Do me this honor

[very_sharpe]

Thomas planned a day. It isn't exactly their anniversary - that has come and gone - but he still wants to give Greta a lovely time. Brunch at a place they both like, followed by a matinee of a ballet performance and a walk through the park and maybe a little bit of leisurely but last minute Christmas shopping. Tea at the little cafe they had their first date.

All of it is to give Greta a day off, and more than that, to simply enjoy themselves together, not as parents or as people that needed to work. Sure, he's decided to make plans to take Saoire to see The Nutcracker now, especially since Greta thinks she'll enjoy it. But beyond that, it's rather lovely to be free of any obligation for the day.

It's easy enough to decide to walk home - it's an unseasonably nice evening and there's no rush, they can be leisurely.

"I had a lovely day. Thank you for indulging me," he says to Greta as the house comes into view.

Comments

[andhiswife]

Greta oofs playfully as Saoirse clambers onto their laps, but makes no real objection. It's sweet -- and understandable -- and it means she's close enough for Greta to drop a kiss onto her hair and give her arm a little rub.

"Oh," she says, as if seriously considering the idea. "I suppose we could. Just set our presents aside until our next birthdays roll around. We'd be opening them before you knew it." Well, Thomas and herself would; Saoirse would have a much longer wait, and Greta gives her arm a light squeeze to show she's joking.

And then she's distracted by Thomas's attentions, a warm smile spreading across her face as his I love you registers. She hums in quiet acknowledgment, then leans back enough to press a sweet, chaste kiss against his lips.

If someone had asked her an hour or so ago, she could have made a convincing argument that they didn't need to be married -- that they were living as if they were already, and a bit of paperwork wouldn't have made that much of a difference. But that was before she saw how happy her answer had made him. She knows his previous life was relatively joyless, and she's taken no small amount of pleasure in increasing his supply here, plying him with love and affection and humor as if feeding up a hungry person with her baking. She doesn't know quite what the metaphorical equivalent of that this would be -- like loosening a belt, or taking out a hemline -- but if something as simple as a bit of paper could make him that much happier, well. They could go to City Hall tomorrow, as far as she's concerned.

They can work out the details later. For now, she keeps one arm curled around Saoirse, and with the other, she finds Thomas's hand and laces their fingers together. They're a bit of a tangle, really, but a very cozy one.

[selkiesaoirse]

Saoirse listens to their teasing — and she knows they're teasing, just like she knows they're not going to save the presents for birthdays — and offers playful protests of her own.

But it's quickly quieted, as she snuggles with her parents, with Cú resting his chin on Saoirse's lap and Sadie curled up at Greta's feet. Later, she'll want cocoa, and maybe a book, and a bath before bed.

But for right now, all she wants is this. It's perfect.

[very_sharpe]

Thomas is content to just stay there for a while, cuddling Saoise with Greta. But when he realizes that the little girl is starting to fall asleep, he gently picks her up to carry her upstairs. It's the usual routine: making sure she's changed for bed, teeth-brushing, a story or two while she's tucked in.

He leans to press a kiss to Saoirse's forehead as he gets up. "Sleep well, darling. We'll see you in the morning."

He moves back so that Greta an have her proper turn and waits for her by the door. Thomas turns out the light and his hand finds Greta's on the short walk to their bedroom.

"Rather an eventful night."

[andhiswife]

It's both a relief and a slight surprise when Saoirse drifts off. Cozy as their arrangement might be, Greta can't imagine just falling asleep. Maybe it's because there was no music, or maybe it's because she was so taken off guard, or maybe she's simply excited, but she's been quietly fizzing with restless energy ever since Thomas popped the question.

She's masked it well enough, she thinks -- enough to not be mistaken for on edge, if nothing else. But she still feels as if she ought to be doing something, taking some sort of action besides the familiar routine of getting a half-dozing Saoirse scrubbed and into her pajamas and asleep beneath the covers.

A few options have occurred to her by the time they've eased themselves out of Saoirse's room and into the hall, some more practical (or enjoyable) than others. "It has that," she quietly agrees. She lifts their joined hands to press a kiss to the back of Thomas's palm, the engagement ring catching the light like no other bit of jewelry she's ever owned before. With a wry smile, she adds, "This will certainly take some getting used to." Thomas knows her background as well as she knows his; he's sure to understand that she's never worn anything so valuable in her life. Even if she'd owned such finery back home, it would have been kept under bloody lock and key, a family heirloom, and not worn daily. "I'm going to end up putting it away for safekeeping in my sleep. Probably ought to just apologize in advance."

