RP Log: Jo and Pepper
Who: Pepper and Jo When: Monday 24 November evening Where: Their flat What: Pepper has made A Decision! Rating: PG-13? Status: Complete
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The last couple of days had involved far, far too much deep thinking, and also baby pictures. Pepper was slightly more inclined to the former, to be honest, as there was rather less leftover childhood bitterness in it, though in this case it had at least provided an amusing distraction. And fuck it, maybe the picture of tiny-Jo had had some bearing on things anyway, considering the whole un-de-tangleable ball of stuff that was his relationship with her, and if having a picnic with her could sway things, it was quite possible that a baby picture could too.
He'd found lately that he was finishing work earlier than her most days, and Monday was one of them. While normally the fact would go barely noticed, today it made him almost unbearably impatient as he paced from room to room, straightening things that didn't need straightening and nearly tripping over Hardy several times as she wound around his feet. God, and they might be getting a kitten soon as well-- they, even though it had been Jo who'd thought of it and said anything about it-- and assumed it would be okay with him. And why was it that he was so nervous about this, even though he knew she wouldn't have changed her mind since yesterday?
There was a certain amount of dread involved in work that Jo had not previously experienced. She named it dread because, invariably, she would be lead to think about various ways that she could be dead within the hour at the hands of any number of vengeful Lestranges. There was no fear; she would take them down with her, screaming, if need be. But it was there and she had to acknowledge it in order to work beyond it.
It was better, anyway, thinking about death than the thought that Pepper, after all this time, still needed a way out of their life together. It was better than thinking, despite trying her best to love him, that he still wanted an escape hatch and maybe Rodolphus was right: she was no better than an animal. So as she caught up (for one never really caught up completely) on her paperwork as much as she saw fit, she took the flat down to the Atrium. A coin from her pocket for the fountain - a nameless wish - and she was back at the flat, slipping out of her flats and hanging her bag on the door to the bedroom.
There were a few welcoming rumbles from Cleo who received a scratch of gratitude and she fell upon the sofa, closing her eyes tightly until ...
One eye popped open. Were things clean? Fuck. What happened? She was instantly wary. "Pepper?"
Typical that it was when he moved towards the back of the flat that she came home, really, and that she'd slipped in so quietly; Pepper was used to the animals making all manner of noises, often from knocking things over that really oughtn't be knocked over, so it wasn't until he actually heard his name in that bemused, suspicious, curious tone of voice that he realised that there was actually another human around. Wondering what it was that she was bemused, suspicious and/or curious about, he came back out to the living room, looking around to see if anything was wildly out of place before clicking that this was probably the first time in a good two weeks that he'd actually been able to see what the top of the coffee table was made out of. "Oh. I did some cleaning," he explained needlessly, entirely aware that she could bloody well see that.
And of course now that she was here he wasn't sure what to say or how to start. This was why he did not generally have relationships with people, or at least why he never used to. It was so fucking hard to talk about anything important. "How was work?" he asked instead, and then wondered if it would be inappropriate to stab himself in the temple with a fork.
"Long," she replied, reaching out for him with an insistent arm. She wanted him close, skin to skin and all that. "Full of requisite paperwork and one nice, long spate of surveillance. But I'm not green like Smythe, so there's no complaining." Pause. "You?"
Green. Like, literally green, or metaphorically-- No, that was completely beside the point, really, and he totally shouldn't let himself get sidetracked by the bizarre drama of the DMLE, no matter how much he sort of missed the crazy. He let her tug him closer, fitting her up against him lazily and easily, so very easily. That had to mean something, just like the picnic and the baby photos and a million other tiny little details that were always so much more important than they should be. "Nothing but paperwork," he commented drily, though thoughtlessly, tossed aside as a requisite answer of little relevance. "I went-- for a walk on my lunchbreak, though. And I said I was thinking, and I was thinking, aaaand this may or may not be the absolute worst idea ever, but I love you and I want to wake up with you when you're old and saggy and you can't open jars anymore, so I'm thinking we should get married."
With her cheek upon his chest as he spoke, she flexed her arms more tightly about his waist and gave a throaty laugh.
There. Right there. Gods and demons, was this what elation felt like?
"Well," she said. "Well. Let's pray that you maintain your hand-strength, then."
"I could make a very dirty comment right now." He smirked, tucking her head in under his chin a bit and resting his cheek on her hair. It smelled faintly of her shampoo, faded after the apparently long day at work but still there and it scared him a little that he could recognise it. But then didn't they say fear was good? Fear and pain, two of the most unpleasant things in the world, but people grabbed on tight and clung to the possibility of them just because they came with something good. "Does this mean I get to see you in a fancy white dress or do you want to be completely contrary and wear jeans?"
