Lost in Boston
Jan. 4th, 2005 02:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lukon_ideinAhhhh, it has been a lovely couple of weeks traveling around seeing relatives and friends and completely not thinking about school, but now I must return to the Pit of Hell and it makes me very sad. And I have had time to contemplate my dire financial position, which doesn't improve my mood one bit. Also seem to be getting a sore throat, so clearly my immune system is down letting mopiness get the better of me all too easily. Could possibly be PMS too. Sigh. Why it is that I never write any entries when I'm happy? Well... I was kinda happy when praising my butter dish, but really I think I was just loopy.
Did just finish read an excellent book. Revelation by Carol Berg. It is the second of a trilogy (the first one, Transformation was awesome as well) so now I must acquire the third one as soon as possible or will go mad. Why do books do that to me? To many of us humans? I was good last night and went to bed at a reasonable hour determining to finish it in the morning, but I woke up at 3am thinking about the book, mind wandering in circles about what had happened already and what was likely to happen next. I finally had to give up trying to sleep and just read the damned thing. It was annoying as hell - I feel so weak-minded. But still, it's a great series. Strangely keeps showing up on lists of people's favorite gay-themed fantasy books, when none of the characters are actually gay. The narrator does develop a very intimate relationship with another male character but it is a spiritual intimacy and not a carnal one. I guess people just wish they'd slept together so they include it.
Sadly, my resolve to write more slashy goodness this vacation has so far gone unrealized. Was hoping to write some today as it is a carefree, lazy day but I'm too distracted still thinking about the book I just finished. In frustration I have decided to post as much of the follow-up to my first Remus x Bill story as is ready to go. I've been stuck on the sex scene for some reason. Can't decide whether I'm going to post it as a separate story or add it in to this story later. Not sure how much I like this story, which might be part of my reluctance to finish. It doesn't feel as well-constructed as the last one and there seems to be no actual purpose or theme to it. (Boy, do I sound pompous or what? Of course if you think this is bad, I have a letter from camp written when I was 9 that would kill you with laughter! So full of myself. Sigh.)
Well, here it is anyway. If you hate it, please tell me why so I can improve! Many thanks for reading, as always.
Title: Responsibilities
Author: Lukoni
Pairing: Remus Lupin/Bill Weasley
Rating: G? Possibly PG for flirting. :P
Warnings: None
Summary: Bill has given himself the task of lightening Remus's heart, but there are a few matters weighing down his own. Sequel to Convoluted Revolutions.
Bill walked slowly up the stairs towards his flat, the sound of Remus’s silver-tipped cane echoing hollowly off the marble. He was still molded comfortably to Remus’s side and could think of no other place he’d rather be. He still found it a bit hard to believe that he was bringing the werewolf home for a shag when just yesterday he’d been wondering for the thousandth time whether he had made a mistake in letting Fleur get away.
“So do you have any food at this hideaway of yours?” Remus asked. “If you haven’t been there in a while…”
“Oh, I think I can dig something up. I got very good at that in Egypt, you know. Digging things.” He ground his hip against his companion’s to emphasize his point. Flirting. That was what they were doing. It felt… nice. A return to normalcy of sorts.
These days since Voldemort’s defeat had been giddy for many, but at the Burrow it was solemn, losses they had been too occupied to feel before now weighing heavily in every corner. Percy dead before a reconciliation could be affected. Poor Ron, calmly accepting a fate he did not deserve, and resolutely not complaining at the stifling attentions his mother was lavishing on him. And Charlie. Oh dear Charlie. His closest brother in age and spirit. His absence was a hole in his heart that he was only beginning to truly realize.
The tension in his childhood home was becoming difficult to bear. More difficult for the fact that it had always been so happy there. He had seized upon the errand of retrieving Hedwig as a chance to get a little time to himself, never realizing he’d come across someone with just the opposite problem. Too much time to himself and no one to fuss over him.
“I see,” came Remus’s warm growl of a voice, rousing him from his reverie. “But I do hope you aren’t planning on feeding me mummies.”
“Oh no. Fresh out of mummies, I’m afraid. I do believe there are still some tasty jade scarabs and an ebony statue of Anubis.”
“Ahhh, sounds delicious.” They both laughed, and Bill felt foolishly proud to have brought a smile to the werewolf’s careworn face. He found himself looking forward to eliciting more than that very shortly.
