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[clumsy_auror]

It's over.

It's done.

They've been back to the bar with the kids and Ellie and Hiss and most of their things, and Dude and Kathleen have volunteered to watch Sunny and Anthony for a couple of hours while Nymphadora and Bernard go back to clean up Crowley's flat.

The Lego blocks and story books are largely tidied up, and now 'Dora is in Crowley's bedroom, putting fresh linens on the bed.

She's been quiet, despite the relief of having their home and all of their friends at Milliways safe.

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[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Bernard is cleaning the perishable stuff out of the fridge. He doesn't know about the amazing restorative qualities of Crowley's icebox.

"...You know, I didn't even know they made artichoke tapenade."

Looks like he discovered some of Crowley's gourmet thingamabobs.

[clumsy_auror]

"Didn't either," she calls back vaguely, smoothing down the fitted sheet with far more care than she would devote to her own. They are quite lovely. Higher thread count than any self-respecting sheet ought to have.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

They should get some.

Bernard sets the trash by the door and wanders into the bedroom, taking one side of the flat sheet and helping her center it on the bed.

"We should ask him where he got his mattress."

[clumsy_auror]

"Probably gets a new one automatically delivered every New Year," she murmurs, pulling the sheet taut and tucking it in at the end of the bed. "Must have the best, after all."

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

He smiles to himself. "'Course."

He turns to pick up the blanket. "Did you notice that the stereo speakers aren't hooked up, but they work anyway?"

[clumsy_auror]

Absently, "Sure they do. Aziraphael once convinced a toaster to play one of my U2 CDs, so I'm certain Crowley has comporable powers."

Tuck, tuck the sheet. Smooth the blanket. Reach for the pillows.

Housecleaning is nice, when you're not particularly interested in thinking.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

They're quiet for a moment, working.

"We should probably get the crayon off the wall out there. Unless you wanna leave it."

[clumsy_auror]

"No, I'll charm it off. He did us a favor, not kicking us out."

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Bernard's brows furrow at that.

"What do you mean?"

[clumsy_auror]

"Well, I mean..."

She wanders out into the hall, shutting the linen closet door, and then continues out into the living room.

"He came home in the middle of the bloody night to find us in his flat, whereupon I hexed him, on top of which we weren't on the best of terms to begin with."

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

He follows. "Which was his fault, and which he feels more than sorry for. I think he was glad we didn't kick him out, his flat or no."

[clumsy_auror]

"Well that's rubbish. I wouldn't kick him out no matter where we were."

Nymphadora starts methodically charming the mess around the room, sending cushions back into their places and removing any errant crayon from the walls.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Insistently, "And neither would he." He ducks a pillow before it brains him.

[clumsy_auror]

A glance in his direction. "I do know that. He wouldn't-- it's me. And Crowley. I might be uncertain about a lot of things, but I know that he would move Heaven and Hell and everything in between to keep me, personally, safe."

Her.

But what about the rest of her world?

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

And he never lied about that. The rest of the world was fair game. It just never hit so close before.

"But sometimes he doesn't see the big picture the same way we do."

[clumsy_auror]

"Well, and I can't expect him to," 'Dora replies, her brow furrowing slightly as she pulls a few stray toys into a tote bag. "Demon. Six thousand years old. Bloody great wings. Take your pick."

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

He flops onto the couch, suddenly a bit tired. "I can't get over the fact that he did it to be near us."

[clumsy_auror]

And just like that, her face softens, and she pauses with one hand pulling the armchair cushion back into place.

Quietly, "Yeah. Can't either."

Because, oh.

How much would she have loved having him home?



How much would she still?

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Picnics by the lake.

Trips to the National Gallery with Sunny.

The parks, the bookshop, the Ritz.

He's got this list, see, of all the things he wishes he could do with Crowley on a lazy Thursday afternoon. Monday morning.

Whatever.

"Maybe things will settle more in the Middle East and Hell'll move him to France in order to... muck up the cheese industry, or something."

[clumsy_auror]

She flops into the arm chair and fixes her husband with a raised eyebrow. "Right. I could... certainly see that happening."

Her legs sling up over the arm, bare feet dangling, sparkly toes catching the light.

"But you're right about one thing. We don't know what might happen."

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Flipping onto his belly, he grabs her toes and tickles them a little.

"No. You could get pregnant with quadruplets tomorrow. And then we wouldn't have time to worry about Crowley."

[clumsy_auror]

Kicking gently, Nymphadora gives him a reluctant grin.

"Better knock on wood when you say stuff like that, boyo."

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

He grins despite himself.

"Four more strapping young men to wreak havoc on the entire multiverse."

[clumsy_auror]

A long, heart-felt groan. "The mere thought of four babies tapdancing on my bladder makes me want to run screaming into the night." She leans over to peck him briefly on the lips, and then stands again, carrying on with the tidying.

[the-woodpecker.livejournal.com]

Damn.

He settles into the couch for a moment, imagining it.

It would be fun.

But he'd be grey by 35.

"Well, it's a good thing you're breastfeeding, then, because I was thinking about christening Crowley's hutch."