Work Text:
Thursday night means that it’s movie night. Jill can’t really remember when exactly the tradition started, but she and Claire are pushing a decade by this point, at least.
‘Girls night’ is what Chris calls it. Jill thought that was uncreative, but at least he had a name for it, she supposed.
It was a reprieve from work, from monsters, from everything. A sacred tradition that the two haven’t missed even once. Every single Thursday, Jill and Claire had managed to carve out time for the other.
Jill pretends like that’s all it means to her. Like she hasn’t spent nearly half of said decade pining for Claire.
It would be stupid, she tells herself. Might make things unnecessarily complicated, might blow up in her face, might completely end the friendship she has with Claire in the first place. That doesn’t even cover how she feels it would be a betrayal to Chris’s trust.
Who cares? She tries to tell herself. She’s an adult woman, she can make her own choices, and yet somehow that still holds her back.
She owes Chris everything. Dating his little sister would be…
Well, it would be great. She’s not really used to allowing herself to want things, it always leads to disappointment as far as she’s concerned, but Claire has become the exception.
Jill doesn’t even know if Claire likes girls. That’s a whole different can of worms she doesn’t want to get into.
It’s what she’s thinking about that night, more than usual, while an eighties action movie plays on her television. She and Claire are in their usual routine; set up on the couch with pajamas, blankets, and their own separate bowls of popcorn so they don’t have to share.
It’s cozy. Jill’s glad that even though she can’t count on much, she can count on movie nights. The guaranteed time with Claire every week… it means more to her than she cares to dwell on, if she’s honest.
She’s Jill-motherfucking-Valentine. She’s supposed to have a rough exterior that never cracks, supposed to have walls around her at all times, supposed to keep everyone at arm’s length.
Claire has broken through all of it. Every part of Jill’s body that screams it shouldn’t get too close to people crumbles whenever she’s around.
Claire gets it. She really gets it, not like any other short relationship Jill’s had in the past. She understands her, actually listens to her, doesn’t cross boundaries, has long, pretty red hair and bright blue eyes and lots of freckles and…
What was she thinking about?
“Jill?”
Jill blinks at the T.V. a few times before turning her head to the side. Claire’s looking at her with a furrowed brow. Her head rests on the back of the couch.
“Are you alright? Just look… lost in your head,” Claire says carefully. She’s one of the very, very few people who know everything about Jill. About Africa. Wesker. The scars.
She’s spent hours crying with Jill. Jill doesn’t deserve her. Forget her feelings for the woman, Claire’s perfection. It doesn’t take a crush for her to see that.
“I’m fine,” Jill lies, “I just had a long day at work.”
Claire frowns.
“Okay, bullshit. You don’t have to tell me everything, but you know I‘ve gotten good at reading you.”
Jill sighs and rubs the heels of her palms over her eyes. She leans back against the top cushion too, and studies Claire. Jill’s couch isn’t very large, and their shoulders are almost touching.
She opens and closes her mouth a few times, trying to decide what to say. Claire raises an unimpressed eyebrow at her.
“Spit it out, Jill.”
Jill’s about to lose her composure. What, she’s just supposed to say sorry, I’ve been thinking about you every day for years, and today in particular it’s killing me?
Hell no.
“I’m… it’s fine, Claire,” Jill says slowly. She can feel her face begin to redden.
Jesus, who is she? Fucking blushing like this?
Jill stares at her. She chews on her lower lip anxiously, and feels like she’s been possessed when she openly lowers her eyes to stare at Claire’s lips.
God, they look soft. Pink. Shiny with lip balm.
“Jill,” Claire prompts again, but her voice sounds airy. Jill likes it when she says her name like that.
Claire starts to lean in, her own eyes on Jill’s mouth, but stops halfway. She clears her throat and looks away.
“I’m sorry,” she says, “I shouldn’t be…”
“Why?” Jill whispers before she can stop herself. “Why not?”
Claire gapes at her.
“I… you and Chris, I guess I just figured…”
“He’s… not the Redfield I have eyes for. Never has been,” Jill says after hesitating slightly, leaning forward and resting a hand on Claire’s thigh. Her pajama pants are old, and the fabric is thin beneath her fingers. Claire’s body radiates heat.
“People told us our entire lives we should get together. I don’t see him as a brother, necessarily, but he’s… uh, not my type.”
Claire swallows.
“But you’re saying… you do have eyes for one of us.”
“Maybe,” Jill says softly, “unless it would freak you out.”