Reaching the third landing at last, they turned down the corridor and were brought up short by the sight of a young man dozing on Bill’s threshold, one shoulder against the door, black smudges on his cheeks and faint traces of smoke wafting from the ends of charred locks of red hair. A coil of fear twined through his stomach as he stepped away from Remus and toward his brother.
“Fred?”
“George….” he muttered automatically. Then his eyes snapped open. “BILL??” The man leapt to his feet. “Where the bloody hell have you been?! Mum’s been frantic!”
Bill turned pale and cursed under his breath. How could he have been so stupid? But a flash of guilt warned him he had willfully stayed away from the Burrow, glad to be free of it and all its unhappiness for just one night.
“Yes, CHRIST, man. The clock’s had you down as ‘traveling’ for bloody hours! And for fuck’s sake, what have you done to your flat? It’s harder to get into than Gringotts”
“Sorry, mate. Those ancient wards pack a bit of a punch..” George just snorted and rubbed his temple ruefully.
A quiet cough came from behind them. “Perhaps this is not the best time. I should go, I think.”
Bill whirled around, and found Remus, with his polite mask firmly back in place, a few paces closer to the stairs than he’d left him. Bill almost groaned in frustration. The man was so damned hard reach and even harder, it seemed, to hold onto.
“Hullo, Professor,” George chimed in.
“Hello George.” Warm and sincere and distant and appropriate and completely devoid of the real Remus. The one who had just revealed such depths of weariness, bitterness, loneliness, strength, humour, passion. That Remus was trying to get away.
“Oh NO you don’t,” Bill said, pointing an accusing finger at the retreating figure. “We’ll have none of that. You are to stay here and make yourself at home and eat as many artifacts as you can find and I will be back as soon as I can.” Remus began to shake his head, but George interrupted again.
“Bill, Mum is going mental. Let’s go!”
“All right, all right.” Bill pulled out his wand, toyed with the idea casting a sleeping spell on his pestering brother, then turned to face the door. Darting glances at Remus, he quickly traced a series of hieroglyphs in the air and muttered several commands that George strained to hear. He found himself strangely desperate not to let Remus slip away, unable to shake the conviction that if he did, no one would ever see the werewolf again. Just like Charlie. The door opened and Bill swooped down on the clearly reluctant Remus, guiding him inside, saying anything that came to his mind to keep him there.
“Make yourself at home. Help yourself to a shower and of course the enormous bed. (Fleur was such a space hog.) Don’t try to go anywhere if you want to avoid a good singeing. The wards’ll reset themselves as soon as I leave. Floo’s off network, too, right now, so don’t try it. I’ll be back right away, I promise.” Remus still seemed ready to protest, so Bill looked at him sternly, eyes sparkling with mischief, and raised his wand. “Consider yourself my prisoner, Mr. Lupin,” he intoned ominously and just had time to see Remus relax into a chuckle and call out “Yes, sir” before the door snapped shut.
He sighed with relief and turned to George. “All right, let’s go.”
“What was that all about?”
“Nothing.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I’ll tell you later, all right? Let’s get back home first.”
“You go ahead – not sure I want to witness your murder. I’ll go by and pick up Fred. He’s been staking out Grimmauld Place.” With a loud crack, George was gone.
Giving a thought to his neighbors, Bill ran down the stairs and disapparated from the back garden.
†◊†◊†◊†◊†◊†
He arrived in the front garden of the Burrow and went quickly but quietly inside. Molly Weasley was sitting on the sofa watching the clock, eyes rimmed red from recent tears. Bill automatically glanced at it, checking to see if there was any change with Charlie, but it was the same as it had been for the last eight months, the hand just slowly making its way around the face, never stopping at any one position, not even mortal peril. He let the usual disappointment sink in his stomach and stepped closer, bracing himself for his mother’s patented Howler Voice.
“Mum?” She turned to look at him with such a forlorn expression in her eyes that he felt tears rise in his own.
“Oh Bill, how could you?” she whispered. And Bill discovered there was something even worse than the Howler Voice. He was at her side and embracing her in an instant.
“I’m sorry, Mum, I’m SO sorry.” He held her tight and stroked her back as she dissolved in tears on his shoulder. It must be the night for it, he thought ruefully.
