Work Text:
Drilling.
Hammering.
On a Sunday morning.
Noises that Tina didn’t miss living in a penthouse apartment in the middle of Toronto. Soundproofing was a blessing.
Until now. The noise was close. Too close.
Tina leaves the bed, hair tousled, and her forehead creased from where her face has been smushed into the pillow. The crease deepens as the volume of drilling increases.
Arriving barefoot in the kitchen, Tina confirms the source.
Yes, Bette is drilling at 8 a.m. on a Sunday.
“What the fuck are you doing, baby?” Tina asks as she slides open the patio door.
“I couldn’t sleep. Found some planters in the shed.” Bette shrugs, nonchalant in a way that Tina has grown fond of at this point in their marriage. “I’m fitting them for you.”
Tina softens. “Oh.”
Bette flashes a smile that says, Is that okay? I hope so.
“I love you,” is all Tina can say in response to that smile.
Bette blushes.
“You still blush,” Tina chuckles. “It’s been almost 30 years.”
“And I’ll be blushing for 30 more if you keep saying things like that.”
Tina steps forward, kisses her cheek, and watches the pink flourish.
“I will. And thank you. Now can you put down the drill so we can make coffee?”
Bette grins.
“I have a better idea.”
Back to bed it is.