(no subject)

[clumsy_auror]

"Last load," she announces, plunking the laundry basket down on the living room floor, "and Sunny's having juice and a snack in her Office, today, because she asked very nicely, and Anthony's asleep, finally."

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[clumsy_auror]

Her mouth skims along his jaw, hand smoothing over his back, and she grins against his skin.

"You're quite easy to distract, you know."

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

"Well, you're very distracting," he replies, fingertips skimming her waist.

[clumsy_auror]

Nymphadora gently nips at his earlobe.

"So tell me," she murmurs, "what's up for the rest of the day?"

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Biting back a moan, "I dunno. I'm too distracted to remember." His hand slips under her shirt.

[clumsy_auror]

A laugh. "Well, I think Sunny'll be ready to be entertained... any moment, really. So let's try and keep everyone's pants on."

Still kissing his neck, though.

Drat her.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Bernard bites his lip and lets his hand wander to the small of her back.

"Nymphadora, your words and actions aren't exactly matching up perfectly."

[clumsy_auror]

"I know," she mumbles, her hand fisting in his shirt. "'M a bitch."

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Their hips bump together, and Bernard lets out a not-so-small groan before he can stop himself, belatedly muffling the sound against her mouth. The hand at her back curls into a half-fist, fignernails digging in just enough to sting.

[clumsy_auror]

And at that, she lets out an audible whimper, and after a few moments deliberately pulls back.

"...I'm a bad person. I know this."

She starts extricating herself, cheeks flushed.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

He winces, and grabs her, pulling her down for once last kiss. "So am I."

[clumsy_auror]

"Mm. Well, at least we're well-matched."

A careful kiss, and then she rolls off the couch, visibly collecting herself and then picking up the laundry basket.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Another groan, very soft, and Bernard turns onto his stomach, hiding his red face in the cushion.

Foiled by children again. Foiled by the possibility of children.

Augh.

[clumsy_auror]

Biting her lip, and feeling a bit bad, Nymphadora walks down the hallway towards the bedroom.

There's no rush. None at all, really.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

No, there isn't.

Eventually, Bernard gets up, rubs his eyes tiredly, and sneak-attacks the Queen in her Office with Ellie as his accomplice. He is then recruited for a couple hours' play duty (he does a passable Captured Princess to Sunny's Kickass Pwince), until it's time to start dinner.

Roast chicken is easy.

Roast chicken is tasty.

Roast chicken is stunningly unerotic to prepare.

Clever Bernard.

[clumsy_auror]

Nymphadora helps, chopping up spinach and tomatoes for the salad whilst Anthony dozes in his sling.

"Are we out of dressing?" she asks, pulling her hair into a messy knot at the back of her head.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Bernard nods, his hands covered in herbed butter that he's smoothing under the chicken's skin.

"You could make some. Quarter cup olive oil, quarter cup balsamic vinegar, teaspoon italian seasoning, whisk and set aside." He shrugs. It's easy.

[clumsy_auror]

"...Right." 'Dora grins suppresses an eyeroll at his ability to just rattle off recipes, of both the chemical and the edible sort, at random.

She sets to work fixing the dressing, jogging Anthony a bit when he gurgles up at her. "You're such a good helper, aren't you. Shall we add nuts to the salad? Yes?"

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Bernard grins at the raw poultry as he sticks celery and carrots in the bird's body cavity, tying it up after. He turns to wash his hands before touching the pan.

"Did you preheat the oven?"

[clumsy_auror]

"Yep."

A kiss to his cheek, and then she carries the salad and dressing to the fridge.

"Anything else to go with?" she asks, scratching her nose and looking thoughtful.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

"Hmm..." He pops the chicken in the oven and walks over to stand behind her, slipping his arms around her hips. He tickles Anthony's foot. "A starch, I think. Potatoes or sautéed parsnips and carrots?"

[clumsy_auror]

"Mmmm. Parsnips and carrots, I think. I can work on that. Anything herb-y to put with them while they cook?"

Anthony shouts quietly and kicks the heel of Bernard's hand, his own tiny fingers clutching the edge of the bright pink sling.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

"Thyme, but not right away. It'll burn in the butter." He kisses the nape of her neck and catches Anthony's foot in his hand for a second, before turning to pull the plates and silverware out of the cupboard. "How long before you can have wine with dinner again?"

[clumsy_auror]

The witch sets the butter to melting in the pan, and pulls out a clean cutting board.

"I... reckon I could have a small glass of white, tonight. Anthony just ate, so. It'll be out of my system for the most part before he's hungry again."

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Setting the table, "I'll uncork some when the chicken's done, then." Returning to the kitchen, he pulls the parsnips and carrots out of the crisper and starts to wash them for her. "What you want is to halve them longways, or quarter them if they're big like this one," he holds a massive parsnip up to illustrate, "but keep the pieces about three inches long so they stay firm in the butter but still cook through."

Juuuuuuuuuust smack him for pedantry. Anytime. Really.

[clumsy_auror]

A slightly fixed smile. "Honey?"