Thomas tries not to laugh, he does, because even if Saoirse is out like a light right now, the last thing they need is for her to suddenly appearing, insisting she heard laughter and concerned she's missing something.

He can't even school his smile, though, struggling with it as Greta's hands tease down his back.

"Oh yes, you'll have to practice that one," he says, attempting desperately to sound solemn. "You'll be trotting it out the most, I think. Really you might want to make some cards or something that you can pass out--"

He stifles a laugh and attempts to silence both of them by sinking into a kiss. He can feel the warmth of her thighs against his hips, the laughter in her chest. And it was perfect.