[very_sharpe]

"We could always put it on a chain or something," he offers, smiling at the kiss to his hand. "I know it'll get in the way with some of the baking you do, especially anything that needs kneading."

Thomas finally takes off his sweater and pushes his hair back, making a small attempt to pull himself together.

"Or I could find you one of those little ring-holders and you can leave it in the kitchen. Whatever you do with it is fine, love. It's your ring," he says with a little smile. He leans to kiss her, sweet and soft. "I did try to find something a little more... low profile."

And indeed, the ring isn't particularly tall, less likely to catch on anything, but it still has stones and therefore the chance is there.

[andhiswife]

She tips her head in acknowledgment; they could. That's what she'd wound up doing with her old wedding ring during the competition; eventually -- perhaps, a little, just to see if Thomas might notice and what he might make of the change -- she'd stopped with the bother of switching it back and forth between finger and chain, and left it on the chain to stay. It had seemed fitting. Her old marriage was over, even if she wasn't explicitly angling for a new one. She didn't need to keep wearing it.

It would seem far less fitting to let her new engagement ring hang alongside it, if only because her old wedding ring is a sturdy thing. She wouldn't want them clattering together and knocking one of the diamonds into a bowl full of batter or something. God, it hardly bears thinking about.

The kiss manages to pull her out of her own head, and she smiles against his lips, her hand brushing down his side, sliding the fabric of his undershirt between her fingers. "I do appreciate that," she admits. "Anything larger than this, and I'd feel like I was going about with a 'rob me' sign stuck to my back."

Which is absurd, and she knows it -- she'd have to wear something far more ostentatious to far worse parts of town than she ever frequents to be in any real danger of that -- but two years in Darrow hasn't entirely purged her of her Village sensibilities.

She releases him and takes a step backward, sitting on the edge of the bed and examining the ring with a game attempt at a thoughtful frown. "Maybe if I was wearing only the ring," she muses with theatrical nonchalance, "so there was nothing else to distract me..."

[very_sharpe]

When he was looking for a ring, Thomas had gone through several phases of thinking he knew what would be best. At first he'd thought a simple, plain band would suffice - but that was what a wedding band was meant to be. And he'd told himself that the Sharpe ring had served as both engagement and wedding ring, but then he'd promptly put his memory of that particular piece of jewelry out of his mind. He knew it was tradition now to have two rings, and while he and Greta, for their own reasons, weren't particularly traditional, he wanted-- He doesn't know. He wanted something new for both of them.

Thomas tries, very hard, to school the smile off his face when Greta suggests wearing only the ring. "In the kitchen or out and about, darling? Because that might distract other people," he quips as he finishes undressing to the waist.

He sits beside Greta on the bed, ostensibly to take his shoes off, but also to admire the ring on her hand as she examined it.

"I think you'll be alright, but far be it from me to try to make any fashion decisions for you."

[andhiswife]

Personally, she thinks it's a bit rich of him to accuse her of being a distraction right before taking his own shirt off. But she manages, with some effort, to keep her focus on the ring and her expression one of only mild interest. When he sits down beside her, though, she can't help but lift her other hand to his back, her fingers idly tracing over his shoulders and down the ridge of his spine.

"Oh, I was only thinking of tonight," she says, keeping her tone as casual as she can. "Since it's so new, you see. But I do take your meaning, and the last thing I'd want to do is... distract you... when you're just trying to get a good night's sleep." She gives him a considering look as she twines her fingers into his hair, then says, with a tender solemnity that she should probably win some sort of award for: "I'd understand completely if you'd rather sleep on the couch."

[very_sharpe]

That startles a laugh out of him, and nearly a blush. "The light might catch it," he teases her. "Keep me up all night."

Thomas gives Greta an adoring look, though, because he does love her and through it all, she's brought so much happiness to his life. He shakes his head and leans close to kiss her, tender and lingering.

"I suppose I'll just suffer," he murmurs, trying to sound long-suffering and failing miserably. "The couch is so awfully far away, after the day we've had, don't you think?"

[andhiswife]

"It is rather blinding, isn't it?" she agrees with all due sympathy, loosely wrapping her arms around his neck. Maintaining a straight face is proving impossible, especially when he looks at her like that -- like she's hung the bloody moon in the sky. A warm smile lights her face as he leans in for a kiss, and meets him eagerly, one hand sliding down his chest, past his scars, then circling around his back to pull him closer.

When they break the kiss, she doesn't go far, dropping her chin so their foreheads nearly touch. "A fair point," she returns. "I wouldn't ask you to make a trek like that at this hour. Though if you're staying..." she moves to whisper in his ear, in part to hide her irrepressible smirk, and murmurs, "I could use some help getting out of all these clothes." Then, just to be sure she's got her point across, she gives his earlobe a very light nip.

