Topic: Shades of Seattle

Victoria Granger

Date: 2012-07-05 12:17 EST
The arrangements for Jon's comfort while he was filming in Seattle had apparently been tweaked slightly when Trish had realised he was bringing his fiancee with him for the duration of the preparation and filming. Of course, Vicki was used to being put up in somewhat lower class hotels - cheap, clean, and functional. She wasn't used to the waterfront penthouse condominium they'd been directed to from the portal, wondering mildly if Jon had had anything to do with this choice of location.

Bemused, and yes, amused by the way Earth's paparazzi had flocked to take pictures of their darling Jon Granger's arrival in Seattle, she was slightly relieved that she'd taken 'Taya's advice about the jewellery. Mismatched and comfortable, at least Vicki had felt less underdressed than usual as she followed Jon into the waterfront building, laughing over the media bull pit that was already forming in celebration of his return to mainstream movies. Now, standing by the glass doors that opened onto a rooftop garden and balcony, she was still chuckling to herself. "And here I thought the great Jonathan Granger lived in mansions twenty-four seven," she teased, finally relinquishing her grip on her luggage.

The truth was that Jon had had very little to do with the housing arrangements. That had all been Trish, his agent, who had known him for years and knew his all his little quirks. Also knowing he didn't like crowds, she had arranged for a car to pick them up and whisk them away to the condo after a short photo session with the paparazzi, which Jon forced himself to endure. If this film was going to be a success, he was going to have to suck it up and do a little P.R. The ride to the condo was just long enough to give them both time to unwind from the media frenzy.

Once they and their bags were settled in the penthouse, Jon dropped onto the couch, tired but too wired to sleep. He glanced over at Vicki as she stood by the glass doors, framed by the Seattle skyline behind her, and he smiled. "I've never lived in a mansion." Granted, he had been spending weekends at Maple Grove of late, but he didn't really count that as living there, just yet.

"Well, you'd better get used to the idea, because I doubt you can call Maple Grove a large cottage to Humphrey's face," was his fiancee's grinning response as she shucked off shoes and jacket, moving to bend down over the back of the couch and smooth her hands over his chest, pressing her lips to his cheek. "I'm so proud of you, you know. You didn't once look like you wanted to feed any of those cameras to the gimps waving them around."

He covered her hands with one of his own, tilting his head back to look at her, pleased with her praise. He had never liked crowds of people, even before the shooting, though he wasn't sure why. They made him feel claustrophobic. Put him on a stage in front of a crowd and he was fine, but a crowd of buzzing journalists or rabid fans was quite another. "If this film does as well as Trish seems to think, we may have to hire security."

He frowned a little at that - at the thought of his pregnant wife having to walk around with a security guard at her side. He'd never really needed it before, or so he'd thought, but then he'd been shot. "Do you think this is a mistake?" he asked for the umpteenth time, frowning up at her, wondering if he was doing the right thing.

"Security doesn't need thinking about right now, and therefore doesn't need that face," Vicki informed him, sliding one hand free to smooth her fingertips against the lines on his brow. She twisted, climbing over the back of the couch to curl up beside him, hands moving to cradle his jaw. "Sweetheart, I love that you're so concerned about every little detail, but you need to let go of the things beyond your control," she reminded him gently. "You have made a commitment - one that I completely support, by the way - and worrying whether or not it's a mistake at this late hour will only affect your performance." She smiled lovingly, leaning close to touch a kiss to his lips. "Now get off your arse and unpack before everything you own turns into a wrinkled mess, and I'll investigate those takeout menus by the door."

Her gentle reassurance banished the frown from his face, and he returned her kiss, lifting a hand to tweak her nose. "I've heard no complaints from you about my performance." He grinned at his implied innuendo, reaching to curl his fingers around hers. "Are we staying in or going out?" he asked. There was an entire city to explore just outside their doorway, but there would be plenty of time for that later, and he was leaning toward a little quiet time alone with her before he started filming.

She laughed her familiar, less than innocent laugh at his innuendo, recognising all the signs that she had rubbed off on him irrefutably over the past months, her nose wrinkling under the tweak of his fingers. "Staying in," she said firmly, rolling her eyes. She'd travelled through portals between Earth and Rhy'Din several times with no ill-effect, but this time around, it had left her feeling a little shaky. Her assumption was that this was the first time she'd switched dimensions with a passenger on board, and that was the reason. "Definitely staying in."

He'd already had a fairly lewd sense of humor before he met her, even if he didn't remember it. "You okay?" he asked, his gaze lowering to her abdomen and the tiny life that was growing inside her, still hardly believing it was true. He had become accustomed to travelling back and forth through portals, but he wasn't sure how it might affect her now that she was with child. "I still can't believe we're having a baby," he said with undisguised wonder.

