![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
perfectworrytitle: Sleeping Arrangements
verse: Cactus Flower: Jazz Remix
community:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
runaway_tales
prompt: strawberry banana #16: "out of habit"
word count: 724
rating: G
summary: Mariel, Aya,and Tristan work out sleeping arrangements in their new relationship.
"You don't need to make Tristan sleep in the guest bedroom," said Aya. She sat on the edge of the double bed, shimmying out of her stockings while Mariel tried not to watch her out of the corner of her eye.
"Where would he sleep?" asked Mariel, herself undressing. They had been out late together at the theater, and her fingers were slow and clumsy with sleepiness. "The floor?"
"On the bed, silly," said Aya. "Honestly."
She skipped across the room in nothing but her underclothes and stuck her head out the bedroom door. "Tristan," she called, giggling. Prohibition or no Prohibition, Aya had still helped herself to a few glasses of wine throughout the course of the evening. Mariel heard Tristan's door open and Aya giggled again. "Mariel says you should sleep on the floor."
"I - what?" demanded Mariel, following Aya out into the hallway. "I said no such thing!"
"You did so," said Aya. "I said Tristan could sleep in here and you said he'd have to sleep on the floor."
"That's not what I meant!" Mariel flushed, her cheeks and ears turning pink and clashing violently with her auburn hair. "I - The bed is only so big!"
"Then we'll get a bigger bed. Tristan can fit in with us tonight."
Tristan, the object of this conversation, stood half in, half out of the hallway in an attempt to preserve some sense of modesty. He had become accustomed to seeing his wife in a suit, but not half out of one, with no shirt but her chest bound flat and slacks hanging loose on her hips. Aya was another thing entirely, and Tristan wasn't sure it wouldn't be cheating to admire his wife's girlfriend; Mariel, he thought, had excellent taste in women. (He flattered himself to think she had good taste in men, also.)
Mariel caught his eye and shrugged at him behind Aya's back. She knew by now that there was no arguing with her girlfriend when she got an idea into her head. "May as well," she said, although she looked skeptically at the bed. Softly, she added, "I've missed you."
But it was Aya who took a blushing and unsure Tristan by the hand and pulled him into the bedroom, still only half clothed himself. She flopped down into the master bed and wiggled to her side.
"Nightgown," said Mariel. "I'm not - neither of us are - getting into bed with you while you're still in garters." As Aya pouted at her and kicked down the blankets to finish undressing, Mariel added to Tristan, "it was horrible."
Tristan raised an eyebrow, but Mariel shrugged at him and laughed. There were some things they would never be able to explain to each other, but she started to feel comfortable knowing they would both always have their secrets. In some ways, it was like meeting for the first time again. She pulled an extra nightshirt from the wardrobe and tossed it to her husband, who had been interrupted while still in his trousers. She pulled on her own, and unbound her chest beneath the loose fabric of the nightshirt; Tristan wasn't surprised by her modesty, and said nothing as she tossed her slacks into the heap of Aya's clothing and crawled into bed.
"I see how it is, ladies," said Tristan, crossing his arms, but with a twinkle in his eye. Mariel and Aya had both lay in their respective sides of the bed, leaving no room for him. Mariel shifted to the middle, nudging Aya to the side. Tristan sat, only a little stiffly, beside her. This wasn't what he had expected when he went out to find his missing wife, but he thought he could get used to it.
"Lights are still on," mumbled Aya.
Mariel groaned. Tristan moved to get up, but she shook her head and climbed over him to turn off the switch and close the door. She shuffled down the hall and turned off the lights in the guest room where Tristan had been sleeping, and then the lamps in the master bedroom. Carefully, wary of any misplaced clothing, she made her way back into the bed and over Tristan.
Mariel pulled the blankets up over her head, settled down in between her husband and her girlfriend, and fell asleep.
title: Sunday Morning
verse: Cactus Flower: Jazz Remix
community:runaway_tales
prompt: strawberry banana #25: "oversleeping/sleeping in"
word count: 424
rating: G
summary: Tristan and Mariel have a conversation on a Sunday morning.
notes: may or may not directly follow the above story…
"Morning, sleepyhead," said Mariel. She looked from the Sunday paper to the clock on the wall. "Fancy seeing you before noon."
