curled under a shared blanket on the couch, watching scary movies far later than advisable, clinging tighter to one another at each jumpscare

disclaimed

...

"Maya, promise you'll never let an obsessed neighbor murder me with a wood chipper."

"They'd have to go through me first," Maya says as steadily as she can manage, even as she flinches when the obsessed neighbor murderer that sparked the conversation chucks the last of the naïve farm girl into the wood chipper. Riley shrieks, catching the last of the scene from between her fingers, hands covering her eyes.

This was probably the worst idea they'd ever had. They're curled together on the couch attempting their bi-annual Scare Off; they'd started off in their normal places—Maya tucked into one corner, Riley into the other with her legs stretched over Maya's lap, but as the movies got scarier and the time got later, Riley had shifted closer, and then closer still.

At first, Maya was just pleased with the change of position, adjusting herself accordingly in order to wrap her arms around her then only slightly scared girlfriend. Now? Now she's using her terrified girlfriend as a shield, tucking her face into her hair when she thinks she's about to scream from whatever the next jump scare is.

So—yeah. Worst idea. It's nearly two am and Maya's too afraid to get off the couch, let alone close her eyes and try to sleep. From the way Riley's gripping her arm, she's willing to bet that she feels the same.

"Maybe—," Maya starts, eyes slamming shut at the newest jump scare, the murderer appearing in the rearview mirror of the final girl's car as she tries to drive off. "Maybe starting the Scare Off after work was a bad idea."

Riley squeaks in what Maya assumes is agreement, considering she's currently hiding her face in Maya's sweater.

Fifteen minutes later, when the final girl is standing over the dismembered villain and the scene fades to credits, Maya changes the channel to something innocuous, letting the droning voices of the QVC salesperson fill the room.

When she finally feels brave enough to stand, she's held back by Riley, hands fisted in the hem of her shirt. "Maya, don't leave," she pleads, eyes wide.

"Gotta grab the air mattress," Maya murmurs in response, tugging a reluctant Riley up with her on her second attempt. At her questioning look, Maya asks, "Do you want to sleep in there?" She points to their darkened bedroom, the door slightly ajar, shadows creeping out into the hall.

Riley shakes her head. Nodding, Maya begins to shuffle towards the storage closet, moving slowly and awkwardly with Riley still clinging to her. If she were to be honest, she'd say she didn't mind it one bit. Their home isn't large, but there're enough shadow filled corners that she can't imagine making the long walk down the hall alone.

It takes a little maneuvering, but eventually they get the air mattress out of the closet and the furniture pushed out of the way in the living room. "Don't turn out the lights," Riley requests, tugging the fitted sheet over the last corner of the mattress.

Maya nods, not mentioning that she had no such intention in the first place. Instead, she pushes the mattress up against the edge of the couch, dropping onto it and pulling Riley with her. They curl up beneath the covers quickly, slotting together like puzzle pieces—Maya on her back, Riley tucked around her, head on her chest.

For as scared as she was, it takes all of five minutes of Maya absentmindedly playing with her hair before Riley's asleep, breath coming in little puffs against Maya's collarbone. It takes Maya decidedly longer, getting up twice to check the locks on the door and on the windows, to close the bedroom door and push a dining chair up against the front door before she finally creeps back to bed.

She rolls Riley's deadweight to the side just enough to curl up facing her, arm over her waist. Riley cuddles closer on instinct, hand dropping to her hip, and when sleep finally comes for Maya, it's with warm and happy dreams.