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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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."

"I haven't a need for any other gift," he says, laying down beside her and resting his head on her shoulder. "You're marrying me, after all."

"I want to give you one, anyway. Mum did for Father." She turns her head to kiss his neck, gently, for a moment. "Let me."

"All right." It's less permission than agreement, and he closes his eyes, breathing her in.

"How soon? And, well...it'll have to be here, I suppose, so it ought to be outside."

"Very soon," is Lucy's response as she kisses down to his shoulder, then his chest.

"Not that I mind how things are," she adds, looking up at his face and brushing the back of her fingers against his cheek.

"But I want you. As my husband as much as anything else. And I am," she repeats and kisses his forehead again, "impatient. How soon do you think we can?"

"Most of those we would wish to be here are available fairly often," he muses, "so I suppose it comes down to how quickly we might be able to organize it all."

"How's next week?"

...All right, she's not serious.

Entirely.

But she's a little hopeful.

"I'm fairly certain that's out of the question," he laughs, "but perhaps by the end of the month, or shortly afterwards. I'm not certain--what do we need to have? Flowers we can gain easily enough, rings I am less certain about. What else?"

"Vows," she sighs, rolling back onto her back to study the ceiling. "Of some sort. We don't need rings, really. And I suppose...an alternative idea, for a celebrant, if Aslan shouldn't be able to."

The ceiling is unhelpful, really, in providing answers.

"I've no clue."

"We needn't decided everything this instant, Lu," he says, kissing her shoulder. "Everything will be managed."

"But if we don't," she mutters, making a face, "it still has to be decided."

And she rather dislikes that idea.

"I do like the idea of the end of the month," she adds, quietly.

"Aye," also quietly, and he shifts and pulls her up against his chest.

"Then the end of the month it is."

"31st?"

She's content, really, to rest her head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat, and it's enough that she can't help smiling as she asks the question.

"Think I'll figure out a gift for you by then. Unless you've got an idea?"