Prompt 17: Newlywed Life (15 Domestic Drabbles)
Rating: T

1.)

"Cynthia, can you reach the cereal for me, please?"

Cynthia nodded in response to her new wife's request, boosting herself up on her tip-toes to get the box on the top shelf of the pantry. She grabbed it in her right hand and brought it down to Dawn's eye level, allowing the black-haired girl to reach for it. The moment Dawn's fingers grazed the box, Cynthia pulled it away and lifted it over her head, far out of the reach of the smaller girl.

"Maybe I'll give it to you if you kiss me," she teased with a smirk.

Dawn smirked back, pushed herself up on the tips of her toes, and pecked Cynthia on the lips.

2.)

Dawn stretched out on the couch with a yawn, waiting for her newly-painted toenails to dry. She grabbed a handful of popcorn from the bowl on the coffee table, inelegantly stuffing it into her mouth, crumbs falling out onto the old Pokémon League t-shirt she had borrowed from her wife. Suddenly, a familiar clicking noise sounded from the other side of the room, catching her off-guard. Dawn looked up with cheeks full of food to see Cynthia standing in the doorframe, a huge grin on her face and her smart phone in her hand.

The younger girl swallowed her popcorn and made a noise of discontent. "Did you just take my picture, Cynthia?"

"Sorry," the blonde snickered, walking over to the couch and taking a seat next to her. "You looked so cute and funny that I couldn't help myself."

Dawn rolled her eyes, trying not to smile. "You'd better not post that anywhere."

3.)

Dawn hummed absentmindedly as she folded the recently-dried laundry, sorting each article of clothing into one of two piles, hers and Cynthia's. She worked quickly, having over the years developed a fast and efficient system: she did shirts first, pants and skirts second, then underwear, and finally socks. She finished folding the last pair of her wife's black slacks and reached for the first pair of underwear, folding it and placing it on the top of Cynthia's pile. Wait, that wasn't right. She picked it up again and moved it to her pile, furrowing her brow in confusion. That was right, wasn't it? She had seen those panties multiple times, she knew. But… had she seen them on herself? Or had she seen them on Cynthia?

"Um… hey, honey?" she began, getting her wife's attention.

The blonde looked up from her laptop. "Yeah?"

"Is this yours or mine?"

The older girl shrugged, returning her focus to her computer screen, clearly not terribly concerned. "I don't know. Does it really matter at this point?"

Dawn contorted her face in disgust and threw the underwear down in a huff.

"Yes it matters!"

4.)

Cynthia crept downstairs groggily, the flashlight app on her phone illuminating the path before her. She fumbled her way into the kitchen and over to the refrigerator, shivering upon opening the freezer. The blonde rummaged through the TV dinners and bags of frozen vegetables, eventually feeling her hand brush the carton of carefully-hidden strawberry ice cream. With great excitement, she pulled her precious frozen treat out of the freezer and pried the lid off, only to be met with crushing disappointment. Dawn apparently had found her hiding place and left Cynthia enough ice cream for about one spoonful.

"The things I tolerate for love..." she sighed.

5.)

"What are you doing?" Cynthia demanded the second Dawn's hand touched the thermostat.

The black-haired girl rolled her eyes and turned the dial anyway. If they had one point of contention in their marriage, it was the temperature in their home. Cynthia, who grew up in the far north, detested the heat and only saw it necessary to raise the temperature in dire situations. Dawn, who hailed from the southernmost part of the continent, naturally did not approve of this barbaric lifestyle.

"I'm making it warmer, obviously," she answered, shooting the blonde a glare. "I have no intention of dying of hypothermia in my sleep tonight."

Cynthia got up from her seat on the couch and slowly walked toward Dawn, a dangerous gleam in her amber eyes. She stopped when their faces were inches apart, and the two women stared each other down for a long moment.

"Change it back," Cynthia ordered calmly.

"Would you like to try to make me?" Dawn responded, matching her tone.

The next thing they knew, they were giggling and undressing each other.

6.)

"Where do you want to go to eat, babe?" Cynthia asked hesitantly. It was Saturday night and Dawn didn't feel like cooking, but given the hour they would have to leave the house soon if they wanted to get seated at a restaurant. Unfortunately, Cynthia knew the ensuing conversation would not be a quick one. When it came to dining out, Dawn was the most indecisive woman she had ever met.

"I don't care. You can pick," the girl in question responded, not looking up from her phone.

The Champion breathed a sigh of relief at how simple that had been. "Okay, great. Let's go get pizza then."

Dawn looked up, suddenly frowning. "We just had pizza."

Cynthia had to make a conscious effort to stop her eyes from rolling back into her skull. "Fine. Then let's have dim sum."

