Disclaimer: The characters depicted in this story are of my own creation and any resemblance to characters from Xena: Warrior Princess is not meant to infringe on the rights of Studio USA or Renaissance Pictures and is purely for entertainment purposes only.

Subtext Disclaimer: This story refers to a loving relationship between two consenting adults, who happen to be of the same sex. If this offends you, or you are under 18 years of age, or you reside in an area where this type of material is illegal, read no more. There is plenty of general fanfic out there for you. Go find it.

Please send all comments to asdease1@gte.net

Enjoy, I hope.


Written by FlyBigD

As each unique flake descended, indistinguishable in it’s singular fragility, it lent itself to the formidable swirling cascade raising the opaque horizon. A world disguised in varying shades of white reflected in grey-green eyes. Momentarily obscured by their encasement of long blonde lashes, the twin orbs returned to gaze upon the compounding monochrome landscape. Mesmerized by the totality of white, Coy watched as winter’s fury buffeted a leafless forest. Separated from the snowy chaos by a thin pane of glass, she stood at the window listening to mother nature howl out her anger and felt it’s icy chill seep through the protective barrier. “God. We’re not going to be able to get out for days.” Her whispered words creating a small patch of fog on the glass, she continued to stare outward in apprehensive awe.

Across the room, Cole sat lengthwise on a green paisley sofa watching her wife as intently as Coy watched the storm. Caught up in the beauty of the shadowy silhouette, an unconscious smile played across her lips, while her fingers ran through soft hair the color of a golden halo. Gently stroking her son’s sleeping head as it rested in her lap, she stared at his mother with a serenity bordering on reverent wonder. Ever amazed at how the mere sight of Coy could invoke a surreal warmth within her, Cole studied her wife through crystal blue eyes, biased in their appraisal. Though hidden beneath an oversized navy blue sweatshirt, which was initially purchased to augment Cole’s wardrobe and then blatantly misappropriated, and a pair of jeans so worn they threatened to disintegrate with every wash, Coy’s subtle contours could still be seen.

Shorter than Cole’s long leggy body, Coy’s compactness contrasted her natural grace, giving her a statuesque stature without the necessity of height normally associated with the term. A true contradiction to behold, she was fluidity wrapped around an underlying strength. From the ground up, her body radiated a subliminal power, yet maintained a definitive softness. Calves and thighs well muscled from years of pursuing unattainable heights in her leisure time, she stood as solidly as the mountains she climbed. Her hips, merging the power below with the power above, curved outward slightly in a rounded outline reminiscent of a well crafted hour glass. Upward still, a narrow waist gave way to a sculptured back and torso fraught with a muted salient sensuality. From there the paradox continued with shoulders, arms and hands capable of bearing twice her weight up the side of a sheer cliff by her finger tips, only to be transformed into a passionate embrace, or in an instant becoming a gentle cradle with which to soothe a frightened child. And then, as a cherry is placed atop a masterpiece of ice creamy delights, Coy’s face was the apex of the outward beauty that lay below it. Blonde hair framing pale skin, lightly freckled across a button nose. Cheeks, round and high, ever tempting to be blushed. Lips full, pink and soft, and perpetually inviting a kiss. Gray-green eyes sparkling like evergreen leaves moistened in an early morning dew that had captured Cole’s undivided attention from the outset. The gates to Coy’s soul accentuated the visage of playful innocence and eluded to deeper understanding.

Wanting to continue her assessment with a discourse on her wife’s inner beauty, which included compassion, kindness, tenderness and a plethora of other admirable qualities, and to explore the conversely irritating ones of tenacity, stubbornness and the a fore mentioned affinity for misappropriation of comfortable clothing, Cole was interrupted from her pending revelry by a series of muffled grumblings very close to her ear. Regretting having to do so, she looked away, turning her head to the left to watch as their daughter worked her disgruntled way to consciousness.

Holding Brin on her shoulder with one arm, she marveled at the obvious inherent disdain for waking exhibited in a two year old face that could pass for her own at that age, since loathing waking up was one of Coy’s distinct personality traits. To the point of preferring to sleep on Cole’s shoulder over something more comfortable, her daughter fulfilled the embodiment of her wife’s persona down to the smallest detail. On the other hand, Nick was the spitting image of Coy and was the personification of Cole in the form of a two year old boy. As if they’d been reincarnated into each other’s body, there was no question as to who their children belonged to, if explaining that fact left listeners more than a little bewildered, which did not exclude the twins grandparents. But that was a story to be told when Cole wasn’t covered by a pair of napping toddlers on the verge of becoming non-napping tummies wanting to be filled.

“Coy.” Cole said softly, returning her attention to her wife.

Gently broken out of her snowy hypnosis, Coy sighed as she turned away from the world outside. Absently running her fingers through her short blonde hair, she shivered, shaking off the lingering tendrils of cold that had permeated her clothing and her body. Her features marked by an expression derived from a growing apprehension she’d developed while at the window, she shook that off as well when a pout ridden face appeared beside Cole’s smiling one. “Oh no. I know that come hither look.” Keeping the identity of which brunette she was referring to in doubt, she closed the distance to both with a secretive smile. Leaving disclosure to the last possible moment, she bent down placing a kiss on Cole’s lips while lifting Brin into her arms. Cradling her daughter against her shoulder as her wife had, Coy sat down on the coffee table in front of the couch to check on Nick’s progress. Not surprisingly, she found him wide awake and in true Cole fashion, apparently waiting for someone to take notice. “I see you, mister. You can’t fool me. You’re not sleeping.” Reaching out, she tapped his nose with the end of her finger, eliciting a boyish giggle from her son.

“What? He’s awake?” Cole asked in mock dismay at having been hoodwinked. Taking her son by the shoulders, she gave his small body a thorough imitation thrashing. “You little faker. I thought you were still asleep. I could’ve been half way to Kooka Monga by now, if you hadn’t been lolly gagging all over my legs. Get off me, you little freeloader. Off, off, off.” Making a feigned attempt at tossing Nick by wiggling her legs, Cole grunted and groaned dramatically, pulling not too harshly on him, when he encircled her right thigh with his arms and refused to budge. “Give it up, wonder boy. You’re no match for the likes of me. Errrrrrrrrrrrr.”

Coy chuckled and rolled her eyes. “Just what I needed. A ring side seat for the grudge match of the century.” She said sarcastically and stood to move out of harms way. “You two keep working up an appetite and I’ll see what I can find in the way of sustenance.” Resettling Brin on her hip, she left the ruckus of the living room for the relative quiet of the kitchen. “Okay. What’s on the menu for today? Belay that.” Making a quick correction, Coy shook her head. “What’s the easiest thing to fix? Oh, yes. That sounds much more appealing.” Nodding in self agreement, she began opening and subsequently closing oak stained cabinet doors in her search for the quintessential quick meal. Taking half steps sideways, she worked her way around the horseshoe shaped room to no avail. Delayed in her task, but undaunted by her failure, she deposited Brin on the dark blue counter. “You sit there and I’ll check what’s in the fridge. How does that sound?”

One tiny finger tugging at the side of her mouth, Brin lowered her head, with it’s sudden woeful expression. “Mama.” She said in a voice almost too soft to hear.

Coy’s shoulders slumped visibly inside the sweatshirt. As much as Nick was a rambunctious little boy determined to redefine the terrible in terrible two’s, his sister wasn’t. Although entirely capable of defending herself when pressed, Brin preferred being held after waking than being wrestled with. A trait she inherited honestly, Coy recognized the same basic need for security she often felt and never found lacking in Cole’s reassuring arms. “It’s okay, sweetheart. We’ll check the fridge together. Up you go.”