It never ceased to amaze her how Jon could guess at her moods, even the slightest change, and be spot on, even when she was trying not to let him see it. "I'm fine," she assured him softly with a faint grin. "I just want you all to myself for tonight, before everyone else demands your attention." Her fingers smoothed tenderly against his jaw as she touched the tip of her nose to his. "We have this huge condo to christen, after all."

He swept her hair back from her face, blue eyes shining, a smile on his face, as she touched the tip of her nose to his. He turned his head briefly to look around the penthouse, smirking mischievously as he turned back to her. "We're going to be here a while. We don't have to christen it all in one night," he reminded her, brushing a kiss against her lips.

"Hmm ....I'll try and contain myself," she chuckled back to him, returning his offered kiss with one of her own as her own fingertips dipped into his hair. "Of course, you're going to need a lot of practise to make sure that Christian Grey is completely in control of his libido." Her smile twinkled with mischievous amusement as she untangled herself from him. "Tell you what ....if there is food in the kitchen, I will cook. How's that for incentive?" Never mind that the last time she had tried to cook something, she had managed to set fire to her own hair.

Jon tried to hide a smirk at her suggestion, knowing how much she loved to cook. He had never complained about her cooking, but the truth remained that he was better in the kitchen than she was. "Should I call the fire department and tell them to be on alert?" he teased, bracing himself to get whacked. "What do you say we order out' We can have something delivered and eat on the terrace."

Vicki might love to cook, but she knew she was also pretty dire at it. She had, however, improved a vast amount under Jon's infinitely patient tutelage. His teasing brought a low laugh from her as she pulled herself up onto her feet. "Just for that, you get to make all the decisions about what and how we're eating tonight, mate," she snickered, ruffling at his hair. "I'm going to get your shirts hanging up, at least. We both hate ironing."

Victoria Granger

Date: 2012-07-05 12:20 EST
"Oh, I'm your mate now, am I?" he asked with another smirk. "Do you mean that in the English sense of the word or the American?" Of which he was neither. He was Rhy'Din born and bred, though his mother was American. He chuckled at the ruffling of his hair - the only person who was really allowed to touch the patented, insured Jon Granger curls - and followed her to his feet. "What do you feel like" I'm thinking pasta." He made his way to the kitchen and started poking around in the cupboards and fridge, pleased to find Trish had arranged to have the kitchen stocked.

"I thought you were ordering out?" she laughed back to him, dragging their luggage toward the bedroom she'd spied on the way in. It was just as well he wasn't seeing that; Vicki wasn't exactly being gentle with herself this evening, given the sheer weight of the bags she was manhandling through the condo. "Or have you forgotten already what happens when you cook and I'm handsy?"

It was definitely good he wasn't seeing that or he'd probably freak out. She was probably going to be in for a long nine months or so of coddling and fussing, once it actually sank in that she really was pregnant. He laughed as he started pulling things out of the cupboard and fridge, deciding on whipping up a little something himself. "Maybe that's what I'm counting on," he called back from the kitchen, the sound of him rummaging through cupboards and fridge accompanying his remark.

He backtracked to something she'd mentioned a few minutes ago about him needing to practice for the role, lifting his voice so she could hear him from the bedroom. "You realize filming a sex scene isn't exactly romantic or exciting." He knew she probably already knew this from watching him on the set of Crowes, but he did want her to think that meant anything more to him than a job.

More laughter wandered back to him from the bedroom. Vicki heaved Jon's main bag up onto the bed to flip it open and exhume his shirts, shaking them out one by one and hanging them to let gravity do its work on the wrinkles. "I suppose that really depends whether or not I finish doing this before you finish cooking," was her answer to his suggestion, before his reassurances made her smile again. She moved to the doorway of the bedroom, tilting her head to catch a glimpse of him in the kitchen. "Jon ....Aimee's sweet, but I'm feeling pretty confident that you're all mine these days," she said quite firmly. "Besides, I've got an on-set pass. I'll be sniggering into my hands while you're pounding away at her."

Jon furrowed his brows a moment, wondering what she was up to. She had mentioned hanging his clothes, but she wasn't doing that now, was she" Jon set the box of pasta down on the counter and poked his head out of the kitchen toward the direction of the bedroom, glancing then toward the living area and noticing his bag was missing. "Vicki, you didn't drag my bag in there, did you?" There was only one way to find out. Footsteps were heard heading that way. "Maybe I should have you banned from the set," he remarked, hands on hips as he glared down at her.

She'd already returned to her unpacking, not having even considered that hefting the heavy bags around wasn't something she should have been doing. Hearing Jon call to her, Vicki paused, looking toward the doorway as she hung yet another shirt in the closet. "You were expecting me to ferry your clothing one piece at a time from the living room?" she asked sweetly, deliberately mimicking his posture with hands on her own hips. Her head tipped back as she looked up at him with a grin. "What did I do?"