The younger Trainer's frown deepened. "I'm not in the mood for that tonight."

The blonde groaned, checking her watch impatiently. "The burger joint across from the Pokémart is good."

Dawn scratched her chin, mulling it over for a minute.

"No," she eventually said, returning her attention to her phone. "I'm trying to cut down on red meat."

The blonde pursed her lips, her patience beginning to wear thin. "Curry?"

"That restaurant makes it too spicy."

"Ramen?"

"Too much sodium."

"Tacos?"

"Hmm… no. How about crepes?"

Cynthia buried her face in her hands, almost feeling her blood pressure rise. "You know I don't like breakfast for dinner! Now would you just pick something we can agree on!?"

Dawn placed her hands on her hips defensively. "Crepes don't have to be breakfast, and it's not my fault you're shooting down everything I say!"

"I'm shooting down everything you say!? You rejected six options before you gave me one!" Cynthia exclaimed, her voice beginning to rise in volume. "Now can you please make a decision!?"

The younger girl thought for a moment before shrugging. "I'm not even that hungry, actually. Let's just stay home."

Cynthia nearly had an aneurysm.

7.)

"How do you like it?" Cynthia asked with an enormous grin. "Is it good?"

Dawn forced herself to smile and nod, disdainfully chewing the worst piece of fish she had ever eaten. Cynthia, despite her many talents, was a disaster in the kitchen. In the few months they had been married, Cynthia had made dinner for Dawn twice, and both times had been harrowing experiences for the younger girl. On the first occasion, the blonde had left the ravioli in the pot for too long, resulting in a mushy, watery mess that Dawn choked down with as much enthusiasm as she could fake. The second time was far worse. Cynthia had neglected to read the instructions in the cookbook, and took the chicken out of the oven ten minutes early. Dawn spent that night in agony, running to the bathroom every few minutes to vomit. To spare Cynthia's feelings, she blamed it on the flu virus that was going around, and to her knowledge, the Champion had fallen for it. As she laid in bed that night, she swore from that moment on she would refuse to try anything her wife prepared, her feelings be damned. Now, as she picked at the salmon filet that was cold and raw in the middle, she felt like a complete hypocrite.

"It's amazing, babe," Dawn said weakly, swallowing hard to keep the food down. "I could eat it every night."

8.)

"How come you never serenade me?"

The question was so unexpected that Cynthia momentarily forgot to swallow her coffee.

"How come I never… what?"

"Serenade me," Dawn repeated. "You know, woo me with music? Like lovers in books do?"

The Champion scrunched her face in confusion. "Because I don't play any instruments, my voice sounds like nails on a chalkboard, and you wouldn't enjoy it?"

"Well, I'd still appreciate it if you would try sometime," Dawn drawled, hoping Cynthia would get the hint.

The Champion smiled, taking another sip of coffee. "Fine, but don't say I didn't warn you."

9.)

"Hey!" Dawn scowled, pulling her plate out of Cynthia's reach. "You said you didn't want fries with your sandwich!"

Cynthia shrugged and leaned over to grab another fry. "It's called the Wife Tax," she said simply, dipping it in Dawn's ketchup. "We're married now, so half your fries belong to me."

"Fine then," Dawn huffed, pushing the plate back in the blonde's direction. "But I'll be applying that logic to your ice cream from now on."

Cynthia did not take another fry.

10.)

"You were amazing…" Dawn sighed, burying her face into the crook of Cynthia's neck. The blonde wrapped an arm around her wife and brought her closer, tracing little circles over her bare skin with her index finger.

"And you were… okay, I guess," she teased, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Dawn scoffed, nudging the Champion lightly with her knee. "Really? The noises you were making suggest otherwise."

Cynthia chuckled, urging her wife upward until their faces were inches apart. "I'm just messing with you. You were incredible. As always."

Dawn giggled, leaning down and placing a long, lingering kiss on Cynthia's lips.

"I'm going to get you back for all your teasing one of these days."

11.)

"Wow, this looks warm," Cynthia remarked happily, ripping the remaining wrapping paper off of her latest birthday present, a black and gray sweater from Johanna.

The older woman smiled at her daughter-in-law's gratitude. "I just hope it fits. I spent months knitting it, and I'd hate for it to be too tight."

Cynthia gave her a look of surprise and admiration. "You're saying you made this yourself?"

Johanna chuckled a bit at Cynthia's reaction. The sound was melodic, and the Champion couldn't help but feel her heart flutter. It reminded her exactly of Dawn's laugh.

"I made all of Dawn's clothes when she was growing up," Johanna informed her. "You should have seen that pink and black dress I sewed for her when she was thirteen. She wore it nearly every day until she outgrew it, I swear."

