FORTY-FIVE
It is forty-five past midnight when they arrive home at last.
Well, she arrives—Maria, on the other hand, stumbles along, clinging to Tsubasa's arm and giggling quietly. Someone undoubtedly spiked the punch, of which Maria partook a little too much; she will have to scold Genjuurou for this tomorrow.
Rather, later today.
She sights, though Maria mistakes it for a shushing command and clamps her hand over her mouth, looking quite adamant about makes Tsubasa smile despite herself.
As soon as they enter their apartment, however, Maria kicks off her heels, discards her coat in the general direction of the coat rack, and throws herself onto the couch with a gratified laugh.
"I do hope you will not wake tomorrow with a hangover," she remarks as she tidies up the mess Maria left behind. If it were her own things, she would leave them, but Maria (when sober) insists on having everything as orderly as possible. Besides, Elfnein is still at that age where children mimic their role models, so she has to set a good example.
Unfortunately, she tarries too long in her thoughts, for when she returns to Maria's side, she finds her wife sound asleep.
She brushes the tips of her fingers along Maria's smiling mouth, murmuring, "You are such a handful when you are intoxicated. Now I have to carry you all the way to our bedroom, where you will make it as difficult as possible to get you changed into more comfortable clothes."
But she does not mind. For Maria, she would move the sun and the moon. For Maria, she would die.
"Hold your horses there," she mutters to herself as she carries Maria, bridal-style, to their bed. "No need to be so morbid."
Maria grumbles when Tsubasa shakes her awake, but she does put in an effort to put on her pajamas.
"Tsubasa," Maria manages to say, blinking in an effort to stay awake.
"Shh." She has to use all her concentration to unravel the pins in Maria's hair—it would be quite bad if she were to pull on the hair or accidentally leave some in. She honestly still cannot grasp why Maria likes these things so much.
"Tsu-ba-sa," Maria intones, almost scolding, "that's not nice."
Rolling her eyes, she replies, "Pardon me."
Maria sighs—strangely wistful.
"Are you… something on your mind, Maria?" she asks, studying Maria's sleepy expression as she runs a brush through Maria's hair a few times to smooth it out.
"I dunno," Maria leans into the touch, "jus' sorta… I dunno." Her eyes close again; just before she falls asleep, Maria mumbles, "We're gonna be parents."
She tucks Maria into bed. After she switches off the lights, she slips in beside Maria and whispers, "Yes, we are. Soon."