He blew out a slightly exasperated breath. "What am I going to do with you? All you had to do was ask." And it was too late to help now that she'd hauled his bag in there all by herself. He frowned at her, looking concerned. "You should be taking it easy." He stepped over and snatched up another shirt from his bag to hang it in the closet. In the meantime, dinner was on hold until he decided if he was cooking or hanging laundry.

Vicki's eyes, predictably enough, rolled as she laughed at his overprotective concern. "For goodness' sake, Jon, I'm not suddenly going to keel over just because you've packed one too many pairs of shoes," she protested, joining him by the bag to continue in her own manner unpacking his clothes. It was just as well he hadn't seen into her bag yet - the effort it had taken to get everything into one bag had been more than the effort to heave his main bag onto this bed. "I'm pregnant, not suddenly made of glass."

"I haven't packed one too many..." he snapped back defensively, before realizing she was being facetious. "Oh." There was that familiar concerned frown on his face again as he turned to her and pried whatever it was she had in her hands away from her. "Exactly. You're pregnant." He didn't look like he was going to give way on this one, but he couldn't unpack and cook at the same time. "Look, let's just go with the original plan. I'll unpack while you order out."

As stubborn as she was, Vicki knew when to give way. When Jon looked as though he was torn between pouting and scowling, then was the time to concede him a small victory and regroup to fight the battle another day. "Fine," she smiled, releasing the blazer as he tugged at it, stepping back to hold her hands up peaceably. "Just don't have a heart attack when you see my packing." Flashing him a smile, she rose onto her toes, sweetening the warning with a tender, slow kiss. "Pasta, was it?"

He smiled as all seemed to be forgiven and he got his own way, settling a hand against her hip as she pressed a kiss against his lips, only too happy to return that kiss. "Whatever you want," he conceded, not really caring all that much what they ate, so long as it was edible.

That was Jon's weakness when it came to battle lines drawn; he never noticed when Vicki was just stepping backwards to regroup. She stroked her fingers against his cheek, smiling as she moved toward the living room. "You really have to work on relaxing when you think I'm being an idiot, love," she chuckled, slipping out of sight to investigate the menus by the phone.

He smiled back, thinking he'd won this round, calling after her as she stepped out of the bedroom. "Don't touch that suitcase!" he warned, regarding her own suitcase. Once she was out of sight, he took up the task of unpacking his suitcase and hanging his things in the closet - shirts, pants, suits, mostly dress clothes, but some casual things, as well. Whatever he'd forgotten could easily be purchased here.

"Yes, O Master Of The Universe," she called back to him with a snicker of her own, flipping through the menus.

Jon had mentioned pasta, so pasta it was. He was very patient when it came to her fussy dietary preferences, but she knew he missed eating meat as regularly as he used to, for some reason believing that she would be offended by him eating what he wanted. Tucking the phone under her ear, she dialled the appropriate number, pulling her own card out of her wallet. He was probably going to complain when he found out she was paying for dinner out of her own pocket, but Vicki found Jon's blinkered view of her bank account funny.

Victoria Granger

Date: 2012-07-05 12:24 EST
Jon snickered at her choice of titles for him and called back, "And here I thought I was Master of the Bedroom!" It didn't take long before he had most of his things hung neatly in the closet. It wasn't any big secret that he was slightly OCD about his personal appearance, and that obsession extended to the care he took with his wardrobe. He smoothed out each piece before carefully and neatly hanging it, sorting the closet by type - pants, then shirts, then came sweaters, and finally the suits. "See if they can send over a bottle of wine with dinner." He paused a moment then as a thought occurred to him. "Can you drink wine when you're pregnant?"

Relaying this request for alcohol to the chatty woman who had answered the phone, Vicki didn't have a chance to answer Jon's concern herself. He'd been overheard, her laughter punctuating the assurances of the woman taking their order. "Really' Thank you very much, um ....Yes, thank you. Bye."

Putting the phone down, Vicki dissolved into giggles, finally managing to lift her voice to relay what she had just been told. "Apparently I'm allowed one small glass a day, according to the woman at Amante." Moving to the bedroom door, the redhead leaned in the doorway, blue eyes dragging over her fiance covetously. "And of course you're the Master of the Bedroom. Jon Granger is the God of Sex, remember?"

By the time she was done ordering dinner, he was just about finished unpacking his bag. One down, one to go. He'd taken off his jacket and hung that in the closet, as well, and was left in a cream-colored shirt, a few buttons open at the neck, and a pair of black trousers with matching black shoes. He zipped the bag back up, glancing over his shoulder at her as she reappeared in the doorway. "That makes you the Goddess of Sex, I believe," he grinned.

"Better make that the Fecund Goddess of Sex," she corrected teasingly, advancing through the room to curl her bare arms about his waist, leaning into him with the trusting fondness he'd never been without where his redhead was concerned. "Finished obsessing over how heavy your knickers are now?"

