Much like hospitals, airports at night are liminal spaces, spaces where reality is just a little bit thin. When one thinks of reality being thin, we think of snarling, eldritch monstrosities on the other side, trying to make their way through and nipping at our ankles. We think of places where we can reach the nth dimension and pull out a hypercube in which to store our infinitely recursive fresh socks. 

But the thing on the other side of the walls of reality within a liminal space is, of course, yourself. It is a space that is transitory, where one moves through alone, and the only thing that feels really real is oneself. These are things that will be familiar to those who have worked a night shift and walked home at dawn, right before the world wakes up, the city quiet and asleep and you, the only one in it. It is familiar to people who have spent a night in the hospital, when the lights are off and there’s a distant machine going ‘beep’. 

To people who traverse these spaces, in fact, the only thing in it that feels real is themselves. Like walking through a washed-out Polaroid, or a flashback in an eighties music video, the world is a little out of focus, and it puts you in focus, your tired brain taking stock, taking note, and taking its sweet time to come up with anything useful to say. 

This feeling was familiar to Daniel and Lisa, who were moving across the off-white floors of the airport that were tiled several decades ago by someone with more flooring material than taste. The airport was mostly empty, because incoming traffic from Iceland was light at the best of times, and ‘the middle of the night’ wasn’t exactly rush hour. Lisa leaned against Daniel as they waited by a conveyor belt for their luggage, the gentle hum the only sound in the room. 

They walked to the front entrance, little wheels on the linoleum floors like background music playing them out. All of it contributed to the distinct sense of place that felt like no place at all. Following signs to an exit leading to more signs and more exits, because it’s not quite a liminal space if it isn’t a little bit possible to get a little lost in infinite hallways that are just a little different each time, maybe with a poster or two that advertise a place that didn’t even really exist half a century ago when they were drafted. Or maybe just a picture of some trees, because trees are relaxing. 

And then they stood outside, both of them tired, practically swaying on their feet, and happy to be back. They knew the way home and, hand in hand, they began to walk down the street as, in the distance, the sun began to come up. 

As out-of-focus as the city had been, in the dim light of almost-dawn, so it now slipped into reality again. Daniel couldn’t tell where one state of existence ended and another began. As they walked down the street, first a few, then more cars passed them by. The sun slowly crept down the side of buildings and finally shone a light in his eyes. He stopped for a moment, basking a little in the warmth on his skin, and Lisa stopped next to him, her own eyes closed. 

The moment didn’t last forever, and nothing particularly important happened in it, but it was a moment they had shared and, Daniel realized, he wanted to share a lifetime of them with her. He turned to her and kissed her, before she could open her eyes, and she melted into it, her soft lips against his, glorious in the light of the morning. 

Then they continued walking, both with a tired smile on their faces, occasionally looking over at each other and then bashfully away like two teenagers on their first date, until they found their building and realized that it was sort of difficult to romantically hold hands on their way up several flights of stairs while also lugging two suitcases, and despite everything, neither of them was particularly keen on taking the elevator. 

Finally, the door to their apartment opened, and just a little moment later, closed again. Movement stopped. Noise stopped. They stood there, in what Daniel realized was their home. Not a place where they were staying, waiting for news from their old world. Not Sally’s apartment. Not just a shelter from the elements. 

“Home,” Lisa said. 

“Home,” Daniel agreed, squeezing her hand, then took a step forward towards the couches. “Do you want to--” he started and then realized how silly it was for him to even suggest that. Sure, he hadn’t wanted to make any assumptions, even as they’d confessed to each other, but still… something probably would change. 

“Daniel,” Lisa said with a quiet, gentle smile. “Of course I’m taking the bedroom.” She strode right past him to the bedroom, leaving him standing there a little forlorn. Had he misinterpreted or misunderstood? Or was that normal? He wanted to give her the space she needed and deserved, of course, and he was deeply aware of the fact that their closeness didn’t entitle him to any kind of--

His thoughts were interrupted by an exasperated-looking Lisa who walked back into the room, grabbed him by the hand, dragged him to bed without another word, and he made a little mental note to try to stop overthinking things. He failed immediately the moment he stepped into the room, and the two of them stood opposite each other on either side of the bed. Was he supposed to just… crawl in? 

Despite her previously authoritative attitude, Lisa was now also awkwardly dawdling on the other side of the room. The awkwardness hung in the air like an unwelcome guest or a balloon with a slightly off-colour joke on it, finally popped by Lisa laughing and Daniel joining her. He walked around the bed and put his hands on her hips, before pulling her in for a kiss, both of them still smiling.

“Do we just…?” Daniel asked. It’s not that this was the first time he’d been with someone, but this felt… significant, somehow, and because of that, he felt awkward and silly and embarrassed. He felt, well, young. 

“I don’t know!” Lisa giggled and kissed him again. “Oh, to the hells with this,” she said, still grinning widely, and pulled her shirt over her head. Like a spell being broken. Daniel did the same, and then they stood there again, two awkward fools, but without shirts this time. “Do you want to…” she started and Daniel wrapped his arms around her. He didn’t know if she was cold or he was burning up. Not that it mattered. He pulled her in close and held her against him. 

