InsaneJournal

Who: Gwenog Jones and Fabian Prewett
What: The minor problem of living arrangements needs to be addressed.
When: Evening of Monday, 1 June 1998.
Where: Fabian's flat.
Warnings: Mentions of everything that's happened to them in the last two months but otherwise okay.



Fabian was sprawled out on the futon they'd dragged down from upstairs when Gwen arrived in from the Ministry. The flat was filled with a warm, cheesy scent, though, that told Gwen something was cooking. Indeed, when she came around and out into the open area, she could see that there was a pot on the stove and bacon set out to go into the pan, and heavy crusted bread ready to go into the over. He tossed the craft journal he was reading aside and got up to greet Gwen, putting his arms round her and giving her a kiss. "Wotcher, Gwen. Hope you're feeling like Welsh rarebit, because I've got all the fixings out and made the sauce."

Gwen liked coming back from work to someone being there. She had lived alone or in the road for so long, coming back from a long day to a warm face and someone to share her day with was an absolutely brilliant feeling. Even better was when she walked in and smelled food cooking. "Hello, Fabian." She replied, kissing him back and holding him in a hug a little longer before putting her things down. "I'm starving. That sounds fantastic, and smells even better." She walked over to the futon and sat down, letting out a long sigh. "How was your day?"

"All right. Spent most of it working on a thorny theoretical problem here. No clients were scheduled to call and Dedalus still runs me out every chance he gets, so I thought I didn't need to bother going in." Fabian was being more careful than usual about taking new clients on right now--apart from the residual gawkers, there was a slight chance that Lady Noir was going to take pre-emptive action against him. He was wary about going out on jobs alone just now. "I'll get the bacon going and we'll eat in a bit." Soon enough there was the sound of sizzling from the stove, the bread was toasting, and Fabian was slicing a tomato for Gwen. "How was your day? Boss keeping you on the run?"

She stayed on the futon for a bit, until the smell of bacon lured her into the kitchen. Plus, she wanted to actually look at Fabian while they were talking. "Not really. I suspect he's still trying to make me take it easy. I think he's been giving other people some of my duties." Which at this point, she wasn't sure if she was grateful for, or annoyed with.

"I went back to my flat." She said, sort of abruptly. She hadn't told him she had, what with the memorials and everything happening, but it had been weighing on her mind for a while now and she needed to get it out. She was careful about keeping her face calm and controlled looking when she mentioned it.

Fabian finished shutting the oven with the rarebit inside it and turned round to take a look at Gwen. Since that seemed to call for some comment, he said, "Oh." After a moment he thought better of that short of a response. "How'd that go? I'd've gone with you if you'd asked--you did take someone with you, right?" Given how much trouble Gwen had--was still having--with the aftermath of the Knocker's attack, going alone was foolhardy. Not that he was going to say that to her either way; Fabian simply understood the risks. There were places he didn't go alone either.

"It was..." She sighed. "I went with Bina. We got takeaway and she accompanied me to my flat for some things I needed." As for how it went, she was still having trouble finding the right words. "I had to do a lot of breathing exercises. I loved that flat but... well now they all know I live there, don't they? The Death Eaters, I mean. I can't live there anymore." Not that she had been since the attack, anyway. "I'm going to have to find a new flat."

Fabian started to say something about the Death Eaters not necessarily knowing all the same things, though that hardly addressed her underlying concern. Not that Fabian thought she should go back to the flat at all; he'd been ready to offer her a recommendation for a solicitor to get her out of the rental contract. But the last thing Gwen had to say about it left his brow a bit furrowed. "I thought you were going to stay here."

Well there obviously had been a little miscommunication going on. When Fabian thought she was staying with him, she rose a brow slightly. “Oh.” She replied, unsure of when they had this particular conversation. “I thought when we discussed it, that… it was just while I was recovering.” Which was true - she had thought that, she didn’t realize they were talking about her moving in full time, for real. “Do you want me to move in with you? As in, actually living together full time? Not just me staying here for a while and invading your space because I can’t go home?”

"Well, I knew you weren't going back there." The cheese mixture was bubbling on the toast inside the oven, so Fabian pulled it out and started to plate the rarebit for them. "I guess I didn't realise--it just seems awfully soon. If you want to move out, I mean, I wouldn't want to keep you. But," and he paused for a moment while he shook some paprika over the rarebit, "I like having you here. I haven't lived with anybody for a long time. Not really since my brother and I lived together when we were training for Auror--Azkaban doesn't count--so I reckon I'm a terrible flatmate. Do you want to live here?"

Of course, neither of them really expected her to go back to her flat. Gwen had wanted to, but she knew it was just out of the question. She didn’t feel safe there at all, and despite how much she had loved the flat - how perfect it was for her - it just wasn’t home anymore. But she hadn’t thought that by moving into Fabian’s the last few weeks to recover was really meant for her to stay literally as long as she liked. When he mentioned he was a terrible flatmate, she had to laugh. “I come back and you make me dinner and you think you’re a terrible flatmate? You’ve been wonderful, Fabian, truly. I love it here. Of course I want to live here - I just didn’t know you wanted me to officially move in, if that’s what you want. It’s sort of a big step, isn’t it?”

