into park and gave Yaz a deadpan look. “Well. Looks legit.”

Yaz cackled. “You sure we’re not here to pick up contraband sausage rolls and a cursed mirror?”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t be surprised if this place sold all three.” Alex killed the engine and unbuckled. “Come on, you might find your dream bathtub between the stolen car radios and haunted bidets.”

The moment they stepped out, the side door of the building creaked open Alex's uncle emerged like a man ready to do some serious business. Pint in hand, no explanation.

“OI OI!” he bellowed, arms flung open. “There’s me favourite doctor! Look at you, all posh with your hair tied up like you run the bloody NHS!”

Alex laughed, letting herself get enveloped in one of his classic full-body hugs that smelled like beer and car wax.

“This place is...very atmospheric,” Yaz murmured, glancing around at the mismatched industrial doors, stacked pallets, and suspicious lack of signage.

He gave Yaz a cheeky wink. “Only the best for family. You’re gonna scream when you see these taps.”

He led them inside the garage-slash-showroom, which looked like it had been part illegal scrapyard, part DIY fantasyland. But then, there it was.

Rows of chrome taps, brushed nickel mixers, rainfall showerheads still in pristine packaging, clawfoot tubs gleaming like freshly waxed limos. Even Yaz had to pause.

“…Okay. Why is all this stuff actually gorgeous?” she whispered.

Alex narrowed her eyes. “I hate how nice this is. Like, morally.”

Her uncle clapped her on the shoulder. “Told you! Just ‘cause it fell off the lorry doesn’t mean it can’t land softly.”

He sauntered over to one of the clawfoot tubs, running his hand along the edge. “Feel that. That’s proper enamel. No plastic shite. Made in Austria or Belgium or one of those posh bath-making places.”

Alex gave Yaz a look. “Am I really about to furnish my sister-in-law’s bathroom off the back of a lorry special. This what I've become?

Yaz was already crouched near a sleek matte black shower system, her eyes gleaming. “Forget Sonya. Can we get this one for us?”

Alex sighed in mock defeat. “We are so going to hell.”

“And we’ll have amazing water pressure when we get there,” Yaz replied, grinning.

Her uncle leaned against a boxed toilet like it was a sports car. “You two take your time. Everything’s half price if you pay cash, unless you start asking too many questions, in which case it doubles.”

Alex was shaking with laughter now, genuinely impressed and mildly alarmed. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I know,” he beamed proudly, tossing her a tiny wrench key like a prize. “Pick your throne, Doc. You’ve earned it.”

.....

Alex was inspecting a freestanding bathtub like it was a newborn. “This is actually… gorgeous,” she said, trailing her fingers along the smooth enamel. “I love it.”

Yaz ran a hand over the edge. “You’d look amazing in this with a glass of wine and a tragic audiobook.”

Her uncle appeared at her shoulder like a genie with a dodgy accent. “That one’s from Italy. Don’t ask how it got here, just enjoy the fact it’s fifty percent off and never been reported missing.”

Alex burst out laughing. “I’m a doctor... I can’t believe I'm buying appliances with a criminal record!”

He gave her a wink. “That’s why I love you, all heart, no snitching.”

They moved on to the taps, where Yaz found a waterfall-style mixer in brushed brass. “This,” she said, lifting it like it was the Holy Grail, “is going in our bathroom. I will not be taking questions.”

Alex was already cradling a thermostatic matching shower set like it was a newborn kitten. “Do I need this? No. Will I take this to the grave? Possibly.”

“That’s what I like to hear,” her uncle rubbed his hands. “Now, you two wanna see the tiles?”

“Tiles?” Alex blinked.

He waved them through a side door into what looked like the “garden,” though it had long since been taken over by old pallets, wild weeds, and… dozens of mounted tile boards displayed like fine art.

Yaz clapped a hand over her mouth. “You’re having a fucking laugh… a full-on showroom? In someone’s garden?”

“Every square foot legally questionable,” he said proudly. “Some of these were headed for a spa in the Cotswolds until the van ‘malfunctioned.’ Real posh stuff.”

Alex was howling now, doubling over with laughter. “This is illegal paradise. Beautiful though.”

“We’re calling Sonya,” Yaz said, already pulling out her phone. “She has to see this.”

She hit video call, and after a moment Sonya’s tired but curious face filled the screen. “Hello?”

“You're not gonna believe where we are,” Yaz said dramatically, spinning the camera to show a wide shot of the backyard empire of tiles and hope.

“Oh my god...where the hell is this? Is that a fountain tile mosaic next to a barbecue grill?”

Alex leaned in beside Yaz, grinning. “Welcome to my uncle's House of Questionable Luxury. Everything you see here may or may not have ‘fallen off a lorry.’”

“So you’re kitting out my bathroom from some dodgy garden centre now?” Sonya snorted. “Alex, you dark horse!”

