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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"So do I," gently. "I've not even married you yet, but I still wish there were some way."

"If there was," quietly, "even now--" And she stops, and bites her lip, and shrugs a little.

"If I'd imagined this before, it wouldn't have been--not much, I suppose, like how it is," she says, running a hand along his arm. "I think I would've thought a lot of it was impossible or silly. But it happened."

"I thought it was impossible even to see you again," he tells her, lifting her hand to kiss her palm.

"And here we are."

"So what if it's not impossible?"

There.

Now it's not just hope in her head.

He's quiet for a long while, stroking a hand over her hair.

"That is my hope, as well." Finally.

She sighs and moves her head to kiss him, softly, if for a long while, before she pulls away and looks at him.

"It doesn't hurt to hope."

Well, not exactly. It does hurt, a bit, to have that hope.

But it does no harm.

"It does."

But it's said gently, and Caspian shakes his head.

"But we hope anyway. And we'll--we'll think of something."

"But not as much as it hurts not to."

It's strange, because.

If she wanted a child, she could have had one. But that's not it. It's not a child, it's your and my child and our child that matters to her.

Maybe, she admits, she just wants too much, but it doesn't feel like it should be too much.

"And if we don't--if we don't, I've you."

Which is a way of saying, if we don't--I have all I need, still.

"And Adam and Alanna's child," he points out, with a small smile, "whom I'm certain we will be seeing much of."

"And spoil rotten," she nods, and laughs, and if her eyes are a little bright, it's Caspian.

It's all right for them to be so with him, she thinks, and she's still grinning as she pushes him from his side to his back and leans over him.

"We decided quite a bit tonight, then."

"I'm terribly impressed," he says, sincerely, and straight-faced. "We'll be done with plenty of time to spare before we even take stock."

This is a lie.

"You know what we have time to do, then?"

Very seriously indeed, as she leans over to rest her forehead against his.

"Design flower arrangements...?" Innocently.

"Nope," she beams, and brushes her lips against his forehead.

"Try again."

"To find someone to take care of the twins for a night or a fortnight?" Hopeful. So hopeful.

Too bad Lucy's going to crush those hopes.

"Perhaps," she says, thoughtfully, and lowers her head to kiss his mouth gently.

"But not that either. Last try."

He kisses her back, slow and soft, and his hand finds its way 'round the back of her head to slip through her hair.

"To kiss you as often as possible?"

She sighs and relaxes a little more against him, delaying her response with another kiss.

"You'd better," is the soft reply as her hand drifts down his side. "And more than that. But actually, I meant this." And the hand that had been gently drifting and trailing fingers across his chest stops on a spot she knows he finds ticklish and attacks.

Yelping, he twists, trying to pull away, and curls up laughing.

And she's giggling as she flops over him, grinning down at him.

"Last question, rings or merely garlands, and then I intend to have my way with you."

This may, admittedly, just mean more tickling.

"Both," he says, firmly, and before realizing fully that he has just lost the advantage, and therefore retaliates, hands down at her waist where he knows she's ticklish.

"Deal."

And then she's shrieking, as she rolls away, and cries out, "No fair!"

This is, of course, HYPOCRISY.

But she shrieks it anyway, and throws one of the pillows at him.

Beneath the bed, Lilac looks at Lavender and gives a long-suffering sigh.

Silly humans.

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