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Jan. 14th, 2005 01:23 amTonks was sitting up in bed, a case file open on her lap and a self-inking quill in her hand.
Tap, tap.
She raised an eyebrow and glanced at her bare leg, sticking out from under the sheet. Bernard’s pencil tapped against her knee in a sort of disjointed rhythm. She snuck a quick glance at him.
“Need something?”
He pulled an innocent face, adjusting the sketchpad on his lap. “Me? No. Not at all. Just thinking.”
Tonks hid a smile and went back to her file, scratching out a few notes. Silence reigned for a few moments.
“What’re you working on?” Bernard suddenly rolled over onto his side, his sketch pad forgotten. He leaned over and kissed her bare shoulder, his arm snaking around her waist.
“The O’Brien case. We’re nearly done, just working on the reports and final things.”
He nodded, pulling her closer, and she scrawled another note in the margins before leaning down to kiss the top of his head. “And what were you working on, just then?”
Bernard couldn’t quite hide a smirk. “Plans.”
“Bomb plans, or…other plans?”
The smirk grew into a sly smile. “Plans for Raph. He’ll get what’s coming to him.”
Tonks thought of the notice on the board in the bar, and was suddenly exceedingly glad that Bernard couldn’t quite see the grin on her face from this angle. “Mmmm-hmm.”
He paused, and peered up at her suspiciously. “All right?”
She hastily covered over the grin with a yawn. “Yeah. Jus’ tired, I suppose.”
“Well.” Bernard sat up, plucked the quill from her hands, shut the file, and put them both on the nightstand. “You’re done for the night, then.” He shut off the light and rolled back over to face her, while Tonks smiled and slid down under the covers next to him. She curled close to him, her head resting on his chest, gazing out into the dark room.
After a moment, Bernard spoke. His low voice rumbled slightly in his chest, reverberating beneath her ear. “You send that letter to Crowley?”
Tonks nodded. “Told him where to find their headquarters. I’m a bit worried about him, to be honest.”
Bernard’s arms tightened around her. “Crowley can take care of himself.” At her slight noise of protestation, he ran his hand soothingly along her upper arm. “I know, I know, so can you. But he’s not the one on that hit list. You are.”
Her voice was quiet. “I know I am.” She turned her head slightly for a moment, kissing the scarred, freckled skin of his chest. And then she paused. “That’s the way it is, with me.”
There was something unspoken in her statement, something like a quiet warning. Leave now, if you can’t handle it. Before it gets too hard.
She heard him take a deep breath, and then he slid a hand into her hair.
“I know, Nymphadora.”
And she heard the unspoken from him, too. No.
A wave of incredible relief washed over her, and she smiled against his skin.
She'd known, really. But she needed to hear it, anyway.
Tap, tap.
She raised an eyebrow and glanced at her bare leg, sticking out from under the sheet. Bernard’s pencil tapped against her knee in a sort of disjointed rhythm. She snuck a quick glance at him.
“Need something?”
He pulled an innocent face, adjusting the sketchpad on his lap. “Me? No. Not at all. Just thinking.”
Tonks hid a smile and went back to her file, scratching out a few notes. Silence reigned for a few moments.
“What’re you working on?” Bernard suddenly rolled over onto his side, his sketch pad forgotten. He leaned over and kissed her bare shoulder, his arm snaking around her waist.
“The O’Brien case. We’re nearly done, just working on the reports and final things.”
He nodded, pulling her closer, and she scrawled another note in the margins before leaning down to kiss the top of his head. “And what were you working on, just then?”
Bernard couldn’t quite hide a smirk. “Plans.”
“Bomb plans, or…other plans?”
The smirk grew into a sly smile. “Plans for Raph. He’ll get what’s coming to him.”
Tonks thought of the notice on the board in the bar, and was suddenly exceedingly glad that Bernard couldn’t quite see the grin on her face from this angle. “Mmmm-hmm.”
He paused, and peered up at her suspiciously. “All right?”
She hastily covered over the grin with a yawn. “Yeah. Jus’ tired, I suppose.”
“Well.” Bernard sat up, plucked the quill from her hands, shut the file, and put them both on the nightstand. “You’re done for the night, then.” He shut off the light and rolled back over to face her, while Tonks smiled and slid down under the covers next to him. She curled close to him, her head resting on his chest, gazing out into the dark room.
After a moment, Bernard spoke. His low voice rumbled slightly in his chest, reverberating beneath her ear. “You send that letter to Crowley?”
Tonks nodded. “Told him where to find their headquarters. I’m a bit worried about him, to be honest.”
Bernard’s arms tightened around her. “Crowley can take care of himself.” At her slight noise of protestation, he ran his hand soothingly along her upper arm. “I know, I know, so can you. But he’s not the one on that hit list. You are.”
Her voice was quiet. “I know I am.” She turned her head slightly for a moment, kissing the scarred, freckled skin of his chest. And then she paused. “That’s the way it is, with me.”
There was something unspoken in her statement, something like a quiet warning. Leave now, if you can’t handle it. Before it gets too hard.
She heard him take a deep breath, and then he slid a hand into her hair.
“I know, Nymphadora.”
And she heard the unspoken from him, too. No.
A wave of incredible relief washed over her, and she smiled against his skin.
She'd known, really. But she needed to hear it, anyway.