“You’ve… been… traveling... for… hours…” she managed to get out between sobs. His eyes went once more to the clock as he watched Charlie pass by their father at the “Office” and continue his inexorable journey to nowhere.
“I know, luv, I know. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. It was stupid of me. I’m so sorry.” He rocked her a little as he nursed his guilt. He was the oldest. He should be the responsible one. Perhaps he’d left that to Percy once they had discovered his aptitude for it. But it was no excuse for frightening his mother to an early grave. That was the twins’ job.
Fred and George came silently in from the garden, glared at him and disappeared upstairs. He hugged his mother tighter.
“First Charlie…..” she sniffled, “then you… stuck on travel… oh Bill…”
“Shhhhh. I’m sorry, Mum. I just…. I just… there’s no excuse, really. I was an idiot.” She shuddered and he began to rub her back, still rocking ever so slightly.
“I love you,” she said at last giving him a squeeze then pulling back. “I love you so much, you know.” Bill looked at his feet, feeling more ashamed than if she had yelled at him. “We mothers aren’t supposed to have favorites, and I don’t, really, but… but you’re my oldest and I’ll always feel… something different…. something extra for you.”
Bill felt like dirt.
“Now don’t look like that. I’ll be all right. Just being silly, thinking my fully grown son can’t take care of himself in a world finally free of… You Know Who.” She sniffled again and tried to laugh through it.
“I’m sorry, Mum,” he said in a small voice.
“Bill, I know I’ve been… things have been hard around here lately. It’s been hard on all of us. Maybe you should get away for a few days?”
Bill studied his hands guiltily, wondering if becoming a mother made one an automatic master of legilimency. She put her arm around his shoulders and guided him backward so they were both resting comfortably against the back of the sofa.
“Now,” she said with what was much more her usual voice, “perhaps you should tell me where you’ve been all this time? You haven’t been wandering the countryside looking for Fleur, have you?” That brought a smile to Bill’s lips which quickly turned sad as recalled where he had been.
“What is it, Bill?”
“It was Remus, Mum.”
“Remus?” That name never failed to rouse her motherly instincts. “What’s wrong? Is he hurt?”
“No, no! Nothing like that,” he said allaying her fears. “He’s just… at loose ends, I suppose you’d say.” She sighed and rested her head on Bill’s shoulder.
“That poor dear. He’s had a hard life.”
“I’m so lucky to have you, Mum.”
“Yes, you are. Now spill. Where have you been all this time?”
“With Remus. He … he came back to Grimmauld Place when I was there, but he didn’t come in. Just sort of stared at it for a while then left. So I followed him.”
“Where was he going?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure he really knew, just as long as it was away from that house.”
“I can’t say that I blame him. But why didn’t he come here if he needed a place to stay?”
“Would you want to stay here right now, Mum?”
“I suppose he thought he’d be a burden, but he wouldn’t. We’d be happy to have him. I’ve always thought he needed looking after.” Bill chuckled, glad to see his mother back in full maternal mode. He wondered briefly what she would say if he explained that he wanted to look after Remus with some rather personal attention. No, she was definitely not ready to hear that. He’d leave that for another day.
“I think he just needed some time to himself… somewhere not full of bad memories. I offered to let him to stay in my flat.”
“Your flat? You haven’t been there in months! It’s probably full of spiders and boggarts. And I’m sure there’s no food. Bill! What were you thinking?”
“Mum!” he protested, then laughed. “It’s not full of Boggarts. It’s fine. But I thought it might be better for him to be away from… grief for a while. Around here it’s a bit…”
“Like a tomb?” she supplied. Bill raised his eyebrows in surprise that she would admit to it, but nodded his head in agreement.
“I am sorry, Mum. I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”
“I know, dear. Just don’t do it again.”
“I won’t.” Neither knew what to say to this and they sat quietly for a while, listening to the sounds of the world waking up outside. At length Molly finally broke the silence.
“He wasn’t going to do anything… stupid, was he?” Bill, caught off guard once again by his mother’s perception, didn’t deny it. He had no right to go telling tales on Remus, but he couldn’t insult her intelligence either.
“I don’t know, Mum,” he murmured. “I thought that I should … just make sure, was all.” She sighed and gave him one last squeeze before standing up.
“Come on, then. You’d better get back to him in that case. I’ll pack you some food.” Bill allowed his surprise to show on his face and she laughed. “He’s a tough nut to crack. You’ll need provisions.” Bill followed her into the kitchen, hoping she hadn’t noticed his blush. She may approve of his goal but perhaps not his method for cracking this particular nut.
