Raising Isla | ENGLOT AU

Chapter 11: Life Lately

There was an intimacy to it - though still a foreign one to Emery, in being able to share Calhpso's bed without actually, biblically, sharing her bed. A brand of coziness she was still letting herself get used to. In the quiet moments of the morning when she was alone in the world, habit making her wake minutes before her work alarm and allowing her the chance to just watch Cal sleep - to enjoy the simplicity of being here with her.

It happened too easily now, at the end of evenings spent chasing after the cataclysm that was the loud three-year-old now living with her, that Calypso's bed just seemed so much more attractive than Em's. Mostly because it was closer, she told herself. And Twig, more often than not, joined them in the evenings anyway so it wasn't like she had any commitment or need to return to her own apartment.

But Isla had so far had remained oblivious. The excuse of the clinic allowing Emery to slip out long before she technically needed to, and she might have been lying to Calypso about her work hours - just a tiny bit. But maybe she'd subtly cleared out a compartment of her drawers in the hopes she'd be brave enough to casually adopt the space, though nothing was spoken out loud. So perhaps she wasn't the only one being sneaky. It wasn't fair, she knew, to try to classify their behavior under the same tree, when Cal's had been far more welcoming than hers. She was trying. But she still felt on wobbly legs about the whole situation.

It was Friday night that tripped her. Waking up warm and dozy under the soft cotton of Cal's bedding, and wearing pajamas that were probably the most sinless thing she owned, her arms stretching out to release the sleep from her limbs and finding the heat of Cal's bare stomach across the mattress. Something like a smile playing over her sleep-addled face that she buried it into the crook of her elbow. Calypso wasn't awake yet, she could feel it in her breathing. But it took her a few more slow heartbeats to become conscious of the fact sunlight was streaming in through the curtains. Far, far too brightly.

Her head shot up of the pillows. What time was it? Scrambling to find her phone sat over the bedside cabinet, the truth of it becoming clear to her.

It was the weekend. She had no alarm.

She felt the bed shift, the matress dipping as Calypso rolled closer, her eyes stubbornly refusing to open but Em could tell now that she'd awoken, even if only partially. The feel of her arm tangling around her side only further proof of that; she tended to be more cuddly when still half under the clouds of sleep.

But Calypso has always been bigger and heavier than her, and she couldn't help but feel trapped under the weight of her, unaware if that had been her intention or not.

"Calypso," She protested, her reply little more than a grumble. "I need to get up."

"No, you don't." She countered, slow and lazy, her eyes still closed. "It's a Saturday. Your Saturdays are with us."

She didn't have anything to fight against that, other than the fact their Saturdays had been left practically redundant now that she spent more time here than not.

"What about Isla, what if she sees me here?"

"I hardly think Isla is going to mind that she gets to have breakfast with the both of us for once." Cal said, her voice low and gentle. She found herself hypnotised occasionally - when she spoke, but this time she didn't push away the feeling. Allowing herself to settle back against the bed as she conceded. Moving to snuggle up against Cal as she ignored the warnings in her mind that perhaps this was a little bit too comfortable.

I don't care. I don't care, the thought brazen and loud in retaliation. Because Calypso was so warm; her head tucked under the crook of her neck so perfect, and the feel of her arms wrapped around her so right. Letting the awareness bloom in her chest until the words were falling out of her mouth without even the slightest taste of friction she'd grown accustomed to.