Raising her head, Brin held out her arms expectantly and was lifted into two stronger ones. Laying her head on the soft material covering Coy’s shoulder, she nuzzled her forehead into the curve at the base of her neck. Sighing contentedly, she watched the world go by from the comfort of a loving embrace.


The quintessential quick meal, also known as dinner, turned out to be less quick than planned and was acquired from multiple source, and prepared once Brin had been held to her satisfaction. Then she was placed on the counter to assist her mother with putting the meal in order by clapping her hands when the toast popped out of the toaster. And for this invaluable service, she was awarded a piece of toast, properly cooled for her safety to sate her craving and a kiss to the forehead. Finding the latter as pleasurable as the former, she continued to happily oversee the operation, munching on her toast until it came time to move along to the next phase, when her services were called upon again. This time, rather than clapping her hands, Brin used them to carefully carry a plate out of the kitchen into the dining room. Followed closely behind by Mama, who carried the other three plates, she successfully maneuvered around obstacles much larger than she was and came to a halt beside the dining table. Raising her plate in victory, it was removed from her grasp soon after and placed out of sight. Now toastless and plateless, she gazed up at the towering figure holding her empty hands skyward in the universal sign for wanting to be picked up. “Mama.”

Needing no secret decoder ring for this one, Coy none the less shook her head. Pointing in the direction of the living room where peals of boisterous laughter coupled with intermittent threats of bodily harm. “You go get Mom and Nick, and I’ll get the rest of the stuff. Can you do that for me, please?” There was a quick nod before a dark curly haired little girl dashed off to bring the fray to an abrupt end and return with the combatants in tow. “Thank you.” Coy said after the fact and went about fulfilling her end of the bargain.

The combatants as they were, were unaware of the fast approaching end to their fun. Tangled in a mass of human flesh, Cole was manifesting all the outward appearances of someone being crushed under a insurmountable weight. Flat on her back, arms and legs flailing about, she was giving a splendid performance while Nick made valiant attempts at portraying the insurmountable weight, much to his infantile delight. After suffering innumerable belly blasts, he’d gained a foothold on supremacy by taking advantage of a miscalculation on the part of his opponent and leapt off the coffee table onto Cole’s back when she knelt down to tie her nonexistent shoe. Ending their hastily made truce in the process, he then put forth the monumental effort required to maintain his precarious hold on victory. This translated into wrapping his arms around her neck and growling furiously until she fell over. Then it was only a matter of time before his superior skills overwhelmed the waylaid warrior.

These events occurred rather quickly and only minutes before the bearer of bad timing came whizzing around the couch to dispense with formalities by delivering a simple, yet effective message. “Mama say come.” Assuming a stance she’d seen Mama use in similar circumstances, Brin put one hand on her hip and shook the other one to emphasize the seriousness of her instructions. “Git up, Mom. Nick off. Mama say come.” Unfortunately for Brin, her message went completely unnoticed, so she reverted to less unobtrusive tactics. Charging at full speed, she plowed into her brother, thereby knocking him off Mom and winning half the battle in one swoop. Then she grabbed a handful of Mom’s shirt and began tugging on it. “Git up. Git up.”

Cole was too distracted in her performance to react to the assault before it occurred. Taken off guard momentarily when her son was forcibly removed from her mid-section, she recovered in the successive moment to prevent the retaliatory attack sure to follow. “Whoa, Nick. Hold up. No you don’t.” Sitting up just as Nick stood and set forth to extract his repayment, she grabbed him mid-stride lifting his legs off the ground as she, herself, ascended.

Nick strained within his captivity, emitting his rage in guttural growls. Wiggling his body, his glare focused on his sister.

Brin was oblivious to the animosity raining from above because she was preoccupied with getting Mom into the dining room to accomplished the remaining portion of her allotted mission. Though her oblivion was complete, her anonymity was to be short lived as her persistent tugging on Mom’s jeans would prove her eventual downfall.

“Nick, stop it. Calm down. Nick, now. Stop.” Cole said in a commanding parental tone that broached her son’s anger enough for his body to still, though his determination never wavered. Holding him tightly in two arms, she altered it to an one armed embrace, shifting his body to her right, away from his sister. Once he was settled, she looked down at the object of his obsession. “Brin, stop that.”

Hearing her name, Brin gained sufficient attention to repeat her message. Staring up she delivered it with a complementary smile. “Mama say come.”

“Okay. I’m coming.” Uttering the statement as a heavy sigh, Cole gave the obligatory nod to send her daughter running off to announce the upcoming arrival, but Brin didn’t move. She continued to stand where she was, presumably awaiting either further instructions, or further proof to Mom’s sincerity. Another sigh echoed as Cole followed her miniature double to wherever Mama had said to come to. Adjusting her stride as to not overtake her guide, Cole shook her head all the way into the dining room.

In the interim, Coy had nearly finished what she’d set out to do and entered the from the kitchen side of the open dining room carrying two glasses of milk when her spouse and two children came in from the other side. As she set the glasses down, her eyes fell on the two unhappy looking faces visible above the table, paying particular attention to Nick’s scowl. “What’s wrong with him?” Her concern moving her around the small circular table, she side stepped the yet unknown source of his baleful expression.

“Your little juggernaut messenger knocked him for a loop and now he’s mad.” Cole condensed with a roll of the eyes.

Coy blithely put her hands on her hips and found the little juggernaut standing next to her left leg with an unwitting smile. “Did you hit Nick?”

Suddenly crestfallen, Brin took Mama’s dower expression to mean that she’d done something wrong and was too innocent to guile her way out of retribution. Nodding, she lowered her head, leaning dejectedly into Coy’s leg.

“Brin, you know you’re not supposed to hit.” She reminded sternly. “You know the rules. You can play with each other, but nobody is allowed to hit and that includes knocking him down. Do you understand?”

Brin slumped even further. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Did you mean to hurt him?” Coy asked in a curious, but quieter voice.

A curly brunette head shook imperceptibly. “No, ma’am.”

“Okay.” Bringing her eyes up, Coy looked directly at her son. “Are you hurt?”

Nick shook his head, but remained silent.

“He’s fine.” Cole answered for him. “I think she startled him more than anything else. I know it did me and it’s not all her fault.” Feeling as sorry as Brin was, Mom spoke up in her defense. “We were playing so loud, I didn’t hear her come in and I didn’t have a chance to intervene before she rammed him.” Shifting Nick more to the front of her body, she rubbed his back with her free hand.

“That’s all well and good, but ramming people is not an acceptable way to get their attention.” Softening despite her words, Coy squatted down, then arose with Brin in her arms. Using an authoritative tone tempered with compassion, she raised her daughter’s chin with one finger. “Brin, you can’t do that anymore.”

“No, ma’am.” She said quietly, her face showing all the remorse she felt inside as she turned to make it known to her slighted brother. “I sorry, Nick. No more.”

Nick accepted the apology by laying his head on Mom’s shoulder.

With the matter suitably settled, Cole turned her eyes to where her nose had been since entering. “So, what’s for dinner anyway?” She asked with a light-hearted candor and surveyed the small array of bowls and plates cluttering the top of the small table. “Oooooo. My favorite dinner. Breakfast of Champions.”

Coy rolled her eyes and smiled, her demeanor changing to the lighter side as well. “I forgot to take anything out to thaw this morning, so it was either this, or four bowls of corn flakes. I thought you might prefer something hot, all things considered.” She said in apology for the selection of cuisine

“Works for me.” Cole admitted her appreciation openly. The chair she normally occupied directly in front of her, she pulled it out and adjusted her hold on Nick to accommodate the boy remaining in her lap as she sat. Knowing the answer to her upcoming question before it was asked, the animated search before hand was for her wife’s benefit. “Where’s the ketchup?” She asked looking to Coy with feigned consternation.