“Listen,” Yaz said, pointing the camera at the verity of tiles, “Just pick some. These are stunning. And he’s giving us the deal of the century.”

Sonya laughed.

In the background, Hakim suddenly popped into frame behind Sonya. “Ask if he’s got any decent kitchen taps!”

Alex’s uncle, never missing a beat, leaned into the phone. “Kitchen tap? I’ve got the tap. Stainless steel, swivel neck, pull-out sprayer, double pressure setting...class.”

“How much?” Hakim asked, squinting like it was a poker match.

“Well now, see,” he began, rubbing his chin like an ancient merchant. “If you take it together with all her lot...the tub, the shower, the Italian mixer, the tiles...I’ll give it to you for next to nothing.”

“How much is ‘next to nothing’?” he pressed.

“One-day-only offer, big man,” he grinned. “You take it all now, I’ll throw in extra washers. Spare washers! No one gives you washers these days.”

Alex looked like she was about to collapse from laughing. “He’s selling him with the passion of a man pushing gold bullion.”

“Oi,” Micky pointed at her, mock-serious. “Don’t mock the hustle, Doc. These washers are the good kind.”

.....

Back inside, Alex was hunched over a paint-splattered old folding table that looked like it had retired from the war. She was counting out notes like she was in some underground poker den.

Yaz leaned against the wall, arms crossed, grinning. “This is the most suspiciously wholesome crime I’ve ever witnessed.”

Alex’s uncle stood across from her like a proper dealer, nodding with satisfaction as the little pile grew. “Look at this. NHS money well spent.”

“Don’t start,” Alex said, laughing as she handed over the final note.

He held the cash up to the light like he was verifying it wasn’t printed at home. “Lovely jubbly.”

Then he slapped the table proudly. “Right! All of it’ll stay here, safe as houses, until the job’s done. Guarded by me, the pigeons, and Delores.”

“Do I wanna know who's Delores?” Yaz asked.

“Nope,” Alex said quickly, stuffing her wallet away. “Absolutely not.”

Alex’s uncle beamed. “And! As a special bonus, I’ll swing by tomorrow to fit your new shower and that fancy tap you couldn’t say no to.”

Alex blinked. “Really?”

“Well, I saw the look in your eyes. That was a woman who’s been bathing in sadness and budget hardware. It’s criminal, honestly.”

Yaz nearly choked. “He’s offering black market plumbing as family love language?”

“Alright,” Alex laughed, raising her hands in surrender then stepped forward hugging him tight "Thanks for this. You're a star"

"No worries kid..." he tapped her back. "See you tomorrow"

"Se you tomorrow" Yaz hugged him before they leave

.....


The dining table at the Khans' house was overflowing, lamb pilau, butter chicken, samosas, salads, and a questionable amount of naan for only five people. Plates clinked, Prem babbled happily in his high chair, and Sonya was halfway through dramatically reenacting Alex’s reaction to the “garden tile showroom” from the video call.

“I swear,” she gasped between fits of laughter, “Alex looked like she was about to call the police and take three showers at the same time!”

Yaz nearly spat out her food. “You should’ve seen her counting the money. Like she was doing shady arms dealing in Rotherham.”

Alex, mouth full of rice, raised a hand. "I was expecting the receipt printed on the back of a betting slip.”

Nadjia, smiling warmly, topped up everyone’s water glasses before turning her attention like a homing missile to Yaz. “So, darling… how are you feeling?”

The laughter quieted just slightly.

Yaz gave a soft smile. “Better, actually. Still a bit sore, but mostly okay now.”

“And when will they do the actual… you know, the main procedure?” her mum asked gently, in her no-nonsense tone that meant she was actually curious and not just being nosy.

"Alex can explain better...Don't ask me. I'm just here for the ride" she laughed

Alex, swallowing quickly, jumped in. “So, the next step is tracking her ovulation. Since her cycles are a bit irregular, we’ll be using test strips every morning to catch her LH surge, that’s when the hormone peaks just before the egg is released. When that happens, the fertility clinic will schedule the appointment within 24 hours, because that’s the optimal window for fertilisation.”

Everyone was nodding politely… until Yaz’s dad chimed in

“Right. So where exactly is your sperm coming from Alex? This some sort of freezer bank or... do they just bring it in a cooler box like a picnic sausage?”

Alex’s brain visibly cut out.

Yaz covered her face.

Sonya dropped her fork, doubled over laughing. “Daaaad!”

“I’m asking!” he defended, completely serious. “I want to understand how this works. If it’s frozen since she was a bloke, how does it stay alive? And what about...does it get shipped to your house like Amazon or what?”

Alex blinked. Then blinked again.

