Fran cannot sleep on top of the covers.
Penelo knows this.
Penelo loves this.
Fran is standing naked, and it is a magnificent feat of balance as she stands tight calved and shoeless on her tippy toes, an equally bare Penelo suspended in one arm, and the long clawed fingers of her other hand peeling back the tousled nest of covers.
The orphan wheezes in her sleep, her head heavy on Fran's shoulder. Affection is a curious thing, for Fran, in her state of heightened hearing, manages to find her lover's snoring adorable rather than heinously irritating.
Slowly, carefully, she lowers the younger girl, her muscles making her fully aware that she is not as young as she once was. Every inch is an exercise in anxiety, the possibility of Penelo waking and voiding all of her effort a daunting threat.
Finally, with patience comes success, and the Viera sighs contentedly, her prize nestled beneath the sheets next to her. She shifts onto her side, arm snaking across Penelo's bare belly, and closes her eyes.
"Fran?" Penelo whispers, voice cottony with sleep. She smiles, the Viera's ear quirking as her eyes remain shut, exhaustion overwhelming her. Penelo kisses that ear, lips tracing her words.
"I love you."