Claire leans forward again slightly. A little more sure, this time. Her eyes dip back to Jill’s mouth.
“And… what would you do if it didn’t?”
Jill’s grip tightens a little on her thigh. She leans in.
“I’d tell you to get over here and kiss me.”
Claire sits up so quickly that her bowl of popcorn topples to the floor.
“Oh, shit—“
“Fuck, leave it,” Jill groans, crawling forward herself to grab Claire’s face and kiss her roughly. Claire tenses up for a moment before she pulls Jill by the shoulders. Jill just about collapses on top of her, laughing darkly against Claire’s jaw.
“Eager,” she murmurs, shifting her body above Claire’s to lay atop her more properly. The blankets are tangled around her legs, and she huffs as she tries to kick them aside while maintaining her lips on Claire’s. She feels like it’ll kill her if she stops kissing her.
Claire meets each of her kisses sloppily, burying her hands in Jill’s hair, who settles with her legs holding Claire’s apart.
“So are you,” she pants against her lips, licking along the seam to get Jill to part them. Her tongue darts into Jill’s mouth, and the other woman runs a hand down her body to rest on her hip.
“Have you—mm—seen yourself?” Jill says between hard, breathless kisses. She digs her fingers into the fabric of Claire’s pants. Jill feels like she’s on fire.
She eventually has to pull away to breathe, and Jill stares down at Claire, looking slightly dazed. Claire’s cheeks are as red as her hair, and her lips are swollen and parted slightly.
“You might be the prettiest girl in the world, Clairebear,” Jill says softly, running her thumb along Claire’s jaw. Claire leans into her touch, lolling her head forward. Her bangs hang in her face, and Jill tucks them behind her ears.
Claire pretends to pout.
“What, only ‘might be?’ Rude.”
Jill laughs and toys with the hem of Claire’s t-shirt. She leans down to brush her lips over her ear.
“Ask me again when you’re naked and flushed under me.”
Claire moans and cups Jill’s face to kiss her again, deeply and just as desperately as before. She nips and licks at her lips. Jill sighs above her and wedges her thigh between Claire’s legs. She presses her knee down gently against Claire’s core, who parts from Jill with a gasp.
Jill takes the opportunity to duck her head and press her lips to the warm skin of Claire’s neck. Claire’s hands slide up her back, running over circular scars and taking Jill’s tank top with them. It bunches up halfway up Jill’s spine.
“Wanted this for so long,” Jill mumbles into Claire’s neck, grazing her gently with her teeth. Claire’s fingers curl into her skin.
“You have no idea how many times I’ve gotten off over the years thinking about you, Claire… fuck.”
Claire whines, and her hips rolls up into Jill’s, who grins wickedly against her skin.
“You like that?”
Claire pulls back and buries her face in Jill’s chest, licking at the tops of her breasts from where they peek above her tank top.
“Just can’t believe the feeling’s been mutual this long—“
Moving her leg, Jill slides a hand between Claire’s legs and presses down with her palm. The other woman hisses.
“—oh, you feel so much better than a vibrator…”
Claire moves her mouth higher, lips sliding clumsily over the scar tissue on Jill’s chest. Jill whimpers, hand jerking against Claire, whose hips chase her fingers.
“Claire,” Jill says, and she has to bite her bottom lip hard because emotion is threatening to spring into her eyes. She’s hardly ashamed of her scars, not anymore. It’s just that nobody’s ever kissed her like this.
Claire gently scratches her nails down her back in a soothing motion. Jill’s head bows forward, and she takes in a deep breath.
“You’re beautiful,” Claire whispers. Her breath is warm against Jill’s skin. She pushes Jill to be at an arms-length, sweeping her eyes shamelessly across her body. They linger at her hardened nipples poking against her tank top.
Jill sweeps Claire’s hair away from her face and trails her hand down her cheek. She gives Claire a soft smile and moves her hand down to drag along Claire’s neck. Lower still, to her collarbone, and then she hooks her fingers in the collar of Claire’s old band tee.
“And you… needed to be naked about ten minutes ago.”
Claire giggles and sits up slightly, raising her arms over her head.
“Be my guest, Officer Valentine.”
Jill scoffs, pushing Claire’s shirt slowly up her torso. Slowly enough that Claire starts to squirm and Jill has to tense her thighs to keep her in place.
“Hurry up…”
“We’ve waited this long. You can wait a little longer.”