"Good morning, Mariel." Tristan settled into the seat next to Mariel, pushing her feet off the dining room chair. She handed him a section of the paper. "Aya's upstairs," he added, gesturing towards the staircase. Mariel could hear the water running.
"I assumed."
"I keep forgetting that you two already know each other. You've been doing this for, what? Four years, now?" asked Tristan.
"Two and a half," said Mariel, frowning.
"I wouldn't be offended if it was four."
Mariel made a face, but said nothing. Instead, she lit a cigarette and continued reading the paper. They sat in silence for awhile, before Tristan said, "You're already dressed."
"I went to mass while you two were sleeping," she explained. "Sloth is one of the Seven Deadly Sins, you know."
"Which sin are we committing, then?" asked Tristan. "I haven't been able to decide."
"You'd have to ask Licht," said Mariel. "He's the expert on Catholic guilt around here."
"Do you take communion?" asked Tristan.
"Not dressed like this, I don't," said Mariel. She folded her section of the paper on the table. "I haven't since…," she trailed off, not since your funeral. "I go to Confession, though." She paused. "Often."
"Are you sorry, then?" asked Tristan.
"Not really," admitted Mariel. "I'm content, Aya's happy. You seem pleased. Even Mr Scarlett likes this arrangement enough to keep paying our rent. Mrs doesn't, but she hates everyone, anyway." She wrinkled her nose. Tristan smiled.
"Then why bother?" he asked. "Seems like you're putting yourself through an awful lot. I had time to think," he added, before Mariel could even ask. "Stay in bed and sleep in with us next Sunday. I bet you'll be in a better mood, and you won't need to smoke so many of those," he added, gesturing to the ashtray at Mariel's elbow. Mariel made a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat and went to pick up the newspaper again. Tristan took her hand. "Stay in bed with us next week," said Tristan. "It was quite cozy."
"Oh, I don't know," said Mariel, but a laugh crept into her voice. "Laying in bed with your wife's girlfriend… There must be something in the Bible against that."
"That's why we need you," suggested Tristan. "It's not living in sin if we're married."
"And Aya?" asked Mariel, laughing now.
"Well, that's why you sleep in the middle."
verse: Cactus Flower: Jazz Remix
community:
runaway_tales prompt: strawberry banana #16: "out of habit"
word count: 724
rating: G
summary: Mariel, Aya,and Tristan work out sleeping arrangements in their new relationship.
"You don't need to make Tristan sleep in the guest bedroom," said Aya. She sat on the edge of the double bed, shimmying out of her stockings while Mariel tried not to watch her out of the corner of her eye.
"Where would he sleep?" asked Mariel, herself undressing. They had been out late together at the theater, and her fingers were slow and clumsy with sleepiness. "The floor?"
"On the bed, silly," said Aya. "Honestly."
She skipped across the room in nothing but her underclothes and stuck her head out the bedroom door. "Tristan," she called, giggling. Prohibition or no Prohibition, Aya had still helped herself to a few glasses of wine throughout the course of the evening. Mariel heard Tristan's door open and Aya giggled again. "Mariel says you should sleep on the floor."
"I - what?" demanded Mariel, following Aya out into the hallway. "I said no such thing!"
"You did so," said Aya. "I said Tristan could sleep in here and you said he'd have to sleep on the floor."
"That's not what I meant!" Mariel flushed, her cheeks and ears turning pink and clashing violently with her auburn hair. "I - The bed is only so big!"
"Then we'll get a bigger bed. Tristan can fit in with us tonight."
Tristan, the object of this conversation, stood half in, half out of the hallway in an attempt to preserve some sense of modesty. He had become accustomed to seeing his wife in a suit, but not half out of one, with no shirt but her chest bound flat and slacks hanging loose on her hips. Aya was another thing entirely, and Tristan wasn't sure it wouldn't be cheating to admire his wife's girlfriend; Mariel, he thought, had excellent taste in women. (He flattered himself to think she had good taste in men, also.)
Mariel caught his eye and shrugged at him behind Aya's back. She knew by now that there was no arguing with her girlfriend when she got an idea into her head. "May as well," she said, although she looked skeptically at the bed. Softly, she added, "I've missed you."
But it was Aya who took a blushing and unsure Tristan by the hand and pulled him into the bedroom, still only half clothed himself. She flopped down into the master bed and wiggled to her side.