Catching Cole’s affected presentation out of the corner of her eye, Coy had Brin in her high chair and was getting ready to take her own chosen place when the not wholly unexpected question came. But rather than taking the bait offered so pretentiously and intended to incite a disgusted frenzy on her part, she simply smiled and sat down. “The same place it always is and where it’s going to stay. In the refrigerator. Could you please pass the hash browns?” Leaving Cole no time to interject or object, she batted blonde eyelashes at the abrupt snarl distorting her wife’s upper lip and extended her arm to take the bowl of shredded golden fried potatoes when it was grudgingly placed in her hand. “Thank you.”

An insincere ‘welcome’ leaked it’s way from Cole’s lips in a disgruntled grumble and she immediately began to mull over ways other ways to get a rise out of Coy.

Coy, keenly aware that the battle was underway, went about the same musings, but in reverse. A nightly ritual that had no real basis for existence, though a long history going back to when they first started dating, the one upmanship over their evening meal was something both women enjoyed immensely, although neither had ever been able to figure out why. Tantamount to the age old struggle of angler versus fish, the objective was to reel in the ultimate catch using only verbal irritation as bait and who was who depended on who cast their line first. Tonight Cole had gotten her ketchup bait out first, which was a tried and true lure, so she was the one now fishing around for an irksome statement Coy would bite at. Coy was the fish. Her job was not to get hooked by anything Cole said, no matter how irritating it might be and the rules were just as simple as the game. In-laws were off limits, because they couldn’t be helped and you couldn’t say anything hurtful.

Using the twins as bait was also against the rules, though they could be used as willing accomplices. You could ask them questions meant to agitate your spouse. You could engage them in casual covert conversation, albeit mostly one sided, meant to agitate your spouse. Or you could merely entertain them with meaningless rhetoric meant to agitate your spouse. And the twins were happy to cohort with their parents because even if they didn’t understand most, if any of the veiled remarks assailing them, their childlike comprehension did allow them to understand that they were important enough to be included. Rather than falling into the stereotypical realm of the seen and not heard, Nick and Brin eagerly added their giggles, wide assortment of expressions, perplexed interest and range of vocabulary two year old minds could assimilate to their parents te de te in the same spirit Cole and Coy practiced it. Harmless fun and nothing more, and the battle never lasted longer than the meal. Once the food was consumed and hunger sated, the game ended with all parties clearing the table without resentment, or an undercurrent of animosity no matter if the fish had been reeled in masterfully, or if the angler never got a nibble.

So, that’s how dinner was spent. Cole dangling tempting tidbits while feeding herself and Nick, and Coy eying them speculatively only to smile and change the subject as she ate and fed Brin, to her wife’s frustration. True professionals in their chosen sport, they were good sports too and by the time the dishes were cleaned, and put away, both women had moved on to one of their other nightly rituals. Trying to survive two energetic children with full tummies bent on avoiding being put down to bed until they collapsed from exhaustion. Fortunately for Coy and Cole, they were still fairly young women with limber bodies to contend the twins challenge and what they may have lacked in dexterity was fortified with intelligence, which they had used to cunningly devise strategic defenses over the past two years.

Essential to their well laid plan was teamwork. Sticking together was paramount as was keeping the duo in your sights at all times. Toddlers only toddle when they’re tired and all the other times they run around like tiny bolts of greased lightning making containment difficult, but the alternative could result in finding an escapee with a crayon up his or her nose, or worse. So foremost was finding ways to keep Brin and Nick together, whether they wanted to be in each other’s company or not. The easiest way to achieve this goal was by turning on the water in the tub and waiting for the sound to reach mini eardrums that never failed to momentarily halt all action. Then it was off to the races again as undersized clothes were doffed as quickly as possible so the swiftest could horde all the best squeaky toys for them self and in turn pout piteously when they were forced to hand over the spoils after a soliloquy on the benefits of sharing. Lesson grudgingly learned until tomorrow, the sorrow was soon forgotten when both got to play with their respective squeaky toys in bubbly bliss under the watchful gaze of Mom while Mama was off selecting jammies. When Mama reappeared the fun really began as Cole and Coy tried to apply the cleaning principle behind taking a bath onto the slippery naked bodies of their children without becoming drenched themselves. The couple’s success rate leaning heavily to the negative in this endeavor, they still managed on a nightly basis to bathe, dry and dress Nick and Brin in their pajamas, thus sounding the bell to begin the twins last stand against unconsciousness. Story time.

Just as the twins approached playing with riotous behavior, the reciprocal was true when Mama started a story. Coy spinning adventures before their wide eyes, Nick and Brin sat quietly on either side of Cole. Tensing and relaxing as the tale unfolded, their minds were transported to imaginary unknown worlds where danger lurked, evil loomed and the only the salvation lay in the hearts, and hands of the courageous few.

All for the amusement of her children and her wife, she used whatever props were available to bring the vividness of her words to life. Wielding fire poker swords, shielding herself with a cushion, making plans with invisible compatriots and vanquishing invisible foe, Coy played every part in her stories. One moment she was a gruff, burly pessimistic troll, hunched over from carrying his heavy battle axe with a voice low and gravely. And in the next moment her body straightened to heights beyond her own as the venerable fair haired elf whose sage like wit undermined the trolls down trodden influence on the weary band out to defend their land from wicked one-eyed dragon endangering their homes, and the lives of their loved ones in his treacherous fire breathing rampage.

On and on the tale was weaved in marveled detail until the villain died an agonizing death or until Nick and Brin’s bodies slumped in peaceful slumber, their dreams already picking up where Coy left off. Then they were transported once more. Gently lifted from the couch one by one, they were cradled in their parent’s arms and carried off to the beds they’d fought to avoid. Laid down as gently as they were lifted, they were tucked in with warm smiles, soft kisses and loving words to keep them until the sun rose tomorrow.


The end of the day for Nick and Brin was not the end of the day for Cole and Coy. For them the wake left behind was waiting to be addressed with a bathroom needing to be cleaned, toys needing to be put away and several other items to be taken care of before Mom and Mama could put themselves to bed. Going their separate ways , the two women roamed around the house quietly preforming their designated chores. Passing each other now and again, they sough neither’s company until their home was in a semblance of order meeting with their approval. When that was accomplished, usually after an hour or so, they met up again in the living room with whoever finished their chores first welcoming the late comer with a tired happy smile.

“How much longer before we don’t have to do this anymore?” Cole asked as she plopped down the couch beside her wife. Laying her head back on the cushion, she lolled it in Coy’s direction.

“Sixteen years and they’ll be off to college.” Coy replied with a sigh. “Then we get to pick up the tab on two college tuitions instead of toys.” Drifting to her left as she spoke, she rested her head on Cole’s shoulder.

A disheartened groaned echoed from Cole's lips as she lifted her right arm over her head, lowering it to encircle Coy’s shoulders, pulling her wife closer. The room lit only by the fire’s glow in front of them, she gave mussed blonde tresses a light kiss, then stretched out her long legs, placing her feet on the coffee table.

Coy curled into the embrace, bringing her legs up to lay across Cole’s lap. Staring into the flames, she felt their warmth easing some of the weariness and let her mind wander where it may.
Sitting quietly, stray thoughts mingling with memories of the day, her head rose when the wind broke the silence in a prolonged howl. Reminded of the storm witnessed through the window, she turned again to gaze out at glitters of white in total darkness. “I forgot to tell you earlier, but we’re snowed in.”