Still, Jill lifts the shirt over her head and drops it off the side of the couch. Claire’s pajama pants follow, and those are essentially thrown— they wrap around one of the legs of Jill’s coffee table.
Jill’s eyes roam hungrily over Claire’s body. Her skin is pale but flushed and covered in freckles. She’s sporting a few scars, some short and some deep-looking and some narrow.
She’s wearing a matching lace set, red, obviously, and as gorgeous as it is, it’s not close to anything someone would wear for a normal night in.
Jill smirks down at Claire.
“You had plans tonight?”
Claire laughs and leans in to give Jill kitten licks along her jaw.
“You have no idea,” she murmurs, voice hoarse, “been wearing sets every week, just in case, for years.”
Jill groans and hoists Claire’s legs over her hips, pressing their bodies together tightly. She grinds her hips forward roughly, Claire moans, and Jill swears she can feel how wet she is through her shorts.
“You’re so fucking hot,” Jill breathes, tightening her grip around Claire’s thighs.
Claire winks up at her, head falling back as Jill rocks forward again.
“You aren’t so bad yourself, sweetheart,” Claire teases breathlessly. Her cheeks are red and her chest heaves. That, combined with the equally red lace of her underwear, makes Claire look like she’s some kind of fiery goddess.
Which she is. It’s breathtaking.
“You’re right, though,” Jill says, reaching around Claire for the clasp of her bra, “you are the prettiest girl in the world.”
Jill gets her bra undone with an easy motion, and Claire shrugs out of the straps. More perfect, smooth skin is revealed to her.
Claire doesn’t shy away from Jill. She puffs out her chest slightly, grinning, and teasingly drags a hand down her own body. Jill’s eyes follow her fingers as they move down the valley between her breasts, to her stomach, then to the waistband of her panties—
Jill catches Claire’s hand and presses her lips to her knuckles. She pins it above her head and rocks against Claire again.
“Let me,” Jill says too quickly. She’s too eager for this. Wants this too badly. Wants Claire.
Claire lifts her hips in invitation, and Jill lets go of her hand so both of her own can map over the expanse of Claire’s body. She takes her time and makes sure to run over each scar with her fingers.
When she reaches her panties, Jill decides that she’s waited long enough and moves directly past the waistband to find Claire’s heat. Claire gasps and grips Jill’s shoulders, rutting into her hand.
Jill’s fingers rub over Claire’s clit, moving in small circles as her other arm strains from supporting her weight above her.
She can’t believe how wet Claire is already. The other woman writhes under her hand, pushing her hips against Jill feverishly. Her breathing quickens as Jill applies pressure to her clit.
Jill takes her hand away suddenly, and Claire whines, but it’s just so she can rid her of her panties. The front of the lace is damp. Jill wonders what would happen if she sucked on Claire through her underwear.
Her pussy clenches around nothing at the thought.
When Claire is fully, finally naked, Jill moves her hands down to grip the meat of Claire’s ass and squeezes. Claire’s legs wrap around her waist and she kisses her slowly.
They lay that way for a while, as if the desperation for the other has been washed away. Like they’re both realizing that they have all the time in the world. In Jill’s home, wrapped around the other on a bunch of blankets, they’re free to be themselves and take their time.
Their mouths move together in a soft rhythm, lips sliding smoothly and tongues stroking together. Claire is the first to up the intensity again. Her arms wrap around Jill’s neck and she arches into her, rubbing her hips over Jill’s shorts.
From there, their kisses become hot and wet, full of spit and teeth. Claire digs her heels into the small of Jill’s back, pressing their bodies flush together.
She keeps it up until she can’t breathe, only then separating herself from Jill’s mouth but keeping their foreheads pressed together. Jill’s hands dance up her ribs.
Jill pulls back and untangles herself from Claire with a sigh, slowly moving to get to her feet. She stands from the couch and keeps her eyes trained on Claire’s as she hooks her fingers around the waistband of her shorts.
Claire watches, lips parted, as Jill pulls the shorts down her legs and tosses them aside.
Her mouth starts to water. Jill isn’t wearing panties, and stands in just her tank top in front of her.
Claire barely gets to take in the sight when Jill drops to her knees and crawls forward, reaching out for one of Claire’s legs and tugging on it gently.
“C’mere. Wanna taste you,” Jill slurs. Jesus, she’s already entirely drunk on the woman. Claire eagerly shifts on the couch, sitting up to sit on the edge of one of the cushions, right in front of Jill’s face.