He turned in her arms to face her, sliding his hands against her sides and chuckling at her remark. "I'm not obsessing! Do you have any idea how much those knickers cost?" he smirked back at her. Fortunately for him, most of his clothes had been acquired through modeling gigs, people actually paying him to wear their designer label on and off the set. He smoothed his hands against her sides, wondering if they had time for a quickie before dinner arrived. "I was thinking we'd have dinner in the garden," he said, leaning in to brush his lips against her neck.

"Mmhmm, I looked some of them up on the 'net," she grinned, nipping at his jaw teasingly. One of Vicki's favorite things to do was wind Jon up to breaking point when he knew he didn't have enough time to play. She always made it up to him later, though. "Did you know that pair I cut off you a while back cost more than my car?" Her laugh eased off as his lips touched against her neck, her back arching in an undeniable indication of his successful counter-tease. "Sounds nice," she murmured against his ear, hands smoothing up his back tenderly.

While she might enjoy winding him up, he enjoyed just the opposite - relaxing her, knowing just where to kiss her to solicit the desired response. It was like coaxing a cat to purr. He swept her copper hair over a shoulder, his lips leaving a soft trail of kisses against her neck, as he guided her back toward the bed, almost daring her to stop him. He slid a ruffled sleeve down against her arm, fingers softly grazing her flesh.

She very nearly did purr as he coaxed and teased, her eyes falling closed to enjoy the feel of his lips on her skin, his hands stroking against her arms, sinking down onto the bed as a very soft moan made itself known. "Jon," she whined gently against his ear, one arm untangling itself from his back to curl her fingers into his hair. "The food'll be here soon ..."

"Hmmm?" he asked, obviously distracted. She'd wound him up; now she was going to have to settle him down. But maybe not until later. A hand trailed up her side, her shirt bunching upwards in his hand. He was hungry, but this was a different kind of hunger. He kissed her lips tenderly, sighing impatiently as he settled himself beside her, laying a hand protectively against the flat of her stomach. "February seems so far away," he said with a thoughtful frown.

Vicki wasn't exactly putting up much of a fight as Jon lay beside her, feeling the gentle urgency that had been rising easing away as his palm covered the smooth flatness of her stomach. Her own hand lowered to cover his as she smiled, lifting her eyes to his. "You getting impatient to see me fat now, stud-muffin?"

"Not fat. Pregnant. There's a difference," he replied, sliding his hand under her shirt, but only so that he could feel that much closer to the small life that was growing inside her. "Think it's a girl or a boy?" he asked, the hunger of the flesh slowly easing off, though he'd be sure to rekindle it later.

"Fat, pregnant, I'm still not going to be able to see my feet for a couple of months," Vicki chuckled, letting her hand fall from his as he smoothed her shirt upward. There was no sign yet of the growth in her womb, not even the most imperceptible mound under his palm. Yet. His quiet fascination with the prospect of fatherhood was enchanting to her, kindling her own warm curiosity toward the unknown person growing inside her. "I have no idea," she murmured quietly, watching his face as they spoke. "I hope it's a girl." She could imagine him with a daughter more easily than with a son.

Jon was full of wonder at this most recent development between them, finding the timing ironic, as he'd been considering asking if she'd like to start a family for a while. The trip back into her past, however, was what had sparked the most recent yearning for a child. He'd fallen in love with the childsize Vicki - the freckled nose, the eyes as blue as a summer sky, the bouncing copper-red curls, the smile that could light up the darkest, dullest day. Just thinking about having a daughter of their own - a child who would undoubtedly in his mind inherit the best of them both - brought a suspicious wetness to his eyes, tears of happiness once again. "I hope so, too," he quietly agreed. It wasn't that he didn't want a son, but the thought of having a daughter so like her mother and grandmother before her made his heart ache with longing.

The tears that sprang to his eyes brought a gentle smile to Vicki's face, her body rising on her elbows to caress a slow, tender kiss to his lips. "Boy or girl, I'm honored to be carrying your child, Jon," she promised him in a low whisper. "I just hope it doesn't change things between us too much. I love the way things are." Her hand curled to his cheek as she drew a second kiss to his lips, sighing in quiet disappointment when the chime of the doorbell rang through the apartment.

He was about to ask why she was worried about such a thing when her kiss and then the doorbell interrupted them, and he echoed her sigh. As hungry as he was and as much as he knew she needed to eat, especially now that she was eating for two, he was reluctant to interrupt the moment. "I'll get it," he volunteered, kissing her a third time before rolling off the bed to his feet, half-hoping the delivery person didn't recognize him.

Victoria Granger

Date: 2012-07-05 12:29 EST
If Vicki had known in advance that Jon was going to be slightly obsessive about doing everything right, she might have been a little more careful with her birth control. But then, he was allowed to be obsessive; it was his first child, their first child. As he rolled to his feet, she sat up, watching him walk away as she lowered her shirt over her stomach once again, slipping from the bed herself to head into the kitchen, seeking out plates and glasses.