"Nightgown," said Mariel. "I'm not - neither of us are - getting into bed with you while you're still in garters." As Aya pouted at her and kicked down the blankets to finish undressing, Mariel added to Tristan, "it was horrible."
Tristan raised an eyebrow, but Mariel shrugged at him and laughed. There were some things they would never be able to explain to each other, but she started to feel comfortable knowing they would both always have their secrets. In some ways, it was like meeting for the first time again. She pulled an extra nightshirt from the wardrobe and tossed it to her husband, who had been interrupted while still in his trousers. She pulled on her own, and unbound her chest beneath the loose fabric of the nightshirt; Tristan wasn't surprised by her modesty, and said nothing as she tossed her slacks into the heap of Aya's clothing and crawled into bed.
"I see how it is, ladies," said Tristan, crossing his arms, but with a twinkle in his eye. Mariel and Aya had both lay in their respective sides of the bed, leaving no room for him. Mariel shifted to the middle, nudging Aya to the side. Tristan sat, only a little stiffly, beside her. This wasn't what he had expected when he went out to find his missing wife, but he thought he could get used to it.
"Lights are still on," mumbled Aya.
Mariel groaned. Tristan moved to get up, but she shook her head and climbed over him to turn off the switch and close the door. She shuffled down the hall and turned off the lights in the guest room where Tristan had been sleeping, and then the lamps in the master bedroom. Carefully, wary of any misplaced clothing, she made her way back into the bed and over Tristan.
Mariel pulled the blankets up over her head, settled down in between her husband and her girlfriend, and fell asleep.
title: Sunday Morning
verse: Cactus Flower: Jazz Remix
community:
runaway_tales prompt: strawberry banana #25: "oversleeping/sleeping in"
word count: 424
rating: G
summary: Tristan and Mariel have a conversation on a Sunday morning.
notes: may or may not directly follow the above story…
"Morning, sleepyhead," said Mariel. She looked from the Sunday paper to the clock on the wall. "Fancy seeing you before noon."
"Good morning, Mariel." Tristan settled into the seat next to Mariel, pushing her feet off the dining room chair. She handed him a section of the paper. "Aya's upstairs," he added, gesturing towards the staircase. Mariel could hear the water running.
"I assumed."
"I keep forgetting that you two already know each other. You've been doing this for, what? Four years, now?" asked Tristan.
"Two and a half," said Mariel, frowning.
"I wouldn't be offended if it was four."
Mariel made a face, but said nothing. Instead, she lit a cigarette and continued reading the paper. They sat in silence for awhile, before Tristan said, "You're already dressed."
"I went to mass while you two were sleeping," she explained. "Sloth is one of the Seven Deadly Sins, you know."
"Which sin are we committing, then?" asked Tristan. "I haven't been able to decide."
"You'd have to ask Licht," said Mariel. "He's the expert on Catholic guilt around here."
"Do you take communion?" asked Tristan.
"Not dressed like this, I don't," said Mariel. She folded her section of the paper on the table. "I haven't since…," she trailed off, not since your funeral. "I go to Confession, though." She paused. "Often."
"Are you sorry, then?" asked Tristan.
"Not really," admitted Mariel. "I'm content, Aya's happy. You seem pleased. Even Mr Scarlett likes this arrangement enough to keep paying our rent. Mrs doesn't, but she hates everyone, anyway." She wrinkled her nose. Tristan smiled.
"Then why bother?" he asked. "Seems like you're putting yourself through an awful lot. I had time to think," he added, before Mariel could even ask. "Stay in bed and sleep in with us next Sunday. I bet you'll be in a better mood, and you won't need to smoke so many of those," he added, gesturing to the ashtray at Mariel's elbow. Mariel made a noncommittal noise in the back of her throat and went to pick up the newspaper again. Tristan took her hand. "Stay in bed with us next week," said Tristan. "It was quite cozy."
"Oh, I don't know," said Mariel, but a laugh crept into her voice. "Laying in bed with your wife's girlfriend… There must be something in the Bible against that."
"That's why we need you," suggested Tristan. "It's not living in sin if we're married."
"And Aya?" asked Mariel, laughing now.
"Well, that's why you sleep in the middle."