Finally, for the first time in forever, the words came, quick and easy and exactly the right ones. “I would love nothing more, Lisa. We have also been awake for an ungodly amount of time and what I want, more than anything, is to fall asleep in your arms, and wake up in your arms, every day until the world comes to an end, and then we’ll find another one and do it all over again.” He punctuated every sentence with a small kiss, on her nose, her forehead, her cheeks, her lips. 

“Aa,” Lisa said and held him tighter. Whether the tears in her eyes were actually there or just a figment of his imagination didn’t really matter. The emotions in them were real. “I want nothing more.” She sat down on the bed and then scooted backwards, crawling under the covers, Daniel joining her. It took them a moment, arms and legs entangling as they tried to figure out for the first time how they fit together. Finally, the two of them found a comfortable position and settled, foreheads pressed together, and the whole world fell away. 

There were just the covers, and each other. Every single one of Daniel’s senses was primed to better be here and now, with her. To hear her, see her, smell her and, one sleepy-but-passionate kiss later, taste her. 

“This is real, isn’t it?” he asked. Lisa nodded, smiling, her eyes already drifting shut. 

“It is,” she said. “If you want it to be.” She paused for a moment and then nudged his nose with hers. “I know I certainly do.” Daniel gave a little boop back. 

“I want this,” he said. “I want to wake up with you, tomorrow and every day after.”

“Let’s,” Lisa said, and turned around. For a moment, Daniel worried he’d done something wrong or, god forbid, it had been his breath, but then he felt her back press against him and he wrapped his arms around her. He wasn’t that much taller than she was, but in that moment, she felt small, so small that all he could do was hold her, keep her close and safe and not under any circumstances let go. Well, he could certainly do that. 

“I love you, Lisa Drake,” he whispered in her ear, and she audibly purred. He wanted to say more, but he was dragged by the scruff of his neck into unconsciousness, and darkness slipped over him like a curtain being drawn closed. 

It felt like only moments later when he opened his eyes again, having no idea of what time it was. The first and only thing he was aware of, and wanted to be aware of, was Lisa’s warm shape, nestled against him, like they were made to be like this. Her form fit his, and was stirring slightly. That had probably been what woke him up. He made a little humming sound -- words, let alone his voice, not yet at full operational capacity -- and nuzzled the crook of her neck. 

“Good morning,” Lisa mumbled. She shuffled a little bit. “What time is it?”

“I have no idea,” Daniel said. 

“Good.” They stayed like this, for some time longer. Time didn’t really have any meaning. Not anymore. Not like this, when everything was, for a moment, perfect. Unbeknownst to them, reality itself, too, enjoys a bit of romance now and then, and will sometimes go to great lengths to ensure that a perfect moment lasts just a little bit longer. Reality, like all the best -- if sometimes unreliable -- narrators, is a bit of a sap, after all. 

They kissed. They held each other. They made love, because of course they did, and it was every bit as awkward and fumbling and perfect as they had hoped it would be, a mess of limbs and love and shy laughter. That was perfect, as well, and time slipped past quietly, having taken off its shoes so as not to disturb the two opposites that had finally found each other. 

It would all have lasted them for days, because everyone who’s ever been in love would sustain themselves with it if they could, if they didn’t inhabit flawed bodies that did, eventually, have to get up and eat. That’s a hurdle reality had yet to overcome.

They made breakfast together, Lisa having immediately stolen the shirt Daniel had worn before, the one that had changed to fit him when she’d helped him transform, and it was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. He kept trying to focus on making… well, anything (he eventually settled for coffee), but kept getting distracted by having to scuttle over to her kiss the back of her neck, to which she’d invariably respond by purring gently and nestling in his arms. 

It was somewhere in the morning. They’d slept and loved away a day and a night, and that was perfect, too. They curled up on the couch together, refusing to be apart for more than a few seconds at a time, hips and shoulders touching as they sat down together. As talkative they’d been on the way home, that quiet they were now, simply enjoying each other’s presence in a way they’d never really allowed themselves to before. Both of them nearly tossed the phone out the window when the infernal object rang, although their fury abated a little bit when Lisa picked up and it turned out to be Jenny who wanted to check up on them, to see if they were doing alright after the discomfort that had been the dinner. 

“We’re fine, Jenny,” Lisa said, making eye contact with Daniel. “Thank you for asking.”

“Tell them,” he whispered, practically giddy. He hadn’t been this excited to share something for as long as he could remember. Lisa bit her lip and nodded. 

“Daniel and I have some news,” she said, and even from where he was sitting he could hear Jenny’s triumphant yawp on the other side of the line. He could even hear the loudly exclaimed ‘Finally!’ Everything after that was warbled noise, but Jenny seemed incredibly excited. Lisa started to explain some things, but was seemingly cut off. After a while, she said her goodbyes and hung up. 

“So?” Daniel asked. “How did she take it?”

“Get dressed,” Lisa said. “We have another dinner to go to.”

“Oh!”

“Come on,” Lisa said. “I have to take a shower, and I need someone to wash my hair.” Daniel took her hand, kissed it, and let her drag him there. He wasn’t interested in pointing out that she’d managed to wash her hair just fine without him before. He had a dinner to get ready for, and he wanted to make a good impression on Lisa, after all.