called_lioness | (no subject)

(no subject)

Susan's nagging her.

Well, not nagging, Lucy admits as she climbs out of the bath and grabs her robe. Not nagging, but asking questions, like "rings" and "dress" and "WHEN are you getting married, Lu?" and Lucy's rather decided she should probably find out the answer to at least some of those questions.

So, she decides as she slips on nightgown and finger-combs through wet hair, she will just have to, when Caspian returns.

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"I don't want you to feel badly, stupid."

She's a little exasperated herself.

"I just want to understand. And I don't. And I feel badly I asked him now. And I know." There's no exasperation in that. "I do know you try."

Lucy makes a small face, but says, "And that is your choice," firmly, "and I'm certain he'll agree."

He starts to say something, and pauses, and then he is laughing helplessly, forearms on his knees and he falls into it with abandon.

"Oh, no," he says, slightly breathless, when the first spasm has passed. "Listen to us, Lu. We'll never get anywhere like this."

She covers her face with her hands and flops onto her back, groaning good-naturedly before letting her hands fall to her sides.

"All I want," she informs the ceiling, though she likely means for Caspian to hear, "is to marry you. It shouldn't be this difficult."

"Perhaps we can think of other things the other doesn't like, just to make certain we include them," he suggests, falling next to her, still shaking with laughter.

"We'll likely be spending eternity doing that, and never actually get married," she grins and rolls to lie on his stomach, looking down at him.

"I'll have Adam, and you'll have Peter," she says, after a moment, still grinning. "And we'll have garlands and rings both, and ask Aslan to marry us. That only leave, oh, fifty, a hundred more details to decide, doesn't it?"

"Can't someone else handle them?" he asks, helplessly. "What about Susan? She likes that sort of thing, doesn't she?"

"No," but she's grinning and kisses him, briefly. "Or rather, she likes it, but if Susan does it, we're likely to have a wedding more like your last one. And I don't want that." She sits up and scoots next to him, looking down with a very determined look.

She is going to get the details worked out, because, in Lucy's mind, the sooner that's done, the sooner the whole thing can be done with, and she'd rather like to have a husband more than a fiance.

"Vows."

"Vows," he echoes, firmly.

And waits to see if she's going to add anything else.

He's grinning. One hand lifts to run through her hair, resting at the nape of her neck.

"You're not being all that helpful right now, you know," she mock-scolds, even as she grins and bends to kiss his forehead.

And then his mouth, because it's grinning and it's there and she can.

"We should probably have them," she finishes, sternly, except for the smile that's still there.

"I agree. We should certainly have them," he says, reaching up with his other hand to pull her down by the shoulders and kiss her rather more thoroughly. At any rate, he seems distracted, because he stops talking about vows fairly quickly.

She was very determined, she thinks, to have this discussion, but it's rapidly becoming unimportant, compared with how he tastes.

She pulls away finally, and murmurs, "Not fair," as she brushes her fingers through his hair.

"You," he says sternly, sweeping a thumb softly over her cheek, "are distracting me. We're meant to be talking about vows, remember."

Her eyes narrow at that and she leans in to kiss him as deeply as she can, forgetting about things like "air" and "breathing" as she does so, letting her hand trail over his side.

And then she pulls away again and says, after taking a breath, rather serenely, "Yes. We are."

He just lies there, stunned, and stares at her, before sitting abruptly up and wrestling her down onto the bed.

"Vows," he repeats, though his breathing is a little uneven.

"Are there any in particular you'd like to use?"

"The ones I know of," Lucy answers, laughing as she looks up at him and runs her hand over his shoulder, "are only good til death. Seems inappropriate. You?"

"Nothing specific is coming to mind," he muses, and leans down to press kisses along her throat, "but the ones I remember have that as well."

"Oh." Either at the news or the kisses.

Likely, the way her eyes close, at the kisses.

"We'll have to--we'll have to make something up, then," she says firmly, but her breathing's a bit less steady than it was and her hand's continued down his side.

"Told Mary Lennox she could be a flower girl. I'm certain she'll," and Lucy smiles, a little, as she traces her fingers about his hip, "be able to help with garlands."

"Doubtless," he agrees, and laughs into the crook of her shoulder and neck. "Are there any other positions we need filled? We could get them out of the way," sensibly, "before we have to concentrate on vows. And after all," he pushes himself up on one elbow, and looks down at her with a smile.

"What words we choose aren't important. What they mean is the same--that I love you, and against all hope or reason you love me, and that we want to be together, and that I can will you wife and you will call me husband."

He still looks amazed by it all.

"You're too far away," she murmurs and reaches up to pull his head down for another kiss.

That out of the way, she looks up at him and smiles widely.

"Against reason? I think you insult me, my lord. And I disagree, beyond that. The rest works quite nicely, though. I think we can write them. As for positions...there's time to think on that, too."

Because suddenly, some of it doesn't seem quite so urgent a priority, as she pulls him down for another kiss, asking around it, "When and where?"

He follows her pull without complaint, and kisses her softly, running his hand long her side and up her arm to the curve of her face.

"Soon," he says, after looking at her for a long moment, at the way her bright hair spreads over the bedcovers.

"I don't know where. But soon. We've waited too long already."

"Soon," she agrees, and slips her hand under his shirt to feel warm skin.

"I'm impatient for this. If I thought I could get away with it, I'd wed you tomorrow."

"And what of the plans?" he teases, and shivers at the touch of her fingers along his skin.

"They would all come to naught."

"I suppose," she sighs, and trails her fingers across his side, his chest, "we'll have to wait a little then. For the sake of the plans. And Lilly'd be horrified if she didn't get to throw her parties, and all."

"On second thought," he amends quickly, "I think we should be married tomorrow."

She laughs at that and says, "If only," pulling her hand back to clasp both behind her head and grinning up at him.

"But Susan would kill us. Besides, I need to get you a gift yet."