A/N: I fell absolutely in love with this show, and Blanche/Agnes in particular- nothing you can say will convince me that season three doesn't make them canon. Just a short fluff piece.

Disclaimer: I don't own a thing.

It's past midnight by the time she returns to Eaton Place; Spargo helps her from the car and she follows him inside, not bothering to ring the bell and wake everyone. She's tired and aching from the journey, but Hector and Veronica are well, and safe, and that's all that matters to her. Now she can climb into a warm bed, and curl up around the body that's surely already in it.

Hallam has been gone for almost six months, and the house finally seems to be almost back to normal. Her ring is stowed in the back drawer of her vanity, and she feels no desire to wear it again.

She climbs the stairs wearily, hand on the rail as she moved upwards. She walks down the hall towards the bedroom and pauses in the half-open doorway, shaking her head at her lover's defiance of the rule of keeping the door shut all the way. Her eyes fall on the bed and the ruffled blonde curls that peek out from under the duvet; while tightly coiled during the day, at night the ringlets drifted around slim shoulders and traced jawlines. Agnes smiled fondly, warmth filling her chest.

She undressed quickly and quietly, slipping into a nightgown before she climbed into bed, shifting so that she pressed against Blanche's back, nose buried in curls that smelled like books and paper and ink. Blanche shifted sleepily, humming softly as she rolled onto her back, one hand reaching over to grasp at Agnes' hip.

"Agnes?" she murmured, eyes blinking open against the heavy sleep in them, lips curling into a half-smile. "I wasn't expecting you until tomorrow."

"I couldn't stay away any longer, my love," Agnes whispered, leaning forward to brush her lips over the other woman's cheek, inhaling her scent as she nuzzled her ear. Blanche murmured in approval, turning on her side to face Agnes and stroke her sides gently, tilting her head to encourage her caresses.

Agnes pressed kisses down the length of her neck, nipping gently at her collarbone and reveling in Blanche's sleep-shadowed gasp. Her nightshirt pulled tight against her chest and highlighted her full breasts, and with a soft groan, Agnes lifted a hand to cup one, squeezing gently. Blanche gave a moan at that, pushing into the touch, leaning forward to press her lips to Agnes'.

As Agnes brushed a thumb over a peaked nipple, she let out a small yawn, blinking sleepily as she nuzzled against Blanche's jaw. The older woman noticed, taking both of her hands and framing her lover's face, smiling softly.

"You're exhausted, love. I'll be here in the morning," she murmured, thumbs brushing her cheekbones as she leaned forward to kiss her softly. Agnes hummed, leaning into the touch briefly before they parted, and she rolled onto her other side so she could press back into Blanche's embrace, content. "I'm so glad you're home."

"I'm so glad to be back with you," Agnes murmured, drowsy in Blanche's warm embrace, sleep tugging on the corners of her eyes. "You must come with me next time- I can't stand to be away from you for so long."

"I can't stand you to be away from either darling," Blanche murmured, feeling Agnes press even closer to her. She pressed a kiss to her ear, closing her eyes and sighing softly.

For the first time in four days she fell asleep almost instantly.