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The Shape of Ordinary

Summary:

A little one shot.

Work Text:

Sunday mornings are for pancakes and minor negotiations.

Chloe is seven now, which means she has opinions. Strong ones. Currently, those opinions are about blueberries.

“They’re squishy,” Chloe declares, sitting cross-legged on the counter in Morgan’s old sweatshirt, sleeves swallowed past her hands.

“They are fruit,” Selena replies patiently, flipping a pancake with precise competence. “Fruit is squishy.”

“Not apples.”

Morgan leans against the fridge, coffee in hand, watching the exchange like it’s the best television she’s ever seen.

“She’s got you there,” Morgan says. “Apples are crunch fruit.”

Selena shoots her a look. “Do not undermine me.”

Morgan grins. “I’m supporting critical thinking.”

Chloe beams. “See?”

Selena sighs, but there’s no heat in it. She slides the pancake onto a plate, adds exactly three blueberries on top, and passes it over.

“Eat,” she says. “Then we’ll talk.”

Chloe hops down, victorious.

Morgan watches Selena move around the kitchen, efficient, grounded, entirely at ease in a space that once felt borrowed. It still hits her sometimes, the quiet miracle of this: mornings without fear, love without footnotes.

Selena catches her staring.

“What?” she asks.

Morgan shrugs. “You’re real.”

Selena snorts. “I hope so. Karadec would be very upset if I were imaginary.”

As if summoned, Morgan’s phone buzzes on the counter.

Karadec: Tell Chloe I expect her chess rematch next week.

Morgan smiles as she types back.

“She’s expanding her social circle,” Morgan says aloud. “Very intimidating contacts.”

Chloe looks up, mouth full. “Tell him I’m practicing.”

Selena arches a brow. “Practicing losing?”

Chloe gasps. “Mama!”

Morgan laughs so hard she almost spills her coffee.

Later, after dishes and cartoons and the gentle lull of a house that knows its own rhythm, Selena finds Morgan in the hallway, leaning against the wall, eyes closed.

“Tired?” Selena asks.

“Happy,” Morgan corrects.

Selena steps closer, rests her forehead against Morgan’s. No rush. No urgency.

From the living room, Chloe’s laughter floats down the hall.

Morgan opens her eyes. “We did good.”

Selena nods. “We did.”

Not everything needs to be loud to be permanent.

Some things just stay.

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