Thankfully, the delivery boy either didn't recognize him, didn't care, or was used so used to making deliveries to famous personalities that it didn't phase him. Jon exchanged cash for food, along with a few pleasantries, gathered up the parcels, and took them to the kitchen. "Whatever you ordered smells great," he remarked as he set the parcels down on the counter and took a peek at the contents.

Vicki laughed softly, setting plates out on the counter as he came into sight again. "That should be rosemary chicken ravioli for you," she told him. "And eggplant parmesan for me. And the gelato is for later, so -" She smacked his hand lightly, taking that carton to put away for the time being.

He chuckled as she smacked his hand. "No dessert before dinner?" he asked, waggling his brows at the innuendo, pleased that she ordered him chicken, though he would have been perfectly happy with the eggplant. She had yet to completely convert him to vegetarianism, but he rarely complained. "I was thinking we could eat on the terrace. It should be cool this time of evening."

"I think that's a lovely idea," she agreed warmly, turning back to him with a brush of lips to his shoulder as her fingertips smoothed down his spine affectionately. "You can open the wine. I'm not going to make you lick it up off the floor again." Blue eyes sparkling with teasing laughter, she loaded her arms with plates, cutlery, and food, blowing him a kiss on her way past.

"Are you going to make me drink it from your shoe?" he teased, with a smirk and a gleam of blue eyes as he took up the wine bottle and a couple of glasses to follow her out onto the terrace.

Laughing aloud once again as her bare feet negotiated the soft carpet and out onto the cool masonry of the terrace, Vicki glanced over her shoulder with fond amusement. "This, from the man who declared my work boots to be a secret biological weapon developed by MI6 under the cover of 21twelve studios," she countered cheerfully, bending to unload her arms onto the table. A moment later, she straightened to look out over the view of the city skyline and waterfront. "That's a wonderful view."

"You know, I was in the running for Bond once," he remarked as he followed her outside into a perfect evening, high above the city, a refreshing breeze cooling down the heat of the day. "It is, isn't it?" He smiled fondly, as he set the wine glasses on the table and paused to enjoy the view, not only of the city, but of the lovely woman he was going to marry, the woman who was carrying his child, the woman whom he was convinced was his soul mate.

Copper red hair ruffled in the breeze across her shoulders, tickling over the bare skin of her arms as she sighed happily. As much as Vicki teased and fussed about wealth and spending more money than most people made in a year, she did enjoy the sense of being pampered that came with luxury surroundings. Realising Jon wasn't talking about the city view, she flushed faintly, sweetly touched by his unthinking compliment. "You, Mr Granger, are a hopeless romantic," she informed him with a chuckle, turning her attention back to serving the food onto their plates.

"Guilty as charged, Miss Marshall. Would you prefer I wasn't?" He smiled back, charmed by the blush that was so rarely seen in her. Ironic how such a small, innocent compliment could bring out a blush in her, when bawdy comments and behavior did not. He twisted the cap off the bottle of wine and filled two glasses, not spilling a drop. "I've been thinking..." he started, his eyes on the wine-pouring. Thinking was usually a good thing where Jon was concerned, but he was uncertain how Vicki might react to what he'd been thinking about.

"Oh, I wouldn't know what to do with you if you weren't a chronic sap," Vicki chuckled fondly, carefully portioning just enough food onto their plates to make a meal without overfacing either of them. She was a great believer in left-overs, after all. Her eyes turned toward him curiously as he poured out the wine, her body moving to lower down into a chair. "What have you been thinking?"

Once the wine was poured, he set the bottle down and took a seat across from her, the evening breeze blowing over them both, soft as a caress. He averted his gaze just long enough for her to know that he was feeling a little uncertain about what he was about to suggest. "I was just thinking that with you pregnant and all, maybe we shouldn't wait until October to get married." He chanced darting a glance at her, as if to gauge her reaction. "I know I promised you a big, white wedding and all, but..." He trailed off, frowning uncertainly.

"Jon." Vicki's smile was warm, but there was that matter-of-fact expression in her eyes that usually meant she was about to burst a little of his romantic bubble with a nod toward reality. "You promised me a lot of things I never actually agreed to, one of them being the big white wedding. Can you truly see me surviving a big formal event like that without offending someone?" She laughed softly, reaching across the table to smooth her fingers over his palm. "If you're about to suggest we elope as soon as possible, then I feel it's only fair I should warn you that I've already started researching how we could get married before going back to Rhy'Din." She flickered him a shy glance, not entirely sure how he was going to react to this.

His reaction to this was typically Jon - the arch of a single, surprised brow, a sigh of relief, and a small smile that turned up the corners of his mouth and dimpled his cheeks. His fingers curled around hers as he smiled fondly back at her. "Have you?" he asked, blue eyes shining. He'd thought he wanted a big, white wedding, but the trip through Vicki's past had changed him in ways even he hadn't yet comprehended. "What did you find out?"

