#yes im tagging marcy even though she sleeps through this whole thing sdhfkdshfkdshfkdshf

[kaseyskat]

small little fluffy future au sashannarcy because im gay and i miss them 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“That must be difficult for you.” 

Sasha glances up at Anne’s untimely arrival, and she frowns. “What do you mean?” 

Anne gestures vaguely at Sasha’s lap, where Marcy’s slumped over, completely curled around Sasha’s chest. Arms wrap around her neck, and Marcy’s breath tickles as she breathes, peacefully sleeping. It had been mildly inconvenient when she plopped herself down for a nap, though, because Sasha had promised herself that she would have this blanket finished before their annual Amphibia visit, which falls in just a few weeks. Between work and classes and her lessons, she hardly has the time to just… sit down and work on her knitting. 

But how was she supposed to turn down Marcy? 

“It’s not too hard,” she finally says, looping the needle through the yarn. She has both of her arms curled around Marcy’s torso, working around her as Marcy sleeps. “Besides, she’s comfy.”

“And it’s time for her to wake up, or she’s not gonna sleep through the night,” Anne frets, stripping off her work apron- she had taken a job in the restaurant for now, though she’s taking classes to go into child psychology, slowly working her way through school even though it’s a challenge for her. Sasha’s proud. 

“You talk about her like she’s a baby,” Sasha points out, and she gently sets her needlework down to stroke Marcy’s hair out of her face. She’s freezing cold, her skin cool and damp in a way that would be concerning if they didn’t know any better. A permanent side effect of the rejuvenation tank, Marcy had explained once. “We’re adults now, sugar plum. If Marcy wants to nap, let her nap.” 

Anne sticks out her tongue - probably for the name, petnames did not work on her nearly as well as they did Marcy - but she doesn’t argue, just crosses the living room to plop down on the couch next to her partners. “Fine, Waybright. But if you stab her with your needle, I swear to all things froggy-” 

“You have such little faith in me, my love!” Sasha rolls her eyes, but she takes one more reluctant glance down at the woman sleeping in her arms and sighs. “If you want her so badly, you can just ask. I’m not a girlfriend-hog.” 

“I don’t-!” Anne cuts herself off, and Sasha snorts at the way her expression gives away her exact thought process. “Okay, fine. Give me Marcy. I’ve had a long day at work and I want her.” 

“Miss Boonchuy, that is not asking,” Sasha teases, but she still carefully untangles Marcy’s arms from her neck, shuffling her so that she’s laying in Anne’s lap instead. “You’re lucky I love you so much.” 

“Am I?” Anne teases right back, even as she carefully adjusts Marcy. Their smaller girlfriend lets out a sleepy whine at being moved, but doesn’t wake up, just curls into Anne’s warmth, clutching at Anne’s shirt. After all these years, she’s never stopped being so heart-wrenchingly adorable, even though they’re all grown up and matured. 

Sasha’s in love with them both so much it physically hurts. 

“Does the princess want me to put the tv on?” She asks, choosing to ignore Anne’s playful teasing. “I think we have some recordings of that reality tv show you like.” 

“That would be wonderful, actually.” Anne grins, making a big show out of propping her feet up on the coffee table, leaning back against the cushions with Marcy still sprawled against her. “Since you offered so nicely.” 

Sasha raises her middle finger. It just makes Anne laugh; Sasha doesn’t know when she lost all her malicious charm and intimidation factor, but she can’t say she minds so much, not when both of her girls look at her like she’s hung the moon in the sky, and she gets to be here with them for all eternity. 

Marcy makes another whimpering noise as Sasha turns the tv on, flicking through the programs to find their recorded shows. It’s one that she claims to hate, but she thinks Anne knows the truth, even if they both play along for old time’s sake. 

“It’s getting cold outside,” Anne murmurs, and when Sasha looks over at her, she’s toying with the fabric of Marcy’s shirt worryingly, skimming fingers over the spot where Sasha knows the skin is raised and bumpy. “We still have that cream, right? The gel stuff?” 

“You’re being smothering again, Annesy, dearest,” Sasha replies, picking back up her needlework. She picked such a needlessly complicated design, but she just has to outdo Percy next time they see each other, since he’s the one who first taught her how to sew, way back during the war. “Marshmallow will tell us when she’s hurting. If she doesn’t, we’ll just cuddle her until she does, you know the drill.” She pauses. “But yeah, we should still have some cream left. If we don’t, I have some aquaphor from my last tat leftover.” 

“Right, right, sorry.” Anne relaxes, and she stops messing with Marcy’s shirt, choosing to instead curl fingers into her hair. “You’re right. For once.” 

“Excuse you, I am always right.” Sasha scoffs, tongue flicking against her lips as she continues to work. “Now shush. I’m trying to work, you need to relax, and Marcy needs to sleep.” 

“Sheesh, so demanding.” Still, Anne quiets, and she scoots over just enough so that she can lean against Sasha’s side, watching the stupid reality tv show as Marcy slumbers on. Sasha can’t wrap an arm around her, but she does gently lean in as well, sighing as she enjoys her girlfriend’s warmth.