“Hmmm?” Her mind elsewhere, Cole blinked out of her stupor and caught enough fragments of the statement to follow Coy’s attention out the window. “What about the snow?” Yawning out the question, she saw flittering flakes reflect in the fire’s glow.

“We’re snowed in.” Shaking her head in bemusement, her worried scowl returned. “I think we’re going to be stuck here a couple of days, if not longer.”

“Snowed in? Pish.” Rebuking the notion, she crossed her feet at the ankles. “You’re a worry wart, Coy. You know my truck can get through anything. I’ll just have to get up early to shovel out in front of the garage before I go to work.”

“Cole, you’re not going to work tomorrow.” Coy corrected in a factual tone. “Go look for yourself.” Turning back to smile at her wife, she nodded toward the front of the house. “If you can see the garage, you’ve got x-ray vision, because I couldn’t see it this afternoon. You’ll be lucky to find the porch in the morning.”

Dared into action, Cole made a dramatic exit from the couch and strode the distance to the window in a few strides of her long legs, all the while thinking that Coy’s over active imagination was running amuck. Expecting to see a lot of snow, but not enough to disway her from her convictions, she was also ready to contradict Coy with words to the contrary when she flipped a switch by the door. Neither event occurred when the porch light came alive to reveal a world smothered in snow. Everywhere she looked there was nothing but white. She couldn’t see the garage through the storm and she could barely see the fence separating the house from the outer building in the deep layer of powdery fluff still falling in droves. “Good God.” Whispering her amazement, she turned, finding Coy close behind her. “I’ll never get out in this.”

“I told you so.” Her voice reflecting the smugness of her smile, Coy joined her wife as she turned to look out the glass again. “It started yesterday evening and hasn’t stopped.” Slipping her arm around Cole’s waist, she leaned into her spouse as the same apprehension she’d felt earlier in the day returned. “When was the last time the tanks were filled?”

“Jimmy topped them off Thursday when you took the twins to their doctor’s appointment.” Picking up on the reference to their heating oil supply, Cole made some quick calculations. “Figuring our daily usage with the size of the tanks we should be okay for about a week as long as we don’t try and turn this place into a sauna.” Putting her hands up, she braced on the window frame, her eyes staring intently out into the storm. “What about food?” She asked and shifted her eyes to watch her wife’s reflection in the glass.

“As long as you don’t go on a tuna fish binge, we should be okay.” Coy smiled because she knew Cole loathed tuna fish with a passion, and promptly ignored the glare cast her way.

Cole looked at her wife without a hint of humor in her eyes. “Is there anything else you’ve got that doesn’t require cooking?”

“Maybe.” Rocking forward on her toes, Coy gave Cole’s waist a squeeze.

“I see.” A nod betraying her true emotions, Cole smiled wistfully. “The only reason I ask, dear heart, is because we may not have electricity come tomorrow morning. The power lines are taking a beating out there and I’d hate to think that our children might be sporting gills by the time we dig ourselves out.”

Coy chuckled under her breath and glanced up at her wife. “I’m glad you cleared that up for me and I wouldn’t worry about Nick and Brin. They like tuna fish.” Enhancing her smile with a show of pearly whites. “You may starve, but we’ll survive to give you a proper burial.”

“Coy.” Cole growled through a snarl and pushed off the window frame to fold her arms across her chest facing the enigmatic blonde.

“I’m kidding, Cole.” Shaking her head, she chuckled again. “Yes, we have plenty of other things to eat besides tuna fish. If we loose power, I’ve got all sorts of canned goods in the basement and there are plenty of Pop Tarts to keep you on a sugar high for days.”

“Pop Tarts?” Cole unfolded her arms slowly. “Strawberry or blueberry?”

“Both and they’re frosted too.” Coy remarked with a noticeable shiver. Her sentiments over Pop Tarts rivaling Cole’s about tuna fish, she never understood the attraction they held. Unlike her mate, she preferred a well rounded diet and despite all her efforts to influence Cole likewise, the woman flatly refused to give up Pop Tarts. True, Cole had made headway over the years and she’d given up many other things in the way of unhealthy eating habits, but it never failed. As soon pen was put to paper for the weekly grocery list Cole would appear out of nowhere calling out for the purchase of her favorite sugary treat. However, there were advantages to giving in to Cole’s whim, such as now, when the mention of Coy’s arch nemesis inspired affectionate gratitude.

Glancing down, she watched two arms snake around her waist with a smile. Yes, she thought, there are definitely advantages to buying Pop Tarts. Raising her eyes to meet ones closer than they had been a moment ago, her lips were brushed lightly by a sultry smile.

“I like frosted.” Cole murmured as she pressed their lips together.

Electricity sparking across her skin Coy melted into the intoxicating kiss. Aware of Cole alone, her thoughts became vacant peripherals. Snow forgotten. Storm forgotten. Pop Tarts forgotten. Breathing nearly forgotten, she was held enraptured against her wife’s body. Arms as remote an awareness as the world in general, they coiled around Cole of their own volition, without disturbing their owner with a request to do so and fingers coursed their way over plaid flannel to tangle in dark wavy hair.

Though Cole’s reasons for the kiss were pre-functional, the validation was complete as she fell into the alluring web of preoccupation urged on by an eager partner.

Unnoticed by a sole transfixed shadow, the outside world swirled in tumultuous icy disarray unseen beyond the porch light’s glow. Bearing it’s load ever downward, the wind whistled and howled with it’s flurried burden passing through the light in erratic sheets until it was propelled into darkness by the flick of a wrist. Against the snowy backdrop a shadow danced in flickering waves until that too vanished, leaving a dim amber incandescence as the storms lone illumination.

A brunette head peeked inside a small bedroom using the hall light to spy on Brin beneath Tigger linens while a blonde one spied across the hall on Nick under his X-Men comforter. Content that the twins were sleeping like the babies they were, Cole and Coy slowly closed their respective doors leaving each slightly ajar. A confirmation that both twins were asleep came as a silent nod and a smile from each parent when they faced. Another turn and they departed the doors as quietly as they’d approached.

Cole walked backwards down the narrow passage, her reflection coming and going in varying sized framed glass of family photos lining both walls as she led Coy in the direction of their bedroom by the hand. Placing one bare foot behind the other, her smile changed from the pleasure of knowing her children were comfortably tucked in for the night, to one of anticipation of a different sort of pleasure.

Named after a demure red-headed great aunt of considerably larger girth and height who’d died before she was born, Coy bore no more resemblance to her predecessor than she did a shy coquette, as her name suggested. Bold in virtually everything she did, shyness was not part of her character and playing hard to get was the farthest thing from her mind as she was towed toward a darkened bedroom by a tall gorgeous brunette with lustful desires evident in deepening blue eyes. To the contrary, the blonde had every intention of fulfilling her wife’s desires and more than a few of her own heated imaginings that were becoming more so the closer they came to gaining comparative privacy.

Pausing at the door long enough to close it behind them, Coy sent the room into complete darkness quietly shutting out the hall light, then felt around on the wall for the switch that would give power to two identical table lamps stationed on nightstands beside their bed. When the switch was flipped, the room became dimly lit from Cole’s side of the bed, while Coy’s lamp remained dark. With her wife now lit from behind, Coy remained at arms length, her head tilting to one side as she was reminded of why she’d found the woman so compelling in the first place. Cole’s irrepressible magnetism aside, if ‘every young man’s dream’ had been one word in the dictionary, her picture would have accompanied the definition.