Her smile shared a tenderly loving glance with him as he asked the inevitable question. "That there are several places we can get a special license and be married in the same day," she told him, gently sliding her hand from his to take up her fork and begin eating. "Everywhere from Gretna Green in Scotland, to Turtle Island. We would just have to decide when and where."

He studied her as she revealed what she'd learned, only a little surprised by this turn of events. After all, one of the reasons he loved her so much was the fact that they thought so much alike - almost as if they were made for each other. A match made in heaven, or so he thought. So, she didn't have her heart set on a big, public wedding, after all. He withdrew his hand to take up his fork and poke at his chicken, darting another glance her way as he changed taking the suggestion a step further. "What about Cornwall?" he asked, innocently enough.

Victoria Granger

Date: 2012-07-05 12:35 EST
"Cornwall?" Vicki paused in mid-chew, somehow utterly failing to connect the dots as they discussed the possibilities over dinner. "Well, I know you can apply for a special license from the English law courts, but I think Cornwall would depend on finding a place registered to perform weddings on such short notice. It's a very popular spot."

"What about a month or so from now?" he asked, as he skewered a bit of ravioli onto his fork, watching her as nonchalantly as possible from beneath lowered lashes, suddenly anxious to be married to the woman he loved and not wanting to wait any longer than was necessary. Hang the big family wedding. What he really wanted was a small, private, romantic affair away from the limelight.

Vicki suddenly went very still, her gaze fixed on her plate as his subtle hinting sank in. Very slowly, her eyes lifted to his, wet with unshed tears as her lips curved in an almost disbelieving smile. "Really?" She cleared her throat, fighting to blink away the ridiculously expressive moisture that blurred her vision for a moment. "You'd really want to .....so soon, and in ....in my home?"

He'd have married her months ago if she'd let him. He'd thought she'd been the one who wanted to wait and not rush into things, but he knew what he wanted and he knew he was ready. The trip into her past had only furthered his convictions. He noticed the suspicious wetness in her eyes and set his fork aside to reach for her hand.

"Vicki, I love you, and I'm still going to love you a month from now, a year from now, ten years from now. Nothing is going to change that, and I don't want to wait any longer. You've waited all your life for me. I'm yours. I'm always going to be yours. I want to make you my wife, and I want to do it there, where we first met."

It took a long moment for her Vicki to draw herself back under control. She wasn't usually so emotional - another thing to blame on the baby - but this was a special case. One thing she had never dared to promise her father was that she would get married in Cornwall, where he could give her away, no matter how large or small the gathering; she knew how much it would mean to him. And yes, she had been insisting on taking things slowly between herself and Jon, but from here on in, she had no prior knowledge, no hints from her past and his future to hold her back. Her hand turned in Jon's, fingers curling tight to his.

"On one condition," she said quietly, blue eyes meeting blue with a look of tender trust and impish amusement. "You get to tell my dad. And you get to ask him to book the church in Tresillian."

His smile widened at her conditions, blue eyes shining with happiness. He'd thought he'd loved her before taking the trip through her life, but those feelings paled in comparison to the love he felt for her now, the everlasting devotion. "That's two," he pointed out with a smirk. "He's not going to shoot me when he finds out he's going to be a grampa, is he?" He brought her hand to his lips for a brush of lips before giving it a gentle squeeze, settling their linked hands on the table between them.

She laughed softly, a single tear dripping from her eyelash to wet the table as he kissed her skin, sharing that squeeze with him tenderly. "He may kiss you, but I doubt he'll shoot you," she promised him with a warm smile, her food forgotten. "And he'd move hell or high water to get St Anthony's for us. It's where he married mum." Her voice broke a little, teeth finding purchase on her lower lip in an attempt to keep herself from crying happily. "Oh, this is ludicrous. I'm not a weepy person!"

He smiled, giving her hand another squeeze, having to force himself not to go to her on his knees and take her in his arms to kiss those tears away, but they were happy tears, and that was a good thing. All he really wanted to do was make her happy. He chuckled at her remark, the only thing dampening his happiness the lingering feeling of guilt at her mother's death. He'd not only witnessed it but been a part of it. "I wish I could have saved her for you. For him," he told her quietly, a hint of grief in his voice, despite the joyful circumstances.

"If you had, he wouldn't have Marie," Vicki pointed out softly. "She wouldn't have him. And I ....I don't think I would have come to Rhy'Din. I would never have met you, you would never have witnessed so much of my childhood." She drew in a long slow breath. "Everything happens for a reason, Jon. I had a wonderful childhood. And after one or two hiccups, I got to see my father put his grief away and fall in love again. I got to explore my world, and then go to somewhere I couldn't possibly have imagined. I got you. How many people are that blessed?"

He shrugged his shoulders, still frowning a little, not fully convinced. He understood what she was saying, but wasn't sure he agreed with it. Still, his own tragedy had somehow led to her, and he couldn't argue with that. "I love you so much, Vicki," he told her softly, his voice betraying his emotions, much like hers had only a moment before. He couldn't share the memories of his own childhood with her because he had none left to share. It was almost as if his first memories started with her and led to this very moment. "I'm the luckiest man alive."