Jill rests her cheek on Claire’s thigh and looks up at her. Her hands rub up the length of Claire’s legs.
“So damn pretty,” she muses. “Jesus, Claire, can’t believe you even want me in the first place.”
Claire leans back on one of her hands, making her hips jut out closer to Jill’s nose. Jill can smell her arousal, and heat pools low in her stomach.
Claire’s other hand tucks Jill’s hair behind her ear and tilts her chin up.
“You kidding? Been crazy about you for years, Valentine.”
Jill seriously doesn’t think she can take it anymore. She wants to tease Claire further, get her more riled up than she already is, but she might not survive that.
She doesn’t even warn Claire before she dives between her legs. Claire chokes on an inhale, plunging her hands into Jill’s short brown hair. Jill laps at her like she’s starving, meeting Claire’s wide eyes from where she’s knelt on the floor. She hooks her arms under Claire’s thighs and adjusts them so they sit atop her shoulders.
“Tastes—“
Jill groans.
“—mmfffuck, so good, Claire.”
Claire’s hips roll into her mouth. She holds back, keeping each thrust shallow, until Jill hums and pulls her thighs closer to the edge of the couch.
Jill’s tongue traces the outside of Claire’s lips, then dips just a little further, prodding at her entrance. Claire lurches, keening as Jill’s fingers sink into her thighs.
“So good.”
Jill’s tongue sinks into Claire, and she’s able to press her nose firmly against her clit. She tilts her jaw up, and Claire moans loudly.
“Holy fuck—Jill—you’re fucking tongue—“
Claire’s back arches and her hips press more insistently against Jill’s chin. Jill shudders each time she pulls gently on her hair.
She’s so wet. When she presses her thighs together, the insides of them are damp. She wouldn’t be surprised if she came just from eating Claire out.
Jill lavs at Claire’s folds, fucking her on her tongue and swallowing everything she’s given. Claire reaches down to shakily brush Jill’s hair out of her face, then nearly falls back against the couch as she sucks on her clit again.
Jill’s thighs rub together again. The pressure is starting to become unbearable.
“Dammit,” she whispers, letting go of one of Claire’s legs and snaking a hand down her own body. Her core aches, and when Jill shoves her fingers through her folds, she finds herself even wetter than she guessed.
Jill’s moans are muffled as her middle finger sinks inside of her own heat. Her body clenches around the digit, greedily sucking it in further, and she swears again. The rumble from her voice travels up Claire’s spine, who cries out and tenses her thighs around Jill’s head.
Wet, obscene sounds fill the space of Jill’s living room. Claire’s slick drips down her chin. She can’t even hear the movie that’s playing on the television.
Claire yanks on Jill’s hair, thighs trembling, and her eyes roll back. Her hips buck frantically against her face and Jill’s struggling to focus between eating her out and fingering herself.
Claire rubs herself against Jill’s nose, whining in her throat, and Jill pulls her closer to the end of the couch, licking and sucking relentlessly on Claire.
She adds a second finger inside herself, pressing at her walls and moving just enough to offer some relief.
“Use me,” Jill gasps between strokes of her tongue, “use my face, baby.”
Claire lets out a series of breathy moans. Jill can’t get enough of it. She curls her fingers inside of herself and screws her eyes shut.
“Oh, god,” Claire pants, “Jill… you’re— fuck, fuck, fuck— so good at this—“
She’s all but riding her face. Jill sucks in breaths when she can, but still tries to get Claire closer. Her cunt clenches around her tongue.
“Jill— ‘m close,” Claire gasps, fingers tightening in her hair. Jill hums and Claire grinds against her face desperately. Jill barely pulls up to breathe, just shoves her tongue deeper inside of Claire and fingers herself more quickly.
Claire breathes Jill’s name over and over again, her voice gradually growing louder and pitching up. It makes Jill feel dizzy, and she’s moaning into Claire’s cunt as her thumb bumps against her own clit.
“I’m gonna cum,” Claire whines, “Jill, please, don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop don’t stop don’t—“
Claire cries out at the ceiling as her orgasm washes over her, shooting up her spine like lightning and spreading heat through every inch of her body.
Her thighs lock up around Jill’s head, and Claire bows forward with a shudder. Jill licks at her sopping cunt, relishing in the wetness on her face as she tries to press herself impossibly close to Claire.