[very_sharpe]

The graze of her teeth sends a pleasant shiver down Thomas's back and he pulls Greta a bit closer to him. He likes the way she holds him, and the way she no longer pauses over his scars in horror or in pity. Perhaps it never was the latter, but still.

"I suppose I could at least give you a hand," he quips, managing to keep his voice even enough. "It's the least I can do to make sure the ring doesn't get caught on anything."

[andhiswife]

She used to hesitate over his scars, not out of pity, or even horror, really, but out of caution -- unsure whether he wanted her hands anywhere near them, or if it would better or worse to act as if they weren't there at all. Part of her kept waiting for him to register an objection, or convey one with an unsteady breath or an awkward pause. But no complaint came, and as time has worn on... well, she imagines it would get rather tiresome for both of them if she lingered over them any time he had the temerity to take his shirt off around her. Far better to focus on the life they're building than the ones they've lost.

She's trailing little kisses down his neck when he manages his impressively measured response. But it's not so well crafted that he doesn't leave a rather glaring opening for her, and she grins, nuzzling into the spot where his neck meets his shoulder. "You could give me more than that, if you like," she says, before lifting her head to find his lips again.

They're making very little progress towards actually getting her clothes off, but then again, she doesn't mind taking her time. Saoirse's out like a light, and this doesn't have to be some hasty, furtive scramble.

[very_sharpe]

There was a time, perhaps in the first year after his arrival, that Thomas didn't want to acknowledge the scars or to let people see them. The one on his face is difficult to hide, but thankfully small. The ones on his chest-- well. He'd never had someone so interested in taking his shirt off, and so it'd been easy to avoid exposing himself to scrutiny.

But with Greta, it's alright. She knows his darker secrets, most of them, and she's still here. If anyone can survive his scars, it's her.

He can't help but smile when she teases him and he strokes his fingers across her cheek as they kiss again. There's no need to rush, not after the flurry of activity that the last hour has been. God, but he loves her.

[andhiswife]

"Here," she murmurs, lightly nudging him back with a hand on his chest, "move back just a bit." Once he obliges, she shifts to settle herself in his lap, her knees (somewhere beneath her skirts) framing his hips, her weight on his thighs. That puts the ties on the back of her dress within easier reach, if he's so inclined, but it also allows her to face him squarely. To just look at him for a moment. He's so beautiful, half-lit by the warm glow of their bedside lamp, his hair already in some disarray from her running her fingers through it. To gorgeous to be real, let alone hers.

Yet, here they are. She leans forward a little, close enough for their noses to brush. "I," she says, as if imparting a particularly delicious bit of gossip, "am going to make you so happy." After a lingering kiss, she pulls back just enough to add, "I take my wifely duties very seriously, you see."

[very_sharpe]

Thomas does as he's told, smiling when he finds Greta in his lap. His hands slid down along her sides, around her back to find the ties on her dress. He nearly closes his eyes when their noses touch.

He can't help the shiver that rushes down his back at her quiet promise. He looks up at her, adoring, and lets his hands drift down to hold her hips.

"I hope to make you just as happy, darling."

He's never been particularly good at husbanding, but he fully intends to change that in Darrow.

[andhiswife]

Greta shivers agreeably as his hands begin to roam, then make quick work of the ties at the back of her dress. The bodice loosens subtly, more so when she draws in a deep breath and releases it in a contented sigh. She's distantly aware that removing the garment entirely will require getting up -- or some other creative repositioning -- but for the moment, she's happy to remain where she is.

At his quiet pronouncement, she grins outright. "Best get to it, then," she murmurs, kissing him again, still unhurried, but now with an unmistakable intent. One hand sinks into his hair, curling into a loose fist; she rolls her other shoulder in an attempt to shrug out of her sleeve. It would be a quick enough task if she used both hands, but she doesn't want to stop touching him.

[very_sharpe]

Thomas leans close to kiss Greta's shoulder when her dress slides away, just enough. They could certainly undress each other faster, but there's no rush. Saoirse is out after all that excitement, and honestly, it's been ages since it felt like they weren't in a hurry (or too exhausted) for one reason or another.

He trails kisses up Greta's neck and gently bites her earlobe as his hands slide over her hips. "I love you," he murmurs against her skin, in case she hasn't heard it enough tonight. Thomas lifts his head and he can't help but smile.

"And you're going to marry me."