Did just finish read an excellent book. Revelation by Carol Berg. It is the second of a trilogy (the first one, Transformation was awesome as well) so now I must acquire the third one as soon as possible or will go mad. Why do books do that to me? To many of us humans? I was good last night and went to bed at a reasonable hour determining to finish it in the morning, but I woke up at 3am thinking about the book, mind wandering in circles about what had happened already and what was likely to happen next. I finally had to give up trying to sleep and just read the damned thing. It was annoying as hell - I feel so weak-minded. But still, it's a great series. Strangely keeps showing up on lists of people's favorite gay-themed fantasy books, when none of the characters are actually gay. The narrator does develop a very intimate relationship with another male character but it is a spiritual intimacy and not a carnal one. I guess people just wish they'd slept together so they include it.
Sadly, my resolve to write more slashy goodness this vacation has so far gone unrealized. Was hoping to write some today as it is a carefree, lazy day but I'm too distracted still thinking about the book I just finished. In frustration I have decided to post as much of the follow-up to my first Remus x Bill story as is ready to go. I've been stuck on the sex scene for some reason. Can't decide whether I'm going to post it as a separate story or add it in to this story later. Not sure how much I like this story, which might be part of my reluctance to finish. It doesn't feel as well-constructed as the last one and there seems to be no actual purpose or theme to it. (Boy, do I sound pompous or what? Of course if you think this is bad, I have a letter from camp written when I was 9 that would kill you with laughter! So full of myself. Sigh.)
Well, here it is anyway. If you hate it, please tell me why so I can improve! Many thanks for reading, as always.
Title: Responsibilities
Author: Lukoni
Pairing: Remus Lupin/Bill Weasley
Rating: G? Possibly PG for flirting. :P
Warnings: None
Summary: Bill has given himself the task of lightening Remus's heart, but there are a few matters weighing down his own. Sequel to Convoluted Revolutions.
Bill walked slowly up the stairs towards his flat, the sound of Remus’s silver-tipped cane echoing hollowly off the marble. He was still molded comfortably to Remus’s side and could think of no other place he’d rather be. He still found it a bit hard to believe that he was bringing the werewolf home for a shag when just yesterday he’d been wondering for the thousandth time whether he had made a mistake in letting Fleur get away.
“So do you have any food at this hideaway of yours?” Remus asked. “If you haven’t been there in a while…”
“Oh, I think I can dig something up. I got very good at that in Egypt, you know. Digging things.” He ground his hip against his companion’s to emphasize his point. Flirting. That was what they were doing. It felt… nice. A return to normalcy of sorts.
These days since Voldemort’s defeat had been giddy for many, but at the Burrow it was solemn, losses they had been too occupied to feel before now weighing heavily in every corner. Percy dead before a reconciliation could be affected. Poor Ron, calmly accepting a fate he did not deserve, and resolutely not complaining at the stifling attentions his mother was lavishing on him. And Charlie. Oh dear Charlie. His closest brother in age and spirit. His absence was a hole in his heart that he was only beginning to truly realize.
The tension in his childhood home was becoming difficult to bear. More difficult for the fact that it had always been so happy there. He had seized upon the errand of retrieving Hedwig as a chance to get a little time to himself, never realizing he’d come across someone with just the opposite problem. Too much time to himself and no one to fuss over him.
“I see,” came Remus’s warm growl of a voice, rousing him from his reverie. “But I do hope you aren’t planning on feeding me mummies.”
“Oh no. Fresh out of mummies, I’m afraid. I do believe there are still some tasty jade scarabs and an ebony statue of Anubis.”
“Ahhh, sounds delicious.” They both laughed, and Bill felt foolishly proud to have brought a smile to the werewolf’s careworn face. He found himself looking forward to eliciting more than that very shortly.
Reaching the third landing at last, they turned down the corridor and were brought up short by the sight of a young man dozing on Bill’s threshold, one shoulder against the door, black smudges on his cheeks and faint traces of smoke wafting from the ends of charred locks of red hair. A coil of fear twined through his stomach as he stepped away from Remus and toward his brother.
“Fred?”
“George….” he muttered automatically. Then his eyes snapped open. “BILL??” The man leapt to his feet. “Where the bloody hell have you been?! Mum’s been frantic!”