Claire moans wantonly through her orgasm, muscles tensing as her hips stutter. Jill holds down her thigh and licks into Claire’s pussy again, addicted to how she tastes.
She’d happily stay there forever, but Claire eventually whimpers, too sensitive, and reaches out to pat Jill on the arm a few times.
Jill pulls off of her with a gasp. Her face is slick with Claire, and she grins lazily up at her, wiping her mouth.
Claire’s eyes finally focus on the hand that Jill’s furiously working between her legs. She moans as her body quivers through aftershocks.
The taste of Claire still lingers on Jill’s tongue. Jill wants more, but Claire looks boneless on the couch as she catches her breath.
Jill’s struck again with how gorgeous she is.
“Shit,” Jill whispers, sitting back on her heels and staring up at Claire with wide eyes. Her fingers move hurriedly between her legs, the sound wet and loud. Jill gasps, clenching around her digits.
“Mmf… Claire…”
Claire very gracefully falls off the side of the couch and practically tackles Jill to the carpeted floor. She yanks her tank top over her chest and places a hand over the one Jill has between her legs.
Brows furrowed and tongue between her teeth, Claire feels Jill’s movements before she gently bats her hand away and replaces her fingers.
Claire lets out a breath as two of her fingers sink deeply into Jill’s fluttering pussy. She clamps down hard around Claire with a moan that she tries to muffle behind her hand.
Claire clicks her tongue and curls her fingers forward, moving them at a steady pace. Jill’s already stretched herself out plenty, and each curve is smooth and slick.
“Don’t hide, Jill,” she pants. “I wanna know how good I’m making you feel.”
Jill swallows—she knows she can get loud as hell—but relents with the pleading look in Claire’s eyes.
“Can’t say no to you,” Jill moans, “fuck, baby.”
Claire bends down to suck on one of Jill’s tits, creating small bruises around her nipple, which she purposefully avoids until Jill ruts into her hand and makes a ragged sound.
“Redfield.”
Jill grasps at the breast Claire isn’t occupied with and arches her back.
“Harder,” she moans, “Claire, come on…”
“Say ‘please,’” Claire mumbles. Her fingers work in and out of Jill at a steady pace, just barely grazing that spot inside of her.
“Fuck you.”
“I am—“
“Claire, please,” Jill huffs, “fuck you, please fuck me harder—“
Claire roughly slots their mouths together and pistons her fingers in and out of Jill. She swallows each gasp the other woman lets out, and pushes her tongue against hers.
“Feel like I can’t get enough of you,” Claire breathes, saliva connecting their lips, “Jesus Christ, Jill, you don’t even know…”
She spreads Jill’s legs out further to get her fingers even deeper. Jill’s thighs tense, her jaw goes slack, and that’s how Claire knows she’s found the spot she’s looking for.
“Claire,” Jill grits out, “right there…”
Claire scissors her fingers in time with each thrust of her hand, and Jill writhes on the floor. Her slick drips down Claire’s knuckles.
“Gonna cum,” Jill gasps suddenly, like she’s surprised it’s caught up to her this quickly, “I’m gonna—Claire, please, you’re so beautiful, need more of you, please please please—“
Jill doesn’t know why she starts begging, but she rambles to Claire as her stomach tightens. Jill grasps at Claire’s back and shudders.
“So good for me—fucking me so well, that’s— oh, fuck, Claire, please, Claire, angel—“
Jill’s climax is announced with a sharp cry, and her nails sink into Claire as her body tenses and shakes. Her cunt pulses uselessly around Claire’s fingers, which continue to work in and out of Jill at a fast pace so she has something to ride through her orgasm.
Her moans bounce off the walls and sweat glistens on her skin. Claire’s arm tenses as she flicks her wrist, mashing her palm against Jill’s clit.
Eventually, Jill’s legs stop shaking and she collapses against the floor. Claire withdraws her fingers from her pussy and meets Jill’s eyes as she brings her fingers to her lips and sucks on them.
Claire makes a show of dragging her tongue from her wrist to the tip of her middle finger, catching the wetness on her tongue. She groans appreciatively.
Jill pushes up on her elbows, eyes softening as Claire giggles and sits with her back against the bottom of the couch.
Jill thought that maybe, if this line were ever crossed, it might make her panic. She was expecting there to be a crushing weight in her chest, expecting the feeling of knowing that she’s fucked up and there’s nothing she can do about it.
That kind of crushing weight does not come. Instead, Jill feels as if she’s been wrapped in a blanket, warm and secure, and that feeling only envelops her further as she looks at Claire.