Long and deceptively lean, her wife was stronger than she appeared with time hardened muscles developed from an avid sports fanaticism vaguely defined beneath flawless skin. Too tall for most men to be able to sustain their egos in her presence for very long, Cole’s six feet, two inch height could intimidate all but the most stall worth of hearts of either sex, just as her stunning beauty could send chiropractic appointments into the hundreds when necks strained to catch a glimpse as she strolled by. Agile rather than awkward, Cole excelled in the sports she loved, which amounted to every outdoor activity other than mountain climbing. That she left to Coy and stayed on the ground, giving the excuse that should Coy fall, she would be there to catch her. And Coy had no doubt that Cole would be there with arms outstretched, head tilted upward, her dark hair falling down her back as her baby blues searched the sky beneath lush dark lashes set in a face so exquisite, it was worth risking certain death just to have that face be the last thing she would ever see.

Needless to say, Coy’s closeness to the source didn’t make her immune to her wife’s natural charms even after being together for so long, though she’d never felt the intimidation others suffered. If anything, the attraction had become stronger in time and for Coy, Cole was an addiction she had no desire to be cured of. Thinking herself lucky for having snared the towering classic beauty, which was a standing point of conjecture between them, Coy stepped forward to take an appreciative inventory by revealing Cole’s assets, starting with the blue and green plaid flannel shirt she was wearing, but not for much longer.

When the snaps holding her shirt closed were ripped apart to expose her front down to the waist, Cole realized that her lead down the path to passion had been reduced to nil, but the loss was quickly lessened as warm lips began kissing her neck. The temperature inside the room not withstanding, the heat generated from within by Coy’s touch was sufficient to counter any chill she might have felt as her shirt was slipped off her shoulders. Wearing no bra underneath the fabric, her bare chest heaved with labored breaths as her wife’s hands worked the buttons of her jeans. Cole bowed her head to watch her pants being slid down her legs, along with her underwear and stepped out of them to wait for whatever Coy had in mind, though there was little doubt in her own as to what that would be.

Barriers removed, Coy stood slowly and took in the lightly tanned form of her wife with unmasked carnality. The very sight making her breathing as husky as Cole’s, she pulled off her clothes unaided, then pressed their naked bodies together to gently urge her wife backwards toward the bed. There was no resistance to her urging and she gazed upward for the few paces forward it took to reach their destination. Lowering her eyes as Cole sat down on the foot of the bed, she again urged her wife backwards using a hand placed on a strong shoulder and crawled up beside her wife as she scooted back and laid down. Laying on her right side, Coy’s eyes moved over Cole with a hunger liken to a starving person eying a feast set before them, but she staved off her immediate wants to do up close what her spouse had done from afar. Admire and enjoy the bounty of riches that was Cole and rested her left hand on a flat stomach to begin stroking the smoothness as a soft moan greeted her touch.

Laid out as a veritable sacrifice for Coy’s pleasure, Cole opened her mouth to hang agape and useless with the first contact of a strong hand gliding delicately across her skin that made it tingle from head to toe. Eyes staring at the ceiling, they closed as she arched slightly into the feel and she held a hushed gasp as Coy continued to explore familiar territory.

Mesmerized by the beauty stretched out beside her as much as she had been by the falling snow, Coy claimed heated flesh in deliberate gradual degrees as her hand moved slowly over every inch. From long sinewy muscled legs that carried Cole so gracefully and spread so invitingly, to full hips and slender waist she studied each with sensual appreciation and preceded each gentle caress with a lingering kiss. Focused on every curve, Coy raised her head as she grazed her finger tips past her starting point in an upward back handed sweep to the peak of an ample breast where she circled the softness around a taut nipple.

Everywhere Coy touched her, Cole’s skin was set aflame. Smoldering brands left in the wake, fire spread up from between her legs as short pants of breath intermingled with quivering moans reflected the exertion of remaining still and the growing need to be taken completely. Her eyes still closed, they were squeezed tighter, then shot open when Coy’s mouth covered her breast and sucked hard on the sensitive flesh. “Oh, God.” The barely audible gasp spoken between held breaths, Cole’s hands balled into fists clutching the down comforter covering the bed as she arched her back. Mouth agape once more, it closed enough for her bottom lip slip between her teeth as her body began to undulate of it’s own accord while Coy continued her ravaging.

Coy’s head rose and fell as she fed her own building fire with succulent sweetness. Devouring all she could take in, hot breath flared from her nostrils in shortening cadence to the increased pounding of her heart. Upper body curled half covering Cole’s, the heat radiating from below bored through her senses in searing intensity, ebbing her desire for delayed satisfaction until her inventory was complete. Consumed by her consumption, her awareness of how far she was pushed her mate’s tolerance was heightened when a hand sought out her’s and guiding it downward toward a patch of dark curls. Needing no more compulsion to act, Coy shifted her hips, sliding her left leg over Cole to straddle a rising thigh. Uncurling her body, she straightened her back and relocated her hungry lips to one’s just as ravenous while her fingers slipped into wet folds. Jolting forward when Cole’s thigh pushed into her center, Coy began groaning into the passionate kiss to the rhythm of her wetness grinding in long strokes.

Releasing the comforter, Cole clenched her fingers into Coy’s muscled buttock holding it against her thigh with one hand while that had guided Coy’s became lost amidst blonde hair. Her senses assaulted from every quarter, her hips rolled upward to press her clit into Coy’s massaging as her head lifted off the bed to crush their lips together. Very near the edge already, Cole stifled a throaty moan as Coy plunged inside her and began pumping her hand in steady rapid thrusts. Breaking away, her head slammed into the bed as her hips jerked to match the tempo. Back strained into a high arch, her words were quiet whimpers. “Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Coy. Coy. God.”

Their bodies pushing against one another, a thin layer of sweat lubricated their conjoined oscillations. Coy’s response to her name a muttered whisper was muffled as her head rocked into Cole’s shoulder and was followed with a series of anguished moans to correspond with her nearing climax. Poised at the brink, her body assumed a frenzied fervor. Driven and being driven by a raging inferno tearing up from her core, her hand pounded her own need deep into Cole as her hips bucked in chaotic spasms. “Cole. Cole. Cole!”

The sound penetrating her blurred awareness, Cole’s arms wrapped around her wife just as they both were swept over the precipice. A grimace of pure sexual pleasure marring her face, her ability to control her body was lost as Coy continued to move inside her, prolonging the orgasm as she wracked in convulsive waves of uncontainable rapture.

Both bodies engulfed in palpable flames of nirvana, the wind camouflaged guttural moans and stuttered sighs as lungs filled and emptied in random strained succession. Their descent as mutual as their rise, it came slowly with bodies relaxing in gradual progression until the last of the passion was spent with Coy collapsing the instant Cole’s arms fell to her sides. Still breathing with effort, they lay unmoving for a time as senses were collected from scattered reaches and they rallied enough strength to stoke the embers of unquenchable passion, and begin another ascent.


At 5:45 am Cole’s eyes opened as they did every Monday through Friday at that time, but rather than being roused from unconsciousness by the incessantly annoying chirping of her alarm clock, the noise that had awakened her was further away than the nightstand. And after a superficial search of the immediate area to her left, she determined that Coy must be the culprit, because the blonde headed body was missing from their bed. “She forgot. I know she forgot.” Mumbling a reference to the fact that she wasn’t going to work today, Cole surmised her wife had forgotten this and was now up fixing a breakfast for her. A moan of frustration escaping as she sat up, she rubbed her eyes before swinging her legs over the side of the bed. As soon as her bare feet hit the cold floor, she regretted having to get up, but did so anyway, or else face the wrath of a woman who’d gone through the pains of fixing a meal only to discover it wouldn’t be wanted for several more hours. Standing slowly, Cole stretched then slumped. Feet shuffling across the floor, they walked past the end of the bed, where she grabbed her robe off the post and donned it in route. “I’m going to start putting sticky notes on her forehead,” she grumbled past the twins’ doors, “with an industrial staple gun.” Added for good measure.