Bill turned pale and cursed under his breath. How could he have been so stupid? But a flash of guilt warned him he had willfully stayed away from the Burrow, glad to be free of it and all its unhappiness for just one night.
“Yes, CHRIST, man. The clock’s had you down as ‘traveling’ for bloody hours! And for fuck’s sake, what have you done to your flat? It’s harder to get into than Gringotts”
“Sorry, mate. Those ancient wards pack a bit of a punch..” George just snorted and rubbed his temple ruefully.
A quiet cough came from behind them. “Perhaps this is not the best time. I should go, I think.”
Bill whirled around, and found Remus, with his polite mask firmly back in place, a few paces closer to the stairs than he’d left him. Bill almost groaned in frustration. The man was so damned hard reach and even harder, it seemed, to hold onto.
“Hullo, Professor,” George chimed in.
“Hello George.” Warm and sincere and distant and appropriate and completely devoid of the real Remus. The one who had just revealed such depths of weariness, bitterness, loneliness, strength, humour, passion. That Remus was trying to get away.
“Oh NO you don’t,” Bill said, pointing an accusing finger at the retreating figure. “We’ll have none of that. You are to stay here and make yourself at home and eat as many artifacts as you can find and I will be back as soon as I can.” Remus began to shake his head, but George interrupted again.
“Bill, Mum is going mental. Let’s go!”
“All right, all right.” Bill pulled out his wand, toyed with the idea casting a sleeping spell on his pestering brother, then turned to face the door. Darting glances at Remus, he quickly traced a series of hieroglyphs in the air and muttered several commands that George strained to hear. He found himself strangely desperate not to let Remus slip away, unable to shake the conviction that if he did, no one would ever see the werewolf again. Just like Charlie. The door opened and Bill swooped down on the clearly reluctant Remus, guiding him inside, saying anything that came to his mind to keep him there.
“Make yourself at home. Help yourself to a shower and of course the enormous bed. (Fleur was such a space hog.) Don’t try to go anywhere if you want to avoid a good singeing. The wards’ll reset themselves as soon as I leave. Floo’s off network, too, right now, so don’t try it. I’ll be back right away, I promise.” Remus still seemed ready to protest, so Bill looked at him sternly, eyes sparkling with mischief, and raised his wand. “Consider yourself my prisoner, Mr. Lupin,” he intoned ominously and just had time to see Remus relax into a chuckle and call out “Yes, sir” before the door snapped shut.
He sighed with relief and turned to George. “All right, let’s go.”
“What was that all about?”
“Nothing.”
“Yeah, right.”
“I’ll tell you later, all right? Let’s get back home first.”
“You go ahead – not sure I want to witness your murder. I’ll go by and pick up Fred. He’s been staking out Grimmauld Place.” With a loud crack, George was gone.
Giving a thought to his neighbors, Bill ran down the stairs and disapparated from the back garden.
†◊†◊†◊†◊†◊†
He arrived in the front garden of the Burrow and went quickly but quietly inside. Molly Weasley was sitting on the sofa watching the clock, eyes rimmed red from recent tears. Bill automatically glanced at it, checking to see if there was any change with Charlie, but it was the same as it had been for the last eight months, the hand just slowly making its way around the face, never stopping at any one position, not even mortal peril. He let the usual disappointment sink in his stomach and stepped closer, bracing himself for his mother’s patented Howler Voice.
“Mum?” She turned to look at him with such a forlorn expression in her eyes that he felt tears rise in his own.
“Oh Bill, how could you?” she whispered. And Bill discovered there was something even worse than the Howler Voice. He was at her side and embracing her in an instant.
“I’m sorry, Mum, I’m SO sorry.” He held her tight and stroked her back as she dissolved in tears on his shoulder. It must be the night for it, he thought ruefully.
“You’ve… been… traveling... for… hours…” she managed to get out between sobs. His eyes went once more to the clock as he watched Charlie pass by their father at the “Office” and continue his inexorable journey to nowhere.
“I know, luv, I know. I’m sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking. It was stupid of me. I’m so sorry.” He rocked her a little as he nursed his guilt. He was the oldest. He should be the responsible one. Perhaps he’d left that to Percy once they had discovered his aptitude for it. But it was no excuse for frightening his mother to an early grave. That was the twins’ job.