"Well, of course you are, stud-muffin," she grinned, relieved that he had offered her some way to salvage herself from the serious moment with her own humor once again. "You're marrying me in all my umptilicious perfecty sexiness." Lifting his hand to her laughing lips, she kissed his knuckles lovingly before releasing him, returning to the food in front of her. "I'd eat up if I were you. You're going to need the energy."

"There's nothing wrong with shedding a few tears every now and then, you know. I've seen them before," he smiled in amusement, hinting at the past he'd only recently returned from. He allowed the serious moment to pass for now, letting her slip back into her usual and comfortable state of cheeky good humor. He watched as she kissed his knuckles, a feeling of warm affection bubbling up inside him, chuckling at her not so subtle warning. "Plan on having your way with me, Miss Marshall?" he asked as he took up his fork again.

"Do you really need to ask, Mr Granger?" she countered, her voice warm as she flickered a cheeky wink across the table to him, finally remembering the wine he had poured for them. She wasn't a big drinker as it was, and he knew it, hence the very small measure in her glass that grew a little smaller as she sipped. "I have every intention of keeping you up well past your bedtime."

He mirrored her grin, a hint of amusement dancing in eyes of blue. "So long as you don't leave me that way, or I might have to take it out on poor Aimee." It was an empty threat and they both knew it. While Aimee was cute in a youthful prodigy kind of way, she didn't hold a candle to Vicki, as far as he was concerned. "Is that a promise or a threat?" he asked, leaning forward, the fork dangling from one hand.

"Oh, it's definitely a promise," his fiery haired fiance replied sweetly, batting her lashes in an endearing tease as she whisked her hair out of her face, licking her lips clean. "I would never inflict you on poor little Aimee." Her smile widened to a wicked grin, blue eyes sparkling with playful invitation. "In fact, we may not even make it inside."

He arched a curious brow, feeling the first aches and twinges of arousal at her teasing, even as he pecked at his ravioli. "You, Miss Marshall, are a naughty girl." He grinned around a forkful of pasta, not realizing that in a way, he'd made her that way when she was sixteen.

She knew it for a fact, though. "I am what you made me," was her wickedly laughing response, the sound muffled by a fresh mouthful from her own fork, her free hand rising to rub lightly at her neck, unconsciously trailing fingertips down along the V of her neckline before lying back on the table. Her eyes locked to his from beneath those flirty lashes. "No one has ever made me feel the way you do, Jon-boy. Ever."

Victoria Granger

Date: 2012-07-05 12:42 EST
His eyes followed that trail of fingertips as they moved enticingly along her neck, feeling that swell of arousal at the thought of those fingertips trailing against his bare flesh, watching her almost as if he was entranced. He couldn't very well return the compliment as he didn't really remember anyone before her, but he knew the effect she had on him, and he knew he wanted no one else.

"Were you ever afraid I'd never fall in love with you?" he asked suddenly, out of the blue, remembering the last time she'd seen him before he'd returned to the present. They'd argued, their first and only real argument, but it had been short-lived, neither of them really wanting to hurt the other.

The tease in her eyes faded, paying him the courtesy of taking his question seriously, considering her memories before offering him the answer he already knew. "Yes," was the quiet, truthful response. "When you announced your engagement to Correy, I ....I nearly gave up. But you'd promised me, and I promised you, and I knew you'd show up at some point. I couldn't bear the thought of disappointing you that way." It had been hard, to see him so happily in love with Correy; harder still, to keep hoping, to keep holding onto the promise that she would be with him soon. "I'm glad I didn't give up."

"I don't remember any of that," he said, frowning. She already knew that, too, but he thought it bore repeating. The Jon before the shooting hadn't been the same Jon she'd fallen in love with, and he'd tried to tell her as much when he'd visited her past. "You never gave up on me," he said, with just a hint of wonder in his voice. How many had in the past' His father certainly, though he didn't remember it. "I'm sorry I put you through all that, but I've no regrets. I'm here with you because of everything that happened, and I wouldn't change a thing if it meant losing you."

Her smile softened, her gaze caressing his with the kind of intimacy only possible when two people knew each other inside out. "I think we should buy Dominic something spectacular as a thank you," she suggested, lowering her fork to her now empty plate. "Without his little potion, we wouldn't be here."

There was that frown again that his family assumed was angsty, but in reality, it was just his reluctance to hide what he was feeling, despite being an actor. "The only thing Dom would want is to have Gwen back," Jon told her sadly.

Vicki's own eyes clouded, saddened by the knowledge that he was completely right. The only thing his cousin would ever want would be the wife he had lost almost a full year ago; it was pretty much the only thing no one could give him. "We can't turn back the clock, no matter how much we want to."