Her ponytail is half out, her bangs fall around her face messily, and she has a few bites and bruises across her shoulders and up her neck.
Her smile is wide, just as radiant as ever.
Claire moves her hand across the carpet, blindly searching for something until her fingers close around Jill’s shorts. She holds the bundle out to her.
“My lady,” she teases. Jill snorts and accepts the shorts, standing to put them on. Claire follows, retrieving her underwear set from where it lays discarded next to the side table on the end of the couch.
The pair are silent as they dress. Jill’s brain is surprisingly still, filled only with pleasant thoughts of Claire’s body against her own.
The woman in question bends down for her shirt, back in the lacy red underwear, and Jill wants to fuck her all over again as her eyes scan the curve of her ass.
She shakes herself out and throws her tank top back over her head. Jill rounds the coffee table and kneels again, picking up the kernels of Claire’s fallen popcorn that had been long forgotten at this point.
Claire reaches out a hand to stop her.
“Don’t—“
Jill smiles up at her.
“Get dressed,” she says softly. “I got it.”
Jill deposits the rest of the popcorn back into its bowl and leaves to place it on the kitchen counter to clean up later. She stops by her fridge for two bottles of water, and brings those out with her as she returns to Claire.
Claire’s just stepping into her pajama pants when Jill returns, and almost gets hit in the face when Jill tosses the bottle of water at her.
“Holy—“
“Sorry!” Jill cackles, stepping towards her with her arm outstretched. Claire fumbles with the water bottle, slippery with condensation, before she’s able to get a firm grip around it.
She looks from it to Jill with a stunned expression and lets out an exasperated laugh.
“I knew it. All this time, lulling me into a sense of comfort, giving me the best sex of my life, just to kill me. Oldest trick in the book.”
Jill uncaps her own water and raises an eyebrow at Claire.
“Best sex of your life, huh?”
Claire plops back down on the couch and sets her water in her lap so she can fix her ponytail.
“God, yeah. Came so hard I think my entire life flashed before my eyes.”
Jill laughs.
“Taking that with pride.”
Claire sips from her water and glances over at the television screen. The credits to whatever they had been watching are going. Her face reddens.
“Should we… rewatch this movie next week? I wasn’t really… I mean, paying attention.”
Jill smiles at her and sits back down on the couch.
“I thought maybe next week we might break tradition finally, and I could take you to dinner?”
Claire grins and reaches over to take one of Jill’s hands in hers. She runs her thumb over her knuckles.
“I’d like that,” she says softly.
Hand in hand, they sit quietly for another moment. The credit music plays at a low volume and fills the space.
Claire finishes off her water and shifts awkwardly, before swinging her legs over the side of the couch.
“Sorry, I should probably—“
Jill almost panics.
“You—you, uh, don’t need to leave just because the movie is over. You could… you could stay. If, you know, you want.”
She wrings her hands together. She can’t piece together why this woman flusters her so much.
Claire pauses halfway through sitting up, then flops back down and groans dramatically.
“Okay, thank god. I wasn’t ready.”
Jill sits down next to Claire, then cautiously scoots closer to her when the distance feels too far. Claire gathers Jill close, wrapping her arms around her shoulders and laying back.
Jill goes with her, and tangles her legs with Claire’s so she can lay with her head on her chest. Claire runs her fingers through Jill’s hair, combing it to the side.
“I’m glad we did this,” Jill murmurs, “just sorry it took so long.”
“Don’t be,” Claire says softly. “We had our own shit going on—one of us more than the other. Maybe it’s for the best that we didn’t do this until we got ourselves figured out.”
Jill hums, the corners of her mouth titling up.
“I’m just glad for the time we have now,” she whispers. Jill gropes around the couch for a blanket and pulls it up over the two of them. She cuddles up closer to Claire and breathes her in.
Claire kisses the top of Jill’s head.
“I’ll wake you before you have to go into work tomorrow,” she offers. Jill shakes her head.
“Don’t. I can afford to be late for once.”
She yawns, and rubs her fingers in a soft pattern over Claire’s stomach. Her eyes glaze over and she smiles to herself.
“What’re you thinking about?” Claire asks sleepily.
”You,” Jill murmurs back. Claire squeezes her arms around her gently.
”Right answer.”
Jill chuckles and buries herself deeper against Claire’s chest.
“Hope I dream about you.”
“I hope I dream about you, too.”