"Actually, I remember Dawn in that dress," Cynthia commented, slipping the new sweater over her head to try it on. It was quite soft and obviously made of high-quality material. A little form-fitting in the torso, but she preferred her shirts like that because they kept her warm. "This is a perfect fit! Thank you so much, Johanna!"

"You're welcome," she replied. "But I'd prefer if you stopped with this 'Johanna' talk now that you and Dawn are married. 'Mom' will be fine from here on."

Cynthia looked away to hide her smile, swallowing the lump forming in the back of her throat. She had never called anyone 'Mom' before.

12.)

Dawn couldn't take it anymore. All of the noise in her head was building and building. The discord, the screaming… it was too much to bear, and had to stop. She reached over and forcefully switched the car radio off, effectively putting an end to Cynthia's heavy metal marathon.

"I was listening to that," the blonde grumbled in annoyance, trying not to take her eyes off the road.

"I'm not compromising with you on this one," Dawn said firmly, crossing her arms and looking out the window. "You can listen to your screamo later… with headphones."

Cynthia gasped in offense. How could her own wife say such an insulting thing?

"It's not screamo, it's melodeath!"

13.)

Cynthia rolled over in bed, sliding closer to Dawn and wrapping her arms around her waist from behind. The raven-haired girl sighed contently, snuggling into her wife's warm embrace, and the Champion smiled into the back of Dawn's hair, closing her eyes and burrowing her head into the pillow. Just as Cynthia was on the verge of drifting off, she felt Dawn shift and turn to face her.

"Hey, Cyn?" she whispered.

"Yeah?" Cynthia responded sleepily.

"What are we going to name our kids?"

The blonde hummed in consideration, placing a small kiss on the side of Dawn's head.

"How about 'Victor' or 'Victoria?'" she proposed. "It's a strong name, fit for a future Pokémon League Champion. What would you pick?"

A smile touched Dawn's lips. "I always thought that if I had a girl, I would name her 'Verity' after the lake near my hometown. It's where I trained my Piplup in the earliest days of my journey."

"I like that…" Cynthia mumbled, dozing off with her wife in her arms.

14.)

"Can I do your hair sometime?" Dawn giggled, running her fingers through Cynthia's thick locks.

The Champion smiled good-naturedly, shaking her head at the request. "Dawn, I love you, and there's not a lot I wouldn't do for you, but that's one of those things that will remain off-limits."

"Why?" Dawn whined, pouting at the rejected offer. "Don't you trust me? Didn't I do a good job with the pedicure I gave you?"

"Of course you did!" Cynthia said hurriedly, afraid she had taken offense. "It's just… I have a lot of trouble managing my hair myself, and it doesn't style well. I don't like people messing around with it."

"Why not?" the younger girl protested again. "I just want to get that big cowlick on the back of your head out. It's bothering me."

"It's not a cowlick!" Cynthia huffed, now feeling offended herself. "It's a curl! There's a difference!"

"Whatever. The point is I can get it out for you with a straightening iron and some hairspray," the black-haired girl insisted.

"Fine," the Champion grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. "But that means I get to paint your nails later. And I'm choosing the color."

"Deal!" Dawn called out, already halfway up the stairs to retrieve her haircare supplies. "You're going to look so pretty!"

15.)

"So, what are you having?" Cynthia asked her wife as she eyed the menu carefully. It was a huge list, and there were at least fifty dishes to pick from, but her heart was set on her favorite: waffles and ice cream. She could almost taste it now. The semi-sweet waffle complementing the sweet ice cream, the heat of the batter rendering it a soft, melting mess that pooled like soup in the spoon… she was nearly salivating.

"Hmm… there are a lot of good choices," Dawn responded, closing her menu. "But I think I want the waffles and ice cream."

Cynthia fell silent for a moment, feeling as if the world around her had stopped spinning. What kind of cruel trick was fate playing on her? Why would the universe pit her against her own wife like this?

"I'm sorry, but you have to pick something else," Cynthia said sheepishly, looking down and playing with her silverware. Dawn raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"Why?"

"Because that's what I want," the Champion said, careful to keep her tone as kind as possible. "And we can't order the same thing. It looks bad."

"...You can't be serious."

"Please!" the blonde implored desperately, grabbing her wife's hand under the table. "We can't go on like this!"

The black-haired girl rolled her eyes, exhaling in exasperation. Why was the woman she loved such a weirdo?

"Fine," she sighed, wriggling out of Cynthia's grasp. "I'll have an omelette. But I hope you know that this is dumb and that you're the only person in the world I would do this for."

"I love you so much," the older woman whispered, her eyes clouding over with tears of adoration.

Dawn rolled her eyes, her lips curling into a smile at the theatrics. "Yeah, I love you too."