"Medb, honey, are you okay?" Scáthach mumbled, nudging her wife's shoulder gently. The cabin was pitch black, the moon casting a soft glow through the porthole. The gentle rocking of the cruise ship lulled the night outside, the quiet rhythm of the waves a soothing lullaby.
Silence. Then, a rustle of the bedsheets. Medb bolted upright, eyes wide and unseeing. "I must go," she murmured, sliding out of bed with surprising grace. Before Scáthach could react, she was up and moving across the floor.
Scáthach blinked, the sleep thick in her eyes. "What on earth are you doing?" she asked, a hint of amusement in her voice. But Medb was already at the door, reaching for the handle with a determination that was both puzzling and endearing.
The door clicked open and Medb slipped into the hallway, her bare feet making no sound on the plush carpet. Scáthach sighed and swung her legs over the side of the bed. "Guess I'd better go get you," she said to the empty room, a smile tugging at her lips. She shuffled after her, the ship's corridor stretching out like a never-ending hallway in a dream.
As she turned the corner, Scáthach heard a faint tune wafting through the air. It grew louder as she approached the grand staircase. The melody was eerily familiar—it was the theme from Titanic. She squinted into the darkness, spotting a flicker of movement. There was Medb, her nightgown fluttering like a ghostly apparition, floating down the stairs. Scáthach's heart skipped a beat, not from fear, but from the absurdity of the moment. She had to stifle a giggle.
The music grew louder, and Medb, in her sleepy state, began to sway and twirl, her arms outstretched like she was Jack and the staircase was her Titanic. The sight was so ludicrous, so utterly Medb, that Scáthach couldn't help but feel a rush of love for the woman who could turn even a simple nighttime stumble into a cinematic performance.
But the real show was just beginning. Medb's sleep-walking had always been a bit of a spectacle, but this was something else. She glided down the stairs, dodging invisible obstacles with the grace of a prima ballerina. It was as if she were navigating an invisible dance floor, her movements so precise and elegant that it seemed choreographed.
Scáthach, still in her pajamas, trotted after her, trying not to trip over her own feet. "Medb, you're going to wake the whole ship," she called out, but the music drowned her words. She couldn't help but watch in amazement as her wife pirouetted around a luggage cart, then leaped over a rogue shoe that had been left in the hallway.
The chuckles bubbled up inside her, threatening to spill over. She knew she should probably wake Medb up, but the scene was just too amusing. Plus, she didn't want to interrupt her mid-performance. Who knew what kind of interpretive dance she'd come up with next?
As Medb reached the bottom of the stairs, she spun around dramatically, her eyes still closed. The music swelled, reaching its crescendo just as she opened her eyes and saw Scáthach standing there, hands on her hips, trying not to laugh.
For a split second, Medb froze. Then, she broke into a grin, a glint of mischief in her eyes. "I'm the king of the world!" she declared, throwing her arms wide, and Scáthach couldn't hold it in anymore. She burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the quiet ship.
Medb blinked, looking around in confusion. "What's going on?" she asked, the music now a faint echo in the background. "Why are you laughing?"
Scáthach wiped a tear from her eye, still chuckling. "You just gave me the best wake-up call ever," she said, shaking her head. "Come on, let's get you back to bed before you cause an international incident."
Medb's grin grew even wider, and she took Scáthach's hand. "But the ship isn't sinking," she protested playfully, her sleep-addled brain still caught in her Titanic fantasy.
"No, but if the captain sees you moonlighting as a sleep-walking dance instructor, he might just give you a role in the next cruise's talent show," Scáthach teased, leading her back towards their cabin.
They walked through the deserted hallways, the soft carpet muffling their footsteps. The Titanic theme continued to play, adding an unexpected soundtrack to their midnight escapade. Medb looked around, her eyes glazed with sleep, a hint of embarrassment creeping into her smile. "I guess I got a bit carried away," she murmured.
Scáthach squeezed her hand. "It's okay," she said. "It's just one of the many reasons I love you."
Once back in the cabin, Scáthach helped Medb into bed, tucking her in gently. Medb's eyes were already starting to droop, the excitement of her sleep-walking adventure fading into the comfort of the pillows. "Goodnight, my love," Scáthach whispered, planting a kiss on her forehead.
But before she could climb back into bed herself, she had to capture the moment. Pulling out her phone, she turned on the flashlight and recorded a quick video of Medb, still smiling in her sleep. She'd show it to her in the morning, and they'd laugh about it over breakfast.
The night had taken an unexpected turn, but it was a memory Scáthach would cherish forever—a reminder that even in the most mundane of situations, Medb had the power to make her laugh until her sides ached. As she climbed into bed beside her wife, the gentle rocking of the ship lulled her back to sleep, the Titanic theme still playing faintly in her mind, a reminder of the whimsical dance they'd shared in the stillness of the night.
