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Tweak says, "He vas my BOYFRIEND."

William Arthur Weasley (bl_bill) wrote in bloodlines_rp,
@ 2009-12-29 09:47:00

Entry tags:

bill weasley, feb 2003, fleur weasley, loc: shell cottage, type: rp

Out of Hiding
Date & Time: 28 February 2003 | RP
Post Type: RP
Status: Closed: Complete
Character(s): Bill Weasley, Fleur Weasley
Location: Shell Cottage
Summary: Bill's out of town work is complete. He has nowhere to go but home.

Bill grabbed for his ponytail for the hundredth time and once again found it gone. Gone. It had been impulsive--cutting his hair off--and if Bill Weasley was anything, he wasn't impulsive. But it seemed freeing at the time. Foolish but freeing. He had naively hoped cutting his hair might also help to release some of the less attractive thoughts he'd been harbouring for weeks now. Or was it months?

Months.

He wanted to move forward without the feel of chains around his ankles, and yet he clutched them like a beloved pet. Held on without reason except for some excuse to latch on to. An excuse for why he wasn't progressing, for why he was trapped within his own bitterness, guilt, and jealousy.

He stepped through the Floo and carried his bags toward their bedroom. Now that his job was finished, he wouldn't have anywhere to disappear to when he felt particularly angry or bitter. He didn't want Fleur to see who he had become. He didn't want her to truly know how unfair he believed their lives had become. Charlie had a child he didn't know about, and Bill and Fleur wanted bloody children and had none. None. He was a failure.

Bill didn't expect Fleur to be home from work, but when he walked into the bedroom, she was bent over cleaning something from the floor. "Fleur?" he said. "Hey, I didn't think you'd be here." He dropped the bags on the bed. "Is everything okay?" Had something else gone wrong?

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bl_bill
2009-12-29 05:23 pm UTC (link)

Bill watched her adjust the curtains and smiled. She was always so careful to make sure their home was a lovely, healthy place. He hoped his being home again wouldn't bugger it all up. He would try and act normal for her. She didn't deserve additional heartache, and he didn't deserve her. "Yes," he said. "Home to stay." For better or for worse. "I brought you some trinkets and a set of spices. I thought you might like to cook something different with them. But I can show you once I'm cleaned up. I feel like a pile of rubbish."

Bill took a step backward, startled by her quick approach. "What is it?" he blurted, but once her hand was in his hair, his face fell. "Oh, bugger it," he grumbled, scrubbing his palm back and forth across his hair. "I cut it. This morning. I--do you hate it?" he asked. Merlin, he hadn't even thought she might.

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bl_fleur
2009-12-29 05:58 pm UTC (link)

Fleur barely registered that Bill had brought her anything back from his travels. She was too shocked at his haircut to concentrate on anything else for the moment. He fidgeted under her gaze, but she didn't look away. His hair had been long ever since she'd known him. To see it cut off to a 'normal' length threw off her senses. He didn't look like her husband. And yet....

She ran her fingertips through the hair at his temple, then down his scarred cheek, looking over him. It was different, yes, but it wasn't bad. And certainly not the biggest change he'd ever had in his appearance. She brushed her lips over his cheek, and then, rather on a whim, across his lips. "I think you are quite as 'andsome as always.

"And your mother will be 'appy," Fleur said, one side of her mouth twitching upward in amusement. Molly had always wanted Bill to cut off his hair, though Fleur sometimes wondered how much was true desire and how much it was simply a running joke for the two. Still, she thought her mother-in-law would probably like the change.

Pulling back, she smiled and nodded at him. "Go and clean up. I will make some lunch for us."

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bl_bill
2009-12-29 06:13 pm UTC (link)

Bill fought not to reach out to Fleur when she stood so close. Her fingers on his face caused him to inhale a deep breath. His lungs pulled in the scent of her and his desire and control shuffled together into a messy heap in his chest. She brushed her lips across his, and instinctively he put his arm around her, resting his hand on her lower back. Beautiful. That's what he thought when he looked at Fleur. Lucky always followed that thought. How could a creature so beautiful want a mangled mutt like him?

He wanted to kiss her hard, to toss her on the bed like a rogue, but he was dirty, and he didn't fancy her thinking he smelled like a common Krup. He smiled at her. "I'm sure she'll have something to say." He nodded when she said he should wash while she cooked lunch.

After jumping in the shower and putting on a clean pair of slacks and a shirt, he found Fleur in the kitchen. He put the few gifts, along with the spices, on the kitchen table, he reached for his ponytail again, then settled for crossing his arms over his chest. "Smells good," he said, watching her arse sway as she worked with her back to him.

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bl_fleur
2009-12-29 06:44 pm UTC (link)

Fleur glanced back at Bill as she left the room, warring with herself. That he was really home to stay seemed too good to be true, and she was almost afraid to leave her side for fear that he'd disappear again. It was silly, she knew, because even over the last few months, she had seen him. It wasn't like before, when he'd been at Shell Cottage and she'd been France. Perhaps it wasn't simply that he might disappear again, but rather that the things his return promised might not happen as she hoped.