Her dour mood lasted as long as it took to enter the kitchen and spy the blonde in question wearing nothing under her robe bent over facing the opposite direction. The previous nights revels came back to Cole in a flash changing her perspective dramatically and dispelled her frown with a wicked smile. “I don’t know what is on the menu, but I know what I want for breakfast.” She said, slanting slowly to the right and caught a quick gander at Coy’s crotch before it disappeared when her wife stood up.

If Coy needed any clues as to what Cole was referring to, the need evaporated when she turned around to find her wife bent sideways staring below waist level. With a smile as wicked as Cole’s on her lips, Coy untied her robe and shrugged it off her shoulders, then let it drop to the floor. Then she laughed when Cole dropped to the floor. “I’m glad to see I haven’t lost my touch.” Bending down, she picked up her robe and had it back on before Cole regained her shattered composure. “You’re getting oatmeal, by the way.” Said with a seethingly smug inflection, Coy realized the prospect that she may have erred in her ways when her wife, halfway to her feet, begged to differ with an ominous leer.

“No no no no, short, sweet and tasty.” Cole shook her head, dusting off her robe with her wicked smile returning. “There is no way you are going to stand there and flash that body, and then tell me I’m having oatmeal for breakfast. I know you know me better than that, Coy Nicholle McCall.”

Coy’s eyes grew unnaturally round at hearing her full name spoken that way and she began hedging her way out of the kitchen with her hands held up in a defensive posture. “Now, Cole. Let’s just think about this for a second.” Using a calm voice, she tried to soothe the savage beast looking at her with a lustful spark lighting up blue eyes. “There is no need for you to get testy. I was joking about the oatmeal. You can have Pop Tarts.”

“Oh, it’s far too late for Pop Tarts now. You had your chance.” Chuckling low, Cole stepped menacingly in her wife’s retreating direction. “Now you’re mine. Come here, Coy.”

“Cole. Now . . . now Cole. Let’s be reasonable about this.” Barely at arms length, Coy began backing up faster to stay out Cole’s lecherous reach. “We’ve got two very impressionable children in the house who could appear at any moment and don’t you have to get ready for work?”

“They won’t be up for hours and we’re snowed in, remember? I’ve got plenty of time to feed my face.” Glancing down at the area below Coy’s waist, Cole licked her lips with the scarcely veiled innuendo. “Ummmm, I can just taste it now.”

“Oh, shoot. I forgot. ” In more trouble than she originally suspected, Coy took off like a shot around the living room, putting the couch between herself and Cole, who followed in an irritatingly casual confident stride.

“Where ya going, Coy?” Cole asked with feigned innocence. “Why don’t you come over here?” Making a lunge, she grabbed a handful of air and dashed around the couch. “Come here, Coy.”

“Cole! No!” Running to the other end of the couch, Coy stopped when Cole did and eyed her hunter warily. “You stay away from me, Cole Brin McCall.”

“Aw, what’s the matter? Has the insatiable Coy lost her appetite after nearly killing me last night? I just want to repay the favor.” Another lunge. Another missed attempt at capture and around the couch they went again. “I don’t know why you’re running. There’s no place to go, Coy. So why don’t you just come over here and sit on my face?”

“Cole!” Coy shrieked as quietly as possible and glanced down the hall. “Are you out of your mind. Watch your mouth. The twins could hear you.”

“Well if you’d come over here,” patting the cushion invitingly, “I could put my mouth to much better use.”

Focusing back on her wife, Coy’s eyes went wide again when Cole began rubbing her breast under her robe. “Cole.” Drawing out the name, she shook her head and a warning finger. “That is not going to work, so stop it.”

“Stop what?” Feigning innocence again, Cole continued to knead her own breast and started rotating her hips from side to side.

“Cole, I mean it. Stop that.” Coy said over a moan from the other end of the couch. “You are not going to seduce me. You’re wasting your time, do you hear me?”

This time Cole didn’t answer verbally. Instead she used her long arm to stroke the inside of her thigh, lifting her robe to expose dark curls as her hips went around. “Is it hot in here?” She asked in a husky voice and laid her head back.

“No.” Coy lied, feeling a slight flush prickle her skin and shook her head to clear away the spell being so expertly cast. Speaking as much to herself as Cole, she denied the effect the display was having on her resolve. “No no no. This is not going to work. I am not falling for this.”

Cole kept up her appearance of self pleasuring, while her moans enhanced the performance. Bottom lip between her teeth, she put more thrust into her hips movements. “Yesssss.”

“Yes . . . I mean no. No!” Slapping her hands over her eyes, Coy turned her head to peer between her fingers for another check to make sure the twins weren’t up and about, then turned back and promptly shut her eyes when the vision of Cole so obviously enjoying herself nearly cracked her thinning veneer of self control. Now safely blinded to the temptation, the sounds emanating from the other side of the room wreaked as much havoc as the view had as the moans intensified in desperate timbre.

Having heard nothing for a time, Cole stole a covert peek and smiled. Working the moans to the hilt, she removed her hands from under her robe and untied it, letting it slip off her shoulders. Then, very slowly, she crept around the couch with measured stealth. Adjusting the volume of her voice, she simulated distance and approached her quarry with caution. Step by step, she moved closer until Coy was well within range. Plotting her next move carefully, Cole was torn between throwing her wife over her shoulder and carrying her off to bed, or simply taking advantage of the couch so close at hand. A few logistics worked out quickly, she took action. “Gotcha!”

Falling miserably for the deception, Coy was on her back with Cole’s naked body laying on top and any protest smothered in a crushing kiss, before she realized she was no longer vertical. Ambushed and pinned, her resistance to the attack was minimal, lacking both the strength and desire to dislodge her wife. A perfect ploy executed masterfully, Coy succumbed to the knowledge that she could be so easily manipulated and Cole’s yearning for retribution with merely a minor annoyance factor weighing against the overwhelming loss of sane judgment she suffered when her wife proved her skills in the art of sexual stimulation.


The power having gone off somewhere between her ravaging Coy on the couch and her ravaging Coy in the bedroom, Cole stood in a dark kitchen eating a Pop Tart and humming to herself in satisfied success when two sleepy faces appeared from around the corner. “Hi.” She said happily and waved.

Drawn there by the humming, Brin and Nick padded their way to where Mom was standing. Nick being more awake than his sister tugged on the bottom of the robe without looking up to see if he had her attention. “Go potty.” Expecting to be followed, he held on to the hem when he walked away.

Grabbing the open box of Pop Tarts off the counter, Cole swooped Brin up in her arms and followed dutifully behind.

Her head laying on Mom’s shoulder, Brin looked around in confusion. “Mama.”

“Mama’s asleep, sweety.” Cole whispered. “She’s a little tired, but you can come lay down in the bed with us after you go potty. Would you like that?”

Brin nodded against Mom’s neck. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Okay, then. Mother nature, then Mama.” Hugging her daughter tightly, she walked behind Nick, taking one stride to his three to the bathroom. Once she’d helped the twins take care of their business, she got their pajamas back on and walked them into the bedroom where Coy lay somewhere beneath the covers stretched out on her stomach. The Pop Tarts went on the nightstand, then Nick was lifted up onto the bed after Brin and Cole held the covers up so they could crawl underneath, before she got in. With little room left for herself, she rolled onto her side, facing the twins and Coy, who managed to sleep though the invasion until Nick crawled on top of her to sprawl out. A soft chuckled greeting Coy’s confused expression when she lifted her head, Cole smiled. “Wonder where he gets that from?”