"I know, but..." Jon paused a moment, saddened by Dom's loss, but knowing that life went on. "It took a long time, but your father found Marie. Maybe Dom will find someone else." He felt almost foolish suggesting it, knowing if anything were to happen to Vicki, he'd be devastated and wouldn't want anyone else, but he wasn't Dom and she wasn't Gwen.

"Maybe," she agreed quietly. And just as she did every time Jon was groping through sadness or pain, Vicki closed the distance between them, rising from her chair to stand beside him. Her arms curled about his head, drawing his ear to her belly, to rest over the womb where their child was growing. She bent, touching her lips to his hair. "Grief is a part of life, Jon," she murmured softly. "We'd be doing him a disservice if we tried to shorten his mourning."

He couldn't hear a second heartbeat, but somehow he knew another life was living inside there somewhere. A daughter, a son, maybe both. It didn't matter. A child of their own, a product of their love. He turned his head toward her, looking up into that freckled face that looked so like her mother, and he wondered how Gwen's death hadn't destroyed Dom, how he'd found the strength to go on. In that moment, Jon admitted his own deepest fear. "I don't want to lose you. I want to grow old with you."

Her fingers smoothed against his cheeks, tracing the much loved, well known lines of his face as she met his gaze, deeply moved by the very real terror in his eyes as he confessed his fear. Vicki had never lied to him; she was not about to start now. "Oh, love ..." she sighed softly, lowering into a crouch beside his chair, holding his gaze earnestly. "I can't promise that I'll be here with you until you're ready to let me go, anymore than you can make the same promise to me. But I can promise to make the time we have together the very best it can be."

He followed her with his eyes as she crouched down beside him, turning to face her as she did her best to reassure him. Nothing lasts forever, he knew, and that was sort of the whole point of wanting to get married as soon as possible, no more time wasted between them. He cupped her cheek lovingly with the palm of his hand, blue eyes serious and adamant. "Life is too short, Vicki. I don't want to waste a single moment."

One of her failings was not being able to stay in the moment if it was serious or solemn, no matter how much she should. Vicki's lips twitched, her smile stifled but not before it offered up a warning that she was about to change emotional gears again. ?"Well, then," she murmured playfully, "why are you taking so long to finish your dinner?"

To Jon, it wasn't a failing, as he was her exact opposite, often losing himself to a serious moment and unable to drag himself out without her help. In such a way, they were perfect for each other and always had been. "Impatient, are we?" he asked, sliding a hand up against her bare arm.

"Hmm, let me see ..." Her lips curved into a warm smirk as a faint shiver rippled through her under the trace of his hand against her skin. "Yes." Blunt and honest as ever, she moved to rise to her feet. "Especially since one of us has to get the dishwasher started before the residue turns into concrete," she added, bending to kiss the very tip of his nose with a grin. "Before anything else."

He pouted up at her practicality. He could care less about the dishes. He caught hold of her hand before she could go and pulled her back to draw her down into his lap. The sun was slowly going down, setting the sky on fire, not unlike the flames in his heart. "The dishes can wait," he told her matter-of-factly. He'd scrape them himself later if he had to.

Vicki laughed as he blocked her escape, knowing her practical side did annoy him from time to time. Drawn down onto his lap, however, she had no objection to being overruled this time, looping her arms around his neck as the sunlight slowly turned from gold to red, bathing them both in the last rays of the evening as her lips touched his. "Something tells me you can't wait, though," she teased impishly, nipping at his jaw as one hand smoothed down his chest once again, a thumb flicking a couple of buttons open in its wake.

He smiled, happy to have his way, or maybe this was what she'd wanted all along. He'd eaten enough to sustain him for a while, and there was plenty left for later, so long as they didn't wait too long to get it packed in the fridge. "I'm impatient when it comes to you," he admitted, his lips rekindling the fire he'd started in the bedroom before dinner had arrived, tracing her jaw to end with a nibble at her earlobe.

She was putty in his hands within moments, pliable to his whims as he reignited the smouldering desire she had banked away before their food had arrived. The speed with which that arousal rose shocked the breath from her lungs, her fingers curling through his hair as she shuddered in his arms, easing her palm beneath his shirt, over his heart once again. "Believe me," she breathed, tipping her head until her forehead touched his, eyes dark with promise, "I'm just as impatient for you."

"Then, what are we waiting for?" he asked, his heart beating steadily against the palm of her hand, pulse leaping with desire. Though they were high above the city and the prying eyes of onlookers, he wanted her all to himself, somewhere soft and comfortable where he could take his time with her, despite his impatience. He moved to his feet, easily scooping her up in his arms and carrying her back inside, back to the bedroom to finish what they'd started.

((Yup, Jon and Vicki are incommunicado on Earth for the next four weeks or so. Here's hoping they aren't brutally murdered by the Grangers when they return if they do manage to get married before getting home! Thanks to Jon's player, as always, for a brilliant scene!))