Wally loves their apartment. He really does. The neighbors are quiet, there are no plumbing issues, the dog is welcome, the pure amount of space they have for what they're paying is amazing, and the best part is: it's theirs.
Still, there are a few things he'd change about it.
He wouldn't mind having a garbage disposal in the kitchen sink. It makes no sense to him why their landlord, Janice, would renovate the kitchen and not add one. The little window in the shower is just high enough for him to peek out of it, and every time he does look, he feels exposed. Artemis makes fun of him for it. She wouldn't find it so amusing if she was the one making awkward shower-eye-contact with every passersby who happen to look up at the exact moment she looked down. Janice could definitely stop dropping by at random hours asking if everything is alright. They're fine, thanks. They're always fine.
So, yeah, there are lots of little quirks yet to be unquirked. They're figuring it out.
But in these kinds of moments –the ones where the morning sunlight streams straight into Wally's eyes through the cracks in the old blinds, waking him up far earlier than he'd like, only for him to be greeted by the sight of Artemis sleeping beside him– he can't help but think that he wouldn't change a thing. Not the sink, not the window, not Janice (okay, no, the Janice problem needs to stay on the to-fix list).
Let the sun peek through the cracks in the blinds and wake him up every single day for the rest of time, so long as this is what he gets to wake up to.
Artemis is usually halfway through her morning cup of coffee by the time Wally stumbles out of bed, but this morning he gets to revel in the quiet comfort that is having her arm strewn over him while she snores with her face half-buried in her pillow. It's a gift, really, to see her so relaxed and unburdened. He'd take a picture if he could move without waking her up, but he can't, so he settles for trying to brand the image into his mind.
It's taken them a long time to get here. Sometimes he forgets that and he probably shouldn't. Forgetting is a gateway to not appreciating, and he'd never want to think that this wasn't the product of every high and low they'd ever gone through together. So he'll get better at remembering the little moments.
He's only halfway through embedding the sight in his head when she opens her eyes.
"Hey," Artemis whispers.
"You were awake," Wally says, and he sounds more surprised than he actually is. Should've known.
"I was," she says, closing her eyes as she continues to whisper. "I woke up awhile ago."
Artemis turns around, pulls the comforter up over her shoulders, and scoots back until she's flush against him. Wally turns and puts his arm over hers, lacing their fingers together comfortably.
"It's still too early for you," she notes, as she guides his hand to rest closer to her chin. "Go back to sleep."
"Can't," he says, and it's true. There's no going back to sleep now. "What were you doing while you were faking it?"
Artemis yawns through her answer. "Thinking of reasons why you'd be watching me sleep."
"Oh," Wally says, interested, "and what reasons were those?"
"Mmm, the usual ones," she starts. "My hair looks like it has a mind of its own, or maybe I forgot to take my mascara off last night and now I look like a raccoon. Or maybe you're feeling extra sappy this morning. The reasons don't matter. What I couldn't figure out was why you were awake so early."
"Sun in my eyes."
"Oh?" Artemis extracts herself from his hold, peers over at the window, and narrows her eyes at the cracked blinds on his behalf, "I'll fix that."
She starts to drag herself out of bed, but Wally pulls her back.
"It's alright," Wally says, returning them both to their original position, "Stay."
Artemis chuckles. "Ah, so you are feeling extra sappy this morning."
"Deal with it," Wally says, holding her tighter.
She laughs and pretends to try and wiggle out of his hold, but only succeeds in bringing them both lower on the bed. It's all fun and games until she places her freezing feet against his shins.
"Not cool," Wally whines, wincing away.
"I'm cold," Artemis says, pushing her feet further back to find solace against his warm legs.
"Keep your socks on for once?" Wally suggests, deftly avoiding her feet by using one leg to move the bed covers between their legs.
"Absolutely not," Artemis scoffs, trying to force her feet through the blanket-wall. "Stay still. I'm cold. Not everyone is blessed with the power to be a human space heater."
Wally pauses before he begins leaning over her.
"How cold are you?" He asks, unable to keep the smile on his face out of his question.
Artemis locks eyes with him as she turns to lie back flat on the bed. "Oh, do not–"
"How cold are you?" Wally repeats. He places one hand on each side of her pillow and props himself up above her.
Artemis places her hands on his chest in warning. "You will not–"
"Still cold?" Wally asks, descending upon her with his full weight, trapping her arms between them.
"No," Artemis laughs, trying to get out from underneath him to no avail, "you're crushing me."
"Better to be crushed than cold, says I, the human space heater."
"Dork."
Their combined laughter draws the attention of the only other occupant of the apartment and they only get a moment's notice (the tell tale sound of claws tapping against wooden floors) before the slightly-ajar bedroom door gets thrown open by their needy, lovable dog-child.
Wally, still snickering, props himself up, makes sure Brucely isn't about to jump on the bed, looks down at Artemis, and immediately takes back what he said earlier.
This is what he wants to have etched into his memory. Her face full of mirth, her hair spread in every direction, an open-mouthed smile, and her eyes, filled with a million things only she can say with a look, fixed on him. Maybe he can hang onto both moments.
"Wait-wait, come back here," Artemis laughs breathily, coming down from the high. "I'm cold again."
She reaches up and holds Wally's face in her hands.
"Come back here," Artemis repeats lowly, and Wally obliges by letting her guide him all the way down into a slow kiss.
Brucely, having no patience for such things and a pathological desire for attention, protests by barking loudly and knocking his head against side of the bed.
Wally groans into the kiss before he pulls away.
"What a character," Wally says, rolling over to lie between Artemis and the edge of the bed where Brucely whines.
Wally sticks one hand behind him and the dog places his head in prime petting space. "He'll sleep all day, unless he thinks we're having too much fun. Then he's wide awake."
"We should get up. He needs to go out," Artemis says, turning to place her palm against Wally's cheek, "and you need to shave."
"Yeah," Wally sighs, using his free hand to brush a lock of her hair away from his eyes, "and you need to brush your hair. I was being half-a-sap earlier. The other half was waiting for your hair to come to life and strangle me."
"Sure," Artemis says, a smile tugging at the corner of her lip. "Good morning, by the way."
"It has been a good morning, hasn't it?"
Neither of them make a move to do anything but stay in bed. They stay there for as long as they can (as long as Brucely lets them), tangled in the blankets, soaking in each other as the strips of sunlight that peek through the blinds drift over them.
That morning in its totality makes a hell of a picture. It's one Wally hangs onto when things change. It stays at the forefront of his mind, long after Janice hires a plumber to install a garbage disposal in the sink, after he puts a shade over the little window in the shower to get some privacy, and after the blinds are fixed and the sun doesn't shine into his eyes at the break of dawn anymore.
It's a much prettier picture to look at (laughter, her, the sun) than taking in the dark, breathtakingly empty space left in their bed by a plan that can't guarantee the space will ever be filled again. Remembering that morning makes the whole thing feel a little less like she's actually, truly gone, and more like this is just another low they'll get through. And while that thought gives him hope, Wally can't help but wish for one more morning like that, every day she's gone.