Coy glanced over her shoulder then dropped her head back on the pillow and closed her eyes. “You. You spread out. I cuddle.” Stating the facts as she saw them.

“Hmmmm.” Not entirely convinced, Cole let the matter go and scooted further to the center of the bed. Laying her arm over Brin, who was content to stay snuggled in between her parents, she tapped Coy’s shoulder. “In case you’re interested. The phone lines are down too, but I got a hold of Jeff with the cell phone and told him to tell Dad we’re snowed in until the storm blows over. He said he’d send up smoke signals.” Pulling the covers up over her shoulders, she called her brother an twitter brained brat if French, so the twins wouldn’t understand.

A translator for an international marketing firm before she got pregnant and chose to become a house wife, Coy was fluent in French, Spanish, Italian, German, Russian and a little rusty with her Japanese, Chinese and Korean because she didn’t get to practice much, but she really didn’t need to be multi-lingual to pick up on Cole’s irritation. Laughing softly, she felt around for Cole’s arm and patted it in commiseration. “I guess we should have gotten Dad a cell phone for Christmas instead of that kiln.”

“He got what he asked for, so let him suffer. If he wants to live in the dark ages, that’s his problem. I’m not going to drag him into this century kicking and screaming.” Still speaking in French, Cole slapped her pillow, taking her frustrations out on defenseless feather stuffing. “Stubborn old coot. Knowing him, he probably can read smoke signals. Maybe that’s why the computer caught on fire. He was probably trying to send email the old fashioned way.”

Coy really wanted to stop the rantings before they got out of control and go back to sleep in peace, but doing either was difficult because she could not stop laughing.

The running feud between father and daughter was a worn out tale of catastrophic proportions to hear it told by either party and never ceased to entertain the listener, especially when the sides were told in conjunction while the opposing party was there to defend their sentiments. That is when it really got side splitting, fall on the floor funny. To see Cole, party of the first part, trying to explain the benefits of progressive change to her Dad, party of the second part, who felt that changing something for the sake of change was idiotic because there was no logical reason to fix something that wasn’t broken. To make matters worse, Cole’s attempts to make changes without her father’s consent often lead to disaster. Such as the computer she purchased to modernize the inventory and accounting systems going up in flames. It was a prime example of why in-laws where not allowed as fodder in their verbal fishing tournament over dinner. One remark about Dad and Cole would go off the deep end, thus ending the game before it had truly begun. And to be fair, Coy wasn’t much better where her family was concerned. Her relationship with her sister was an ongoing struggle of differing points of view as stale as Cole’s and Dad’s, but their confrontations revolved around Coy’s choices in life.

To her sister, Coy’s decision to stay home and raise her family versus putting Nick and Brin in day care so she could continue her climb up the corporate ladder, which is what her sister chose to do with her children, was throwing away a well established career when it didn’t need to be. Whereas Coy, who had no real qualms about day care and accepted her sister’s choice, defended her own as gaining more than she had given up with the evidence being her own happiness and that of her family’s. Cole’s support in the matter was complete, once she’d been convinced Coy had thoroughly considered all her options, so there was little her sister could do but go on about a lost opportunity Coy didn’t regret giving up, just as Cole went on about her father’s refusal to give up rotary dial telephones, which is where she had gotten to in her ranting by the time Coy stopped laughing long enough to interrupt.

“Cole.” Coy said and grabbed the hand waving around over her head. “Cole.”

“ . . . and when he dies, those suckers are going in the casket with him.” Well into her tirade, Cole came to a stuttered halt when her hand did. “What?”

“You’re shouting and you’re shaking the bed. Go to sleep or go outside.” Issuing her ultimatum with a smile, she kissed Cole’s hand, then released it. Choosing the former for herself, she closed her eyes and relaxed.

Cole saw no use in continuing without an attentive audience that she evidently lacked both inside the house and out. With little else to do but go to sleep, she rolled on her back, stretching her arms and legs, and welcomed Brin when the little girl crawled up to cuddle into her arms. Scooting closer to Coy, she found her wife’s hand beneath the covers and laced their fingers, then closed her eyes.


The foursome slept several more hours until the temperature in the house became unbearably cold because Cole had failed to switch the ventilation system for the furnace over to the back up battery pack when she’d gotten up earlier. Very close to being human popcicles, three stayed in bed under the covers shivering and one bundled up as Quinn the Eskimo for a trek into the basement. Finding the basement filled with smoke, due to the lack of proper circulation, Cole opened a ground level window, only to find it completely blocked with snow. Working with only a flashlight and unable to hook up the batteries until the smoke could be cleared away, she propped open the door to the basement and waved as much of the smoke into the house as possible. Then she removed the battery from the smoke detector in the kitchen and calmed the trio standing huddled in the hallway ready to make their escape, sending them off to open some windows that were not blocked by snow. While they were doing this, she returned to the basement and found it sufficiently cleared to see to switch the power over. With air from the furnace now being circulated correctly, the smoke was sucked in the intake, clearing the basement and filling the rest of the house. Another remedy needed quickly, she closed the exhaust vent in their bedroom and shuttled the family back inside to let the wind whipping through the open windows, and the furnace fans eventually pump the smoke outside, even though the heat everyone was wanting would go out with it. Then Quinn joined her family and took up smoke patrol, checking on its recession every five minutes or until someone requested an update, which ever came last. And eventually most of the smoke did clear from the rest of the house before Coy, Brin and Nick suffered frostbite. But before allowing them out of the bedroom, Cole made a full house check, closing windows as she went, then descended into the basement again to make a final check there. Once she was satisfied that the furnace was not going to blow up and that the house was not going to catch on fire, she released the trio to don appropriate clothing to wait for the temperature to rise to a comfortable level. Several more paranoia induced checks later, the house was again suitable for carbon based life forms to survive without wearing every piece of clothing they owned and everyone settled down to enjoy the novelty of primitive living for hopefully longer than it took to get the electricity back on, or before they ran out of Pop Tarts.

Coy lay on the couch watching and listening to Brin and Nick inside a make shift tend she and Cole had erected in the living room out of chairs and a blanket. With no fire in the fireplace, animal shaped projections danced across the blanket from two flashlights the twins were playing with, while their giggles floated in the air. An amused smile on her lips, she turned her focus toward the window where Cole was standing watching the snow fall as she had done the previous day. Barely able to see her wife’s face reflected in the gray outside, Cole’s growing restlessness showed in the way her hands patted out a nervous rhythm from inside the pockets of the jeans they were shoved into and Coy knew she needed to do something to distract her wife before she started fidgeting.

Taking the simple direct approach, Coy called out in a whisper. “Cole.”

Engrossed in her own thoughts, it took several calls of her name to get Cole to respond. When she did come out of herself, she turned around and accepted Coy’s invitation to join her on the couch.

“Any change?” Coy asked as she turned on her side, sliding to the back of the couch to make room for Cole to lay down in front of her.

“I think it’s slacking up. Maybe by tomorrow I can start shoveling towards the garage.” Cole said, laying her head on the pillow she had brought out of their bedroom earlier, because it didn’t smell like smoke. Once she stretched out, she relaxed into the only place she ever truly relaxed. Coy’s arms. Like an elixir, the arms of the woman she loved was a safe haven from the world’s ails, if only temporarily and Cole felt her anxiety slipping away as Coy snuggled against her back.