"Bloody hell dad!" Yaz rolled her eyes "Never mind him Alex"

“No...it's...it's alright..." Alex finally stammered" Well, no...not exactly...It… it gets delivered to the clinic. It’s cryopreserved in liquid nitrogen. And, um, thawed very carefully before...you know... the procedure…”

Her voice trailed off as she wished she could place a paper bag over her entire existence.

Yaz reached out and grabbed her hand under the table, squeezing gently. "You’re doing amazing, babe.” she whispered

Sonya leaned in from across the table, barely able to keep a straight face. “You want me to fake a fainting spell to distract everyone?”

Alex laughed, head dropping into her free hand. “Paper bag should do it.”

But Hakim simply nodded at her, totally unfazed. “Fascinating. They didn’t have this kind of thing when we were trying. All we had was....”

“NO ONE NEEDS TO HEAR THIS STORY,” Yaz and Sonya both shouted at once.

The table exploded with laughter.

And even through her mortification, Alex couldn’t stop herself from laughing. Because embarrassment was one thing, but being completely accepted for who she was, sitting in the middle of this warm, loud, slightly nosy family, was something else entirely.

She leaned over and kissed Yaz’s temple. “You owe me for this.”

“We'll settle the payment when we get home,” Yaz whispered back.

“Fine,” Alex muttered, stuffing a samosa in her mouth. “Forgiven.”

....


They barely made it to the front hallway before Nadjia was already loading Alex’s arms with containers.

“Here, biryani, chicken curry, daal, and that beetroot salad you like. And these are samosas, for freezing.”

Alex staggered slightly. “Is this… for the week?”

“Absolutely,” Mum said firmly. “You girls are busy. You shouldn’t be wasting time cooking when you’ve got things to focus on. Like conception.”

Yaz choked on her own saliva. “Muuum!”

“What?” she shrugged, already shoving another container into Yaz’s tote bag. “It’s not like you haven’t been talking about it all lunch. And...oh...wait...I almost forgot.”

She reached into the kitchen drawer like she was about to pull out a government document. What emerged was a battered old tin with faded flowers on the lid. Yaz recognised it instantly.

“No,” Yaz said, backing up. “You are not giving me that bloody tea.”

“It worked for your auntie,” Mum said, shaking the tin like a magic rattle. “And your cousin Shamila had triplets.”

“Exactly. That stuff’s nuclear,” Yaz muttered, as Alex stared at the tin like it might bite.

“What is it?” she asked cautiously.

“A blend of every seed, root, and dried leaf our ancestors ever boiled and drank while yelling at the moon,” Yaz replied dryly.

Nadjia smiled sweetly. “It’s fertility tea. Just a little cup each night.”

“I...uh...thank you,” Alex said, trying to balance a leaking tupperware, her bag, and Yaz’s mum’s hopes and dreams all at once. “I’m sure it’s… strong.”

“It smells like a forest floor,” Yaz whispered behind her.

“You’re taking it,” Nadjia said, pointing sternly at Yaz. “And no arguing. One mug. With honey.”

Yaz sighed in defeat. “Fine. But if I start seeing ghosts of my ancestors during a dream cycle, you’re explaining that to my therapist.”

Mum kissed both their cheeks in one sweeping motion, then waved them toward the door. “Go on now. Drive safe. And call me the minute anything happens. Anything...You hear me?"

“We’ll text you the minute I pee on a stick,” Yaz said sarcastically.

“You better,” Mum shot back, already shutting the door.

Outside, Yaz and Alex stood by the car, arms full of food and possibly ancient magic.

“Why do I feel like we’ve been spiritually hijacked?” Alex asked as Yaz was loading food the back of a car.

Yaz sighed, tossing the bag into the back seat. “Because we have. And you’re going to drink the tea with me like a good wife.”

“No I'm not,” Alex said flatly,

"Oh yes you are" Yaz grinned, sliding into the passenger seat. “Just wait. When we get pregnant, she’s gonna insist it was because of that bloody tea.”

Alex climbed in beside her. “Tell me again...Why am I agreeing to this?" She asked as she clicked the seat belt into place

"Cause you're a good wife and you share my pains" Yaz chuckled kissing her cheek

....


Evening had settled soft and warm over the flat, the last streaks of orange light slipping through the curtains. The kitchen smelled like leftovers and trouble.

Alex stood at the counter, arms folded, eyeing the mug in front of her like it might lunge for her throat.

“…Why am I drinking this again?” she asked slowly.

“Because you’re my wife,” Yaz said sweetly, stirring her own cup of mysterious brown liquid. “And in sickness, in health, and in weird ancestral tea, remember?”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “But I don’t even have the basic tool to make the baby anymore, Yaz. It’s literally your uterus on duty.”

Yaz shrugged, taking a cautious sniff of her mug and instantly regretting it. “Doesn’t matter. Shared suffering is what marriage is all about. Now drink up, womb-less wonder.”

