AUTHOR'S NOTE: I cross-post here (FFN), Archive Of Our Own (AO3), and Wattpad as alexanderavery998. If you find my fics anywhere else, please let me know, because that means they have been stolen and reposted without my permission.

Prompt: Photography

I love McFoster so much, so here's some domestic fluff. :3 As always, I love reviews, so feel free to leave them if you're so inclined! Enjoy :)

~ SNAPSHOT ~

Molly leaned against the door frame to the bedroom and knocked lightly on it to announce her presence. Reba was sitting cross-legged on her side of the bed, working away quietly on a new knitting project. At the sound, Reba's head turned in her direction, but her hands didn't falter or drop the stitch. Molly secretly loved to watch her knit. She was slow and steady, assured in her ability, and could do it while holding a conversation or with her concentration firmly somewhere else. It was enthralling.

"I found an old photo album while I was cleaning up," Molly said. "Can I share it with you?"

"Of course."

Molly entered the room and turned on the bedside lamp by her side of the bed. It was late afternoon, with the sun low in the sky and glinting off the snow in a way that gave the light coming through the window an odd muted orange quality to it, and the room had darkened considerably from earlier in the day. Reba had the bedside lamp on her side turned on, too, though she didn't really need it. She could perceive light and dark but nothing beyond that.

Molly sat down near the end of the bed and set the photo album on the quilt. "I forgot I had this album. It was in an old box that I hadn't unpacked in years. I took it from my parents' house to my marriages to here without doing more than glancing inside to check if I needed to keep it."

Reba ran her finger along the top row of her knitting, counting silently, before starting up again. "Describe it to me."

Molly touched the cover and then opened it. "The outside is brown. It's very plain; no design, no writing, no logo. It might be made of leather, I'm not sure. And it's old, old enough that the pages are yellowing around the edges."

Reba hummed. "What's in it?"

"Mostly childhood photos. My parents started it for me when I was born and gave it to me on my eighteenth birthday."

"Then it's very old indeed," Reba teased, and Molly groaned.

"I set myself up for that one, huh?"

"You did."

Molly smiled even though Reba couldn't see it, knowing that she had caught the wryness in her voice and would hear her smile, as well. "Keep teasing this old lady and she might decide not to share her old photos with you."

"Well, we can't have that, now can we?" said Reba.

She was smiling, too. It lit up her face and eyes, and affectionate warmth unspooled within Molly's chest at the sight. "No, we can't."

Molly flipped to the first page of the photo album and, once she was sure that Reba was settled in her knitting, began to describe its contents. The photos were chronological. They started with her birth: photos of her being held by her ecstatic parents and grandmother, of her coming home for the first time, of her in a frilly pale yellow dress that nearly swallowed her whole. Then came the baby pictures: being fed cream of rice, sitting in her father's lap, tugging on the family cat's tail, crawling for the first time. They slowly melded into photos of her as a toddler, where she was grinning widely next to a block tower she'd built, wearing her mom's high heels with red lipstick smeared across her face, or blowing out the candles on a Care Bears-themed cake.

"You know, I had a bowl cut as a toddler," Molly said, laughing, as she turned the page. "An honest-to-god bowl cut. I looked like a walking blonde mushroom."

Reba chuckled. "I bet you looked adorable."

"I'll let you pretend that I did. But once I hit kindergarten, my mom let me grow it out into a bob cut with bangs, and then I was adorable."

Molly saw Reba smile out of the corner of her eye, and felt a corresponding smile stretch across her face without any effort.

The photos became more spread out in time as Molly flipped through the pages. There was one of her dressed up as a witch for Halloween when she was about six, holding the family cat and wearing a huge black hat that fell over her eyes; her with a couple of friends at age eight, arms looped tightly around one another as they grinned at the camera; and a family photo at the zoo when she was nine, standing in front of the giraffe exhibit. Then they became more school- and social life-related: her at a birthday party in sixth grade, with her friends at their junior high graduation, in a play as a freshman in high school, and at her first homecoming dance, all dolled-up and awkward as hell.

Molly flipped to the next page and let out a little "oh," touching the photo in the middle of the left page with feather-light fingertips. "Oh, I forgot all about this one. That brings back memories."

"Mmmhmm?"

"Yeah." Molly sighed, pulling her hand away from the photo. "It's from the summer between my freshman and sophomore year of high school. It's me and my old best friend Lilah and her older brother, Jason. We're all in swim gear by their pool. I remember feeling very self-conscious about my body in front of them, because they were attractive and athletic. I felt dumpy in comparison."

Reba slowed her knitting. "Describe them to me."

Molly closed her eyes, knowing their appearances by heart. "Lilah was about average height, brunette, with straight shiny hair and brown eyes, while Jason was tall, with lighter, fluffy hair and the prettiest green eyes. Both were white, well-tanned, and athletic. Both popular and attractive and cool. I always sort of wondered why they hung out with me."

"Sounds like you had a crush on them."