Fred and George came silently in from the garden, glared at him and disappeared upstairs. He hugged his mother tighter.
“First Charlie…..” she sniffled, “then you… stuck on travel… oh Bill…”
“Shhhhh. I’m sorry, Mum. I just…. I just… there’s no excuse, really. I was an idiot.” She shuddered and he began to rub her back, still rocking ever so slightly.
“I love you,” she said at last giving him a squeeze then pulling back. “I love you so much, you know.” Bill looked at his feet, feeling more ashamed than if she had yelled at him. “We mothers aren’t supposed to have favorites, and I don’t, really, but… but you’re my oldest and I’ll always feel… something different…. something extra for you.”
Bill felt like dirt.
“Now don’t look like that. I’ll be all right. Just being silly, thinking my fully grown son can’t take care of himself in a world finally free of… You Know Who.” She sniffled again and tried to laugh through it.
“I’m sorry, Mum,” he said in a small voice.
“Bill, I know I’ve been… things have been hard around here lately. It’s been hard on all of us. Maybe you should get away for a few days?”
Bill studied his hands guiltily, wondering if becoming a mother made one an automatic master of legilimency. She put her arm around his shoulders and guided him backward so they were both resting comfortably against the back of the sofa.
“Now,” she said with what was much more her usual voice, “perhaps you should tell me where you’ve been all this time? You haven’t been wandering the countryside looking for Fleur, have you?” That brought a smile to Bill’s lips which quickly turned sad as recalled where he had been.
“What is it, Bill?”
“It was Remus, Mum.”
“Remus?” That name never failed to rouse her motherly instincts. “What’s wrong? Is he hurt?”
“No, no! Nothing like that,” he said allaying her fears. “He’s just… at loose ends, I suppose you’d say.” She sighed and rested her head on Bill’s shoulder.
“That poor dear. He’s had a hard life.”
“I’m so lucky to have you, Mum.”
“Yes, you are. Now spill. Where have you been all this time?”
“With Remus. He … he came back to Grimmauld Place when I was there, but he didn’t come in. Just sort of stared at it for a while then left. So I followed him.”
“Where was he going?”
“I don’t know. I’m not sure he really knew, just as long as it was away from that house.”
“I can’t say that I blame him. But why didn’t he come here if he needed a place to stay?”
“Would you want to stay here right now, Mum?”
“I suppose he thought he’d be a burden, but he wouldn’t. We’d be happy to have him. I’ve always thought he needed looking after.” Bill chuckled, glad to see his mother back in full maternal mode. He wondered briefly what she would say if he explained that he wanted to look after Remus with some rather personal attention. No, she was definitely not ready to hear that. He’d leave that for another day.
“I think he just needed some time to himself… somewhere not full of bad memories. I offered to let him to stay in my flat.”
“Your flat? You haven’t been there in months! It’s probably full of spiders and boggarts. And I’m sure there’s no food. Bill! What were you thinking?”
“Mum!” he protested, then laughed. “It’s not full of Boggarts. It’s fine. But I thought it might be better for him to be away from… grief for a while. Around here it’s a bit…”
“Like a tomb?” she supplied. Bill raised his eyebrows in surprise that she would admit to it, but nodded his head in agreement.
“I am sorry, Mum. I didn’t mean to scare you like that.”
“I know, dear. Just don’t do it again.”
“I won’t.” Neither knew what to say to this and they sat quietly for a while, listening to the sounds of the world waking up outside. At length Molly finally broke the silence.
“He wasn’t going to do anything… stupid, was he?” Bill, caught off guard once again by his mother’s perception, didn’t deny it. He had no right to go telling tales on Remus, but he couldn’t insult her intelligence either.
“I don’t know, Mum,” he murmured. “I thought that I should … just make sure, was all.” She sighed and gave him one last squeeze before standing up.
“Come on, then. You’d better get back to him in that case. I’ll pack you some food.” Bill allowed his surprise to show on his face and she laughed. “He’s a tough nut to crack. You’ll need provisions.” Bill followed her into the kitchen, hoping she hadn’t noticed his blush. She may approve of his goal but perhaps not his method for cracking this particular nut.
Nutcracker? Sweet!
on 2005-01-05 06:40 pm (UTC)Re: Nutcracker? Sweet!
on 2005-01-10 05:15 am (UTC)