Alex groaned. “If this tea grows me another dick, I’m suing your entire bloodline.”

“Agreed.” Yaz laughed

They clinked mugs like doomed warriors… and took a sip.

And immediately regretted everything.

“OH MY GOD!” Alex gasped, coughing. “It tastes like grave dirt and menthol! Fuuuck!”

Yaz was gagging, eyes watering. “I think I tasted… bark?”

Alex doubled over the sink, hacking into her sleeve. “There’s something mossy going on. Like I just licked the inside of a Hobbit’s shoe.”

Yaz flailed toward the fridge, grabbing yesterday’s biryani “I need flavour. Any flavour. Just not that.”

Alex grabbed a forkful and shoved it into Yaz’s mouth with military urgency. “Take the rice. I need a beer...or bleach!”

....

About thirty minutes later, the trauma of the fertility tea had been mostly neutralised by a double-dose of biryani, mango chutney, and a mutual agreement never to speak of the tea again.

Yaz stood by the counter now, wiping down the surface with a damp cloth, her hair clipped up messily, swaying slightly to whatever was playing low on the radio. The kitchen lights were warm, the flat quiet, soft domestic peace settling in.

Alex leaned lazily against the fridge, barefoot, sipping from a cold bottle of beer. Her lips left a little smudge on the glass as she tilted it back, her eyes never leaving Yaz.

Then, without a word, she set the bottle down gently on the counter and moved toward her, gracefully and unhurried. Her steps weren’t showy, just confident in that understated, feminine way Alex carried herself, hips slightly swaying, head tilted, wrists relaxed.

She came up behind Yaz, arms sliding slowly around her waist, her cheek resting against her shoulder.

“You smell like soap and spices,” Alex murmured, her voice low and honey-soft.

Yaz smiled, not stopping her slow circles with the cloth. “Better than bark and Hobbit’s foot.”

Alex let out a breathy laugh against her skin. “Let’s never drink anything our mothers hand us ever again.”

“Agreed,” Yaz said, setting the cloth down. “I still feel like that tea’s hiding somewhere in my esophagus.”

Alex placed the softest kiss on her bare shoulder, then another just behind her ear. “I think it awakened something, though.”

Yaz tilted her head slightly, amused. “Oh?”

“Mmhmm.” Another kiss. “Like… a deep primal need to press you against kitchen surfaces.”

Yaz let out a snort. “You are so full of it.”

Alex smirked, lips brushing her neck. “Maybe. Or maybe that tea was a potion and now I’m helplessly in love with you.”

Yaz turned around in her arms, smirking. “You were helplessly in love with me before the tea.”

Alex pretended to think. “True. But now I’m bewitched. Utterly cursed by your existence.”

Yaz laughed, draping her arms around Alex’s shoulders. “Terrible tea. Excellent side effects.”

They kissed, warm, sweet, and slow, right there by the counter under the hum of the lights. Yaz’s back met the kitchen cupboards.

She looked into Alex’s hazel eyes, felt her thumb graze her waist, and sighed with something softer than happiness, something deeper.

“God, I adore you,” she whispered.

Alex grinned, eyes flicking down playfully before she suddenly dipped her hands behind Yaz’s thighs and lifted her effortlessly onto the kitchen counter.

Yaz let out a surprised little laugh as her legs instinctively closed around Alex’s waist, her heels hooking loosely behind her. Her hands rose to Alex’s face, fingers gently tucking strands of soft hair behind her ears, then tracing along her jaw like it was a path she knew by heart.

Alex leaned in, lips brushing hers, a whisper of a kiss at first. Then Yaz pulled her closer, deepening it. Slow but heady. It wasn't rushed. It was the kind of kiss that lingered, a little open-mouthed, their breaths mingling, hands wandering. Alex’s fingers curled into the fabric at Yaz’s lower back, drawing her in like gravity wouldn’t do the job fast enough. Yaz’s palms slid down to Alex’s shoulders, thumbs stroking the slope where her neck met collarbone, grounding them both in that one charged, tender moment.

When they finally broke apart, just a breath between them, Alex rested her forehead against hers.

Yaz laughed softly, still tracing lazy shapes across Alex’s back. “So… sofa cuddle and movie night?”

Alex nodded, stealing another peck from her lips. “Absolutely.”

Yaz tilted her head, mock-innocent. “Can you make popcorn?”

Alex groaned. “After all that food?”

Yaz grinned. “Maybe it’s a side effect of the tea.”

Alex narrowed her eyes. “I knew that stuff was cursed.” she rolled her eyes backing away with one last brush of fingers along Yaz’s thigh.

Yaz giggled, hopping off the counter. “Come on, wife. Get used to my cravings before the real once start."

Alex sighed dramatically but was already heading for the cupboard. Sweet smile playing on her lips.

.....