[andhiswife]

The nip causes her breath to hitch and her hand to tighten its hold on his hair, and she only just manages to suppress an undignified squeaking sound. But she deliberately loosens her grip a moment later, not wanting to hurt him (much, or yet -- they're pacing themselves, and she likes the thought of just being able to take her time with him).

"And I you," she breathes, leaning back a little as he lifts his head.

A warm smile spreads across her face as he reiterates the theme of the evening. Several teasing responses occur to her, but she doesn't have the heart to voice them -- not when she knows how much this means to him. A real marriage, after so many false ones. A little gentle ribbing is certainly in his future, but she can restrain herself for one night.

"I am," she agrees, running her hand down his arm, then back up to his shoulder, tracing over a spray of freckles that winter hasn't quite erased, yet. "And then you'll be well and truly stuck with me." Teasing doesn't count if it's at her own expense, she decides, before leaning in to kiss his temple, then the hinge of his jaw. "I hope you've thought this through."

[very_sharpe]

Thomas is sure he's earned some teasing at some point or another - Greta knows him, knows his history, and that they can joke about it at all is, he thinks, a good sign.

"I think I can manage being stuck with you, my dear."

He slides his hands up Greta's back, holding her as he rolls them over and gently lands on top of her.

"You know, I am terribly prone to reckless decision-making," he quips, eyes bright with amusement and adoration as he looks down at her. Teasing at his own expense must be fair game. The fact that he's been working on this decision for months is the punchline. His hand smooths over Greta's thigh and starts to gather her dress higher.

"But I think we'll be alright."

[andhiswife]

Greta has to bite back a laugh as he rolls her onto her back -- the walls are thick enough, but she doesn't want to tempt fate. Instead, she grins up at him, her arms twining around his neck.

"That's true," she says, trying (and mostly failing) to school her expression into one of solemn agreement. Thomas is many things; reckless isn't one of them. His proposal might be the boldest move he's made in their relationship, and he doubtless planned it for months. "I'll have to rephrase the apologies I'm always doling out on your behalf. 'I'm so sorry about my husband; he gets like this, sometimes.'"

Warmth pools in her belly as his hand slides up her thigh, and she wriggles a little, making it easier to push her skirts out from under her. "'You'll have to forgive my impulsive husband, Thomas,'" she gamely continues, her hands drifting down his back to trace along the waistband of his trousers. If he really wants to shut her up, she reasons, he has several options at his disposal. "'He does whatever he likes; there's no reasoning with him...'"

[very_sharpe]

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.

[andhiswife]

He kisses her not a moment too soon, and she smiles against his lips, the laughter that had been threatening to bubble out of her escaping, instead, as a sigh. She loves making him laugh. It's always been its own reward, if only because she's gathered that 'full of laughter' wouldn't describe the life he led before they met. That he's found such an agreeable way to stifle it is a bonus.

She draws him down to her, loving the weight of him pressing her into the mattress, her thighs tightening unconsciously around him. "I believe," she murmurs, only barely breaking the kiss, her lips still brushing against his as she speaks, "you offered to give me a hand with something." There are plenty of perks to taking their time and drawing things out, of course, but that doesn't mean she isn't growing increasingly desperate for the feeling of his hands on her skin.

[very_sharpe]

"Did I? And what was that? If it was getting you out of this dress, we might have stifled our efforts," he quips, giving the fabric a firmer tug to try and get it higher around Greta's hips.

Thomas eases back, giving Greta bit more room to maneuver though he is reluctant to give up their closeness. "Come on," he encourages, a little laugh still in his voice. "You're far too dressed for this proceedings."

Levity is something that's long been missing from his life before Greta came into it. That they can still tease each other in the midst of undressing is something. But he wants to be closer, and he has a head start on undressing.

[andhiswife]

"Ugh," Greta grumbles in a general protest that might cover both his joke and the predicament (such as it is) in which they've found themselves. "You did," she insists, though she's also fully aware that the most practical thing he can do is back away a bit, and that's the last thing she wants.

Well, the second-to-last thing. The actual last thing is being stuck in this frock for the entirety of the proceedings.

So she sighs in disappointment when he draws back, but also wastes little time in wriggling out of her sleeves. With a little help from Thomas, she pulls the garment up over her head, and -- after a giggle-inducing few moments of feeling as if she's camping beneath the bloody skirt -- she's finally free. Her hair is a little worse for being dragged several which ways by the fabric, but she's finally down to just her underthings and a slip (and that is loose enough to offer little resistance).

"Huzzah," she says as they dump the dress off the edge of the bed, and then she winds her arms around him with a much happier sigh. "I've missed you terribly," she murmurs.