Molly laughed and opened her eyes. "I did. I knew about my crush on Jason, but it wasn't until later that I realized I'd been crushing on Lilah, too. It was stereotypical and normal to have a crush on your friend's older brother. Not so much having a crush on your girl best friend."

Molly picked at a stray thread on the quilt. Outside, it had begun to snow again, filtering past the frosted window in big, fluffy flakes. The only thing she could hear was her breathing and the soft click of Reba's knitting needles.

"Lilah was a great friend. In junior high, there were these boys that would bully me and make fun of my name, because one of their grandmas was named Molly, and so they'd decided it was old-fashioned and embarrassing. They called me 'Crawly Molly' and would say 'Good Golly, Miss Molly!' whenever I was near them." Molly smiled wryly. "Looking back on it, their insults weren't the most creative, but they bothered me a lot."

"Creative or not, kids can be very mean. When I lost my sight, instead of 'four eyes,' kids called me 'no eyes.'"

Molly winced. "I'm sorry."

Reba shook her head. "Don't be. Tell me the rest of your story."

"Well, one day, I was already in a bad mood when they teased me, and so I started crying. Lilah was so mad that she went up to the ringleader and punched him right in the face. I'd never been so shocked in my life! Then, as he stood there holding his nose in shock, she told him that he only made fun of other people because he was insecure, and that he should get a life."

"Wow." Reba looked equal parts amused and impressed.

"Yeah, I know right? And the best part was that she didn't even get in trouble. The boy went to a teacher and cried about how she'd hit him, and the teacher told him that maybe if he didn't pick on people all the time, they wouldn't retaliate. He stopped being such a big bully after that. Lilah was deemed a hero by our whole class." Molly's heart clenched. "She was my hero."

Reba pursed her lips, catching the change in her demeanor and tone of voice. After a beat, she asked quietly, "What happened to her?"

"She died in a car crash during our senior year."

Reba sucked in a quiet breath. "Oh. I'm sorry."

Molly shrugged, but her eyes were prickling. "S'okay. I still miss her a lot. Jason, too. He was the one driving. He survived, but he felt so guilty about her death and was so distraught about it that he committed suicide a year later."

"Oh, Molly." Reba stopped knitting and set down her work on her bedside table before scooting to the center of the bed and putting her arms around Molly. "No one should have to go through that. I know that 'sorry's don't bring loved ones back, but I'm so sorry."

Reba rested her head on Molly's shoulder, nestled into the crook of her neck, and Molly leaned into her, placing her hands over Reba's and blinking back her tears. "Thanks, baby."

"Of course."

Molly cleared her throat. "Her sudden death was what ultimately convinced me to marry my high school sweetheart and travel with him as he tried out for various baseball leagues. I knew that I wanted him to be in my life, and I didn't want to regret waiting to marry or letting him go. It turns out I was right not to wait, because he died of cancer when Wally was just eight years old. We'd been married for ten years."

Reba squeezed her tighter.

"And then with Will, well..." Molly trailed off.

"Maybe let's not talk about this," Reba said, sensing Molly's shift in mood, and Molly sighed, squeezing her hand in gratitude.

"You're right. Want me to finish describing the photos?"

"Only if you want to."

Molly didn't move out of Reba's arms or even glance at the photo album, still left open near the end of the bed. "Maybe later. This is nice."

"Mmm." Reba made a sound of agreement and buried her face in Molly's neck. "It is."

The photo album ended up on Molly's bedside table while the women lay tangled in each other's arms, snuggled together under the quilt. It was dark outside now; the house was quiet beyond the occasional click clack-ing of the dogs' nails on the hardwood floor in the hall or other rooms. It was even quieter than usual, with Wally at a sleepover with a couple of his friends, and Molly was glad that she wasn't home alone. Sometimes she still felt anxious left alone in an empty house, straining her ears for the sound of creaking floorboards or footsteps that shouldn't be there. Perhaps Reba sensed this, for she squeezed her tighter and planted a soft kiss on her forehead.

"It's okay," she whispered. "You're okay."

Molly smiled gratefully and squeezed her back.

After a while, Molly dozed. When she awoke, Reba stirred and gave her another kiss.

"Good, you're awake. I was thinking, if you want... Well, we can take more photographs. I know we don't do it often now, but if it's something that would be meaningful to you..."

Warmth spread throughout Molly's body as if carried from her heart to her veins, engulfing in her in the reminder of just how much she loved her girlfriend. "Thank you for offering, you're super sweet. I want you to know it's not necessary, though. I would much rather enjoy the moment than have to pause to take a photo. When I'm with you...well, I don't even think about photos. And I mean that in the best of ways."

Reba let out a content little sigh. "Well that's good." Then: "I love you."

Molly held Reba tightly to her chest and felt their hearts beat together as one. She closed her eyes and imagined taking a snapshot of this moment in her mind, storing it away in a mental photo album, and smiled. "I love you, too."