well it doesn’t matter what you want because you’re getting it anyway
Artemis let out a low whistle as Zatanna flicked on the lights, “Nice place Zee,” the nickname she hadn’t used in years slipped out. Artemis inwardly kicked herself as Zatanna paused for a moment before making her way to the table and setting down the groceries. Artemis walked over and began to unload the bags, but had to pause every few seconds and ask Zatanna where things went. The magician would smile; lips pursed and a sparkle in her eyes that good god, thought Artemis should be illegal. And for several minutes they unloaded groceries in comfortable silence as a pang of longing shot through the archer.
How domestic they must look to the outside eye. And for a moment Artemis let herself think about coming home everyday to Zatanna, to going grocery shopping together, and bickering over dinner and whose turn it was to do the dishes or take out the trash; but in the end Zatanna would always give her that bemused smile and Artemis would do whatever she asked. The archer would have sushi instead of mac and cheese, walk the garbage down sixty floors to the dumpster, scrape crusty, week old food off of dishes and unload a million grocery bags for that smile. To be able to come home at night and wrap her arms around Zatanna-around her magician. To lean in close and inhale that which could only be described as Zatanna; the smell of rose petals and vanilla and fresh rain and all these things that Artemis couldn’t begin to list. She would lean in, knowing the raven haired woman was all hers and-
“Artemis?” the archer felt a warm hand on her shoulder a second before the carton of milk slipped through her fingers.