Once in the kitchen, she leaned against the worktop and closed her eyes, then took a few slow breaths. It wouldn't do to get ahead of herself, of them. She needed to simply be happy he was home and let the rest work itself out. After a moment, she set about preparing something simple for lunch. Hearty, as Bill had worked that morning, and enough to keep her from being idle waiting on him, but simple nonetheless. They had better things to do than clean too many dishes after lunch.

This time when Bill came into the room, it didn't startle Fleur as before. She'd been half-listening for his footsteps the whole time, and her chest clenched at his voice. Mentally chastising herself for being so ridiculous, she turned and smiled at him. "It is just soup. Potatoes and cream." Turning back to the pot, she reached for her spoon and gave it a stir. Her mind was racing with things she wanted to say, but none of them seemed fitting at the moment. "Can you set bowls on the table? And I believe there is still a bit of bread in the cupboard, if you would like."

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bl_bill
2009-12-29 06:58 pm UTC (link)

"My favourite soup," he said with a slow smile. Bill wasn't a picky eater, and he ate everything Fleur cooked. Even if the recipe wasn't something he would have chosen, he still ate it and appreciated the work she put into the preparations.

"Of course," he said. He grabbed two bowls--some they'd purchased in France from a local potter--and pulled two spoons from the drawer. He found the bread in the cupboard, and he put the half loaf on the table as well. He walked to the fridge and cut his eyes over at his wife. "What would you like to drink?" he asked, opening the door and finding it looked a bit bare. The idea that he wasn't around to buy for filled him with guilt yet again. But their lives were changing now. He would be home. The refrigerator would have food. "Looks like we have pumpkin juice and a wine bottle I think we opened two weeks ago." He stood and grinned at her. Perhaps he should buy a bottle of wine for dinner. They could-- Talk? Don't be an idiot.

"How have you been?" he asked. He'd seen her two days before, but still, something could have happened.

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bl_fleur
2009-12-29 09:04 pm UTC (link)

"Just water, please." Fleur turned off the hob and ladled a bit into each of the bowls, then replaced the pot on the worktop.

Her eyes kept drifting to Bill as they worked around one another. His haircut was such a tiny thing, but she still kept expecting to see a mass of damp hair hanging down onto his shoulder, when instead it was cropped close to his head. It didn't lessen her usual urge to run her fingers through it, though, and she allowed herself just once to caress the back of his head as she passed, bringing a pat of butter to the table.

"I've been well," she answered automatically, still standing next to the table. And it was the truth--she was healthy, safe, and not unhappy. Work had been pleasant enough, and she'd kept herself occupied in the evenings with chores, reading, and a visit to Madam Malkin's the previous evening. Her answer still felt false, though, and she couldn't leave it at that. She spoke slowly, careful to pronounce every word so that she could not be misunderstood. "I have...missed you, though, Bill. I am happy you're home."

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bl_bill
2009-12-29 09:22 pm UTC (link)

Bill filled a glass with water and poured the remainder of the pumpkin juice into his glass. Fleur's fingers on the nape of his neck made him falter and nearly pour juice onto the counter. Her touch still did something to him. He only wished touching Fleur wasn't attached to such anxiety and so many questions...Why can't I give you children? Why do I sometimes refuse to give into my desire? Why do I distance myself from you? Refuse to discuss what's really going on?

He sat and stirred his soup. He looked at her when she spoke. Bill reached for her hand, cataloging the way her words filled him with warmth and regret. "I missed you, too," he said. In so many ways. "I'm glad to be home again. I can finally finish that extra room and the deck, too, perhaps. You can have your flowers out there, and we can finally choose a paint colour..." For the child we do not have.

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bl_fleur
2009-12-29 09:39 pm UTC (link)

Bill reached for her hand, and it was almost enough to make her go to him. All it would take was a look, a touch, and he would be putty in her hands. He still loved her--of that much she was sure--and if she wanted him to kiss her and hold her and forget their problems for a little while, he would. Something in his tone held her back, something that said, yes, he had missed her, but that whatever had been on his mind these last several months was still there. She would have him, but he would not be all hers, and she would not be satisfied with anything less. Many a tear had been shed already over it.

Fleur squeezed his hand briefly, then released it to take her seat on the other side of the table. That small distance felt like a chasm, but she was used to it. In some ways, it was also her protection. "It is a bit early yet for flowers," she said, smiling at him as she scooped up a spoonful of soup. "But I would like to see the rest. It is nice to 'ave you tinkering about the 'ouse. You will turn into your father yet."

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bl_bill
2009-12-29 09:49 pm UTC (link)

Having Fleur release his hand and walk away--even though she was simply going to her seat across from him--felt like an old wound opening again. If he was a good, solid husband, she would have stayed beside him. He shook the ridiculous thoughts from his head. We're eating lunch. She can't bloody stand there and eat.

"I promise not to begin collecting silly Muggle pieces and parts," he said with a smile. He spooned in a healthy portion of soup and nodded. "It's very good, as always," he said. "Thank you for preparing lunch. It's a pleasant surprise to find you home so early in the day." He wanted to say more, but what? There were so many unsaid things between him and Fleur, he might as well be building the spare for words unspoken.

"I should probably go to the market later today. Is there anything I could pick up for you? Anything you'd like?"

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