Coy propped up on her elbow, resting her head in her hand as she looked over her wife at the tent. “Or maybe by tomorrow you can figure out how recharge AA batteries without electricity.”

“Yea, it beats having to do shadow puppets with a candle.” Watching the dancing lights, her anxiety was already forgotten and Cole’s shoulders jostled with her chuckle. “Although you are very good with your hands. You could probably keep them entertained for hours, like you do me . . . ow.” Rubbing her pinched behind, she glanced over her shoulder at the pincher. “That’s not what I hand in mind for you to do with your hands.”

“Yes, I know what your one track mind had on it and you can drag it right out of the gutter because this couch has seen its last action for awhile.” Coy smirked down at Cole’s scowl.

“Meanie.” Sticking out her tongue, Cole glanced back at the tent. “Do you think they will fall asleep on their own?” She asked as a whisper.

Finding the notion absurd, Coy answered sarcastically. “Sure they will. The sugar in the Pop Tarts you gave them for breakfast should where off sometime around midnight.”

“They had half of one apiece.” Cole said in her own defense. “And I couldn’t very well sit there and eat one in front of them without sharing.”

“You wouldn’t have been eating in front of them if you hadn’t brought the box into the bedroom.” Coy countered.

“I was hungry.” She shot back over her shoulder. “And how come the box was empty when I got back from the basement? Who ate the rest of my Pop Tarts?”

Caught in a quandary, Coy looked away.

Cole started to turn over as her mouth dropped open in astonishment. “You ate my Pop Tarts?”

The need for defense now her’s, Coy cleared her throat. “Yes, but desperate circumstances call for desperate measures.”

In total disbelief, Cole faced her wife. “You little hypocrite.”

“Hardly.” Coy rebuked with an up turn of her nose. “I was hungry. They were there. They tasted horrible. End of story.”

“Oh, please. If they tasted so bad, why did you eat four of them? Hmmmmmm?” She asked very smugly. “I would have thought that after shoving twigs and berries down your gullet all in the name of good nutrition for so many years, you would have eaten the box before the contents. It being a good source of fiber and all.”

Coy’s eyes narrowed to thin slits and her lips crunched up into a terse sneer. “What part of desperate did you not understand?” She said very slowly. “If there had been mildew on the window sills, I would have gladly licked that up with my bare tongue instead. I’m sure it would have tasted better and been better for me than those diabetic death threats.”

“If you had only eaten one and I emphasize the if part, I may believe you.” Cole came back and shook a finger in Coy’s face. “However, eating four constitutes a suggestion of enjoyment on your part and admit it, Coy. You liked my Pop Tarts, didn’t you?”

“I am appalled at that accusation. If I hadn’t been in fear for my life shortly afterwards, I would have shoved my finger down my throat to get rid of the vile atrocities.” Waggling her finger in Cole’s face, she smiled. “And, and, and I may yet. If I don’t go into some kind of exponential caloric intake coma.” Spitting out the last, Coy was about to crawl over her wife when Cole sat up, blocking her way.

“Not so fast. You haven’t answered my question, yet.” Holding Coy back with one hand, Cole eyed her suspiciously.

“I most certainly did.” Slapping the hand off her chest.

“You most certainly did not.” Cole shook her head. “You said you were appalled by the accusation, not that you denied it.”

“A technicality. Now move, I’m feeling suddenly nauseous.” Coy announced and tried to wrestle her way out of the jam she was in.

“No.” Cole said tritely and held her wife back with her greater size. “Not until I get an honest answer.”

“You got your answer and if you don’t get out of my way, you’ll get to see your precious Pop Tarts all over again.” Wrists held in Cole’s grasp, she struggled to get to freedom.

“Hurl to your hearts content, my dear. It won’t be the first time I’ve been spit up on.” Cole chuckled and wrapped her long legs around Coy’s. “Now confess. You like Pop Tarts, don’t you?”

Growling to conceal the truth, Coy struggled harder rather than lie. “Let go of me.”

“How about you two?” Calling for eye witnesses, Cole spoke over her shoulder. “Hey, Nick and Brin. Did Mama like the Pop Tarts?”

Nick and Brin popped their heads out of the tent and walked over to the couch. Unfazed by seeing their parents in a physical struggle, they giggled at the spectacle.

Letting go of Coy’s wrists, Cole wrapped her arms quickly around her shoulders and rolled to get a better view of the twins. “Come on. Did Mama go ‘mmmmmm’ when she ate breakfast in bed today?”

“That is a leading question.” Coy objected.

“And I think the lady doth protest to much.” Cole quoted and did a quick flip to put Coy on the bottom. “Now, then. That’s better.” Securely on top, she turned to the twins. “What did Mama say when she ate breakfast in bed this morning?”

“Don’t you two say a word.” Trying hard not to make her words sound threatening, Coy smiled after she said them.

Following Mama’s instruction, Brin and Nick remained silent and nodded, and their only response was to smile back and rub their tummies.

“Inconclusive! They could be talking about what they did!” Quick to discount the testimony.

“Fine. I’ll rephrase the question.” Cole smiled congenially. “Show me what Mama looked like when she ate breakfast this morning.”

Brin and Nick exchanged a look, then they went back inside the tent.

Confused, Cole and Coy exchanged a look.

“What are they doing?” Coy asked and tried to peer into the tent.

“I don’t know.” Cole shrugged as she tried to do the same thing. “What’s that noise?”

To answer her question, the twins came out of the tent with the box. Taking their place on the witness stand, the pair reached in the box and began shoving handfuls of cereal in their mouths, to Mama’s chagrin.

Eyes wide at first, Coy shut them as Cole began to laugh. “Tattle tells.”

“Thank you. You can go back and play now. You have been very helpful.” Cole got out in between chortles.

Happy to be of service, Nick and Brin went back inside the tent and began warding off the tent monster again.

Cole released her captive and nearly fell off the couch from laughing so hard.

Discovered and disgruntled, Coy helped her wife’s departure with a hearty shove. “Oh, just get off me you rat. It is not that funny. So I liked the Pop Tarts, is that a crime?”

Landing with a thump, Cole shook her head. “A character flaw, maybe. But it is not a crime. Ahhhhh. The mighty Coy has tasted of the forbidden frosted fruit filled toaster pastries. I’ll alert the media.”

A toss up to whether she was put out with herself for liking the Pop Tarts or with being caught liking them, Coy stepped on Cole’s stomach as she got up. “If we weren’t in mixed company, I’d tell you what you could do with your frosted fruit filled toaster pastries.”

Cole grabbed her leg before she got away and held on as Coy tried to get it back. “And here I thought you bought blueberry flavored tooth paste.”

“Stop gloating and get off me.” Jerking her leg, Coy was held fast. Literally dragging Cole across the floor, she was making progress until the twins added their weight to the load.

Scrambling out of the tent, the twins jumped on Mom’s back for a ride.

“Hi ho!” Nick shouted and waved his arm around like a bronco buster. “Gitty up, Mom!”

Brin hung onto Nick.

With the command, Cole let go of Coy’s leg and raised onto all fours, then crawled after her wife as she walked away, making horse noises.

It took a few minutes of being followed around with animal sounds and laughter before Coy’s mood changed, and she took her remaining frustrations out on her wife by pummeling Cole with a pillow, which soon turned into a four-way pillow fight.


Three days after the snow had begun to fall, it stopped. It took another two days for anyone in the McCall household to notice, because that is when the electricity came back on and a full week passed before Cole finally made it to the garage, though that was merely to retrieve two sleds. And that is how Cole, Coy, Nick and Brin spent their captivity. Enjoying each other’s company and making memories that would last a lifetime.


The End.

Thanks for reading.




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