"Well, I'm amenable to a discussion about this - because if I'm in the foofy white dress, then you're going to wear a monkey-suit." Her palm splayed over the expanse of his waist in search of soft, familiar skin. "But a night running the streets in Montmartre suits me too."
He couldn't quite hold back an instinctive grimace at the idea of that much formalwear - honestly Pepper wasn't sure he could remember the last time he'd gotten really dressed up, or maybe that was because he just plain hadn't. Cissy had campaigned to get the school to hold a ball, but it had been over the Christmas holidays and he couldn't be bothered with that shit and had ended up just going home. "Paris is nice. I'm good with Paris. I'd say or a registry office but I think Grady would kill me." He grinned, wondering how he was going to tell people that he was actually getting married. It was weird even for him to think about. "Oh!" he said suddenly, pulling away slightly so he could dig his hand into his pocket; "I almost forgot. I got you a ring when I was out, that was sort of supposed to be the end of that sentence, but it kind of rambled away from the point a bit. And you would not believe how hard it is to find rings that aren't diamond." It was, in fact, ruby, and possibly searching for it on his lunch hour had been a bad idea considering how badly he'd been scraping the line of late when he'd gotten back, but hopefully she'd like it - and there was that knot of anxiety back again as he held it out, waiting for her judgment.
Her gasp could be heard four floors down as she sat up straight and beheld the thing that would symbolize her eternal attachment to him. It was perfect. Absolutely ... "I love it," was a hushed whisper. "I love it. I love you. We're really doing this!"
"I hope so or I've just spent two days agonising over this for nothing." Pepper laughed softly, practically staring at the expression on her face. This was what he was doing this for, then. This was what would be worth all the risks. He reached up a hand to thread into her hair, not-quite-uncomfortably aware of how sappy he was risking being right now. "You look really pretty when you're all happy."
Sappy was the name of the game as far as Jo was concerned and she drank in all of the love that seemed to be emanating from him. Turning to brush her lips against the pale insides of his wrist, leaning her cheek into his palm, she grinned. "And you're a handsome devil. Put the ring on me. I'll never take it off ..."
"Are we inviting people - or shall we be the selfish elopers?"
He slid it onto her finger obediently, glad at least that the magic in the silver adjusted slightly - the fit had been close, he knew far too many details about her body like exactly how slender her fingers were, but he'd have been surprised if he'd gotten it exactly right. It looked good on her, and he had to admit he rather did share her fondness for red. It was symbolic of all sorts of fun things. She had a very convenient birth month. "Eloping is really, really tempting," he admitted in amusement. "If just to annoy everyone. I don't know. It depends when we want to do this, I suppose, and how long it leaves for planning shit."
She blinked. "I don't give a fuck about anybody but you. I'd go tonight."
Now that really was tempting, if only it wasn't for logic and practicalities! "I think it takes a week or two to get a marriage license usually. Unless you, I don't know, bribe them horribly or something. And they're probably closed by now, with their stupid working hours and all." It was really inconvenient how places did that - surely there was plenty of call for emergency marriage licenses after-hours on a Monday night. "How about... Paris, the night after we get all the legalities and stuff, and I suppose we probably need two witnesses so we can invite a person each and then go out dancing all night."
Ring affixed, plans affixed and an obliging man beneath her, Jo slid happily over his body and laid her teeth against the angular plane of his jaw, following it up with a long, lingering kiss that smeared over the whole length of his precious face. "Let's do it - I'll make the Parisian plans, love. The Muggle authorities ought to get the license in a week. Then you'll be Mr Josephine Savage."
He laughed at that, freely and genuinely. "I think not. The rest sounds good though. And right now, I think we should go out for dinner, and then maybe see how many ink splotches we can get from a select and particular group of people." It was, he decided, perhaps a sign of how madly he adored her right now that he didn't feel the need to wipe his face like a little boy at a family reunion with great aunt marge; instead he just kissed her back, reveling in the taste of her and the warmth of her all wrapped up in him. This would work out. If nothing else, they'd at least have this.
With a snort, she left their kiss upon the edge of his chin and slid from him to stand with her hands upon her hips. This was good; life-affirming, everything she needed in her existence. It could all wrap up in him. As that thought ruminated in her skull she marvelled over it and slid into their bedroom, searching for the her perfect little black dress.