The plates and glasses started floating toward the table, which was already set, and Fabian gestured to her to take her place (she had one now, he realised).

"It is. And it's insanely fast. It's been, what, not quite three months since you dragged me out for your birthday? Three months in which I've been interrogated by the Aurors, duelled Lady Noir, and attended my twin brother's funeral, and during which you've been kidnapped by a Death Eater and rescued. So, on the one hand. not exactly a situation conducive to taking rational and clear decisions. On the other hand, who's going to understand all that other than somebody who lived through it with you?" He found the bottle of wine he was looking for in the rack and tapped it open wordlessly with his wand.

“I know, only three months… It is rather fast, but we’re also adults. We’ve also known each other for a while before we started dating. It’s not like I had no clue who you were before all this.” She shrugged her shoulders lightly. On the one hand, she knew it was very quick - but really, with everything they had been through? It felt more often like they had been together for years. Fabian had been through everything with her, and she did already practically live with him. “Being rational isn’t always the best way to be, either. So what if we irrationally moved in with each other too quickly? We’re not wee little children, we’re adults. I know what I want in life, as do you, right? So really, I’m saying yes - I do want to live here, full time, with you.”

"Gwen, despite my predilection for stupid bravery, I did get sorted into Slytherin. If something I want drops into my hand, no strings attached, I'm not the sort of man to turn it down. And if you can put up with the insanity I live with--which you now have some idea of--I'm not letting you go. So that's it. You're moving in." Fabian handed her the first glass of wine and poured the second for himself. "So here's to you formally moving in." He raised his glass in a toast.

Gwen had to admit, when he got decisive like that… Well, she liked it, to say the least. She took the glass that was offered to her and raised it up to his, clinking the rim of hers to his lightly. “Cheers, then.” She agreed, laughing a little. It was nice, to have this firm decision, this knowing. She could leave her flat and didn’t have to worry about where she would go, what she was going to do. Now she just had to get rid of a few things and bring the rest over. “I’ll be invading your space soon enough with my own things, then. Say goodbye to your closet space.”

Fabian was laughing, too, as he drank the toast and settled into his own chair at last. "Oi, the inside of the wardrobe expands, but there's a limit. Just because I love you doesn't mean you can get rid of all my clothes. Let's sort out what you're bringing over and which pieces of my furniture need to go to make room for them. Some of my things can probably go straight into the rubbish tip, but anything nice is going into the attic at Prewett House."

As she sipped her wine, she nearly choked on it when she heard what he said. Just because I love you. Managing to keep her cool, she swallowed the sip (which burned a little) and set her cup down. All other plans of furniture and whatnot were wiped from her mind completely. “Did you just say you love me, Fabian Prewett?”

Fabian flushed slightly and replayed what he'd just said in his mind. Oh, he had said that, hadn't he? "The accused stood, well, sat, mute and the Wizengamot ordered a plea of nolo contendere entered into the record." He found himself ducking his head a little and straightened consciously to stop the tell. "I didn't want to say it too soon. And I didn't want to say it in the shadow of everything we've been going through. I didn't want you to think I was saying it because I was grieving, or because you were taking care of me. It seemed like a lot of pressure to put on you."

He said it, but only sort of. He didn’t disagree with her, but he was also making a lot of caveats about it. She sat back in her chair a little, studying him just a bit. She understood his reasoning - and perhaps, if he’d said it just a few days ago she might have felt differently, and she certainly would have if he had said it a few weeks ago. But now was different. They were coming out of the darkest times of her life and some of the saddest of his, and though their relationship might always be followed by these horrible events, she could feel that they were moving past them, together. “I don’t think any of those things. Not anymore, anyway. I love you too, Fabian.”

A little tension that Fabian hadn't noticed drained out of him at Gwen's words. "I'm glad." He reached across the table for her hand, to take it and kiss the back of it. "I do--worry's not the right word--I'm aware, I suppose, that this is all happening at breakneck speed, and it's a little overwhelming for me, and it's got to be the same for you. But if you say you're ready, I believe you. I do love you, and not just because you've been my anchor through all of this. And not just because it's hard for a man who's come out of Azkaban enjoy the kind of happiness you've brought back into my life. I just ... love you."

While Gwen did agree that most of this was happening very quickly, she didn’t necessarily think she fell in love all that quickly. Three months of being with someone - even if she hadn’t been exclusive for all of it - was enough time to know your feelings for someone. Love was funny like that. You could know rather instantly whether or not you loved someone, and she had known that with Fabian. But being an adult, she had waited on those feelings, to see if they stuck. And they had, tremendously, through all the terrible things they had had to deal with. “I feel the same, Fabian. Truly. I know everything has been very intense and quick, but I’ve had feelings for you for a long, long time. Even before we started dating, I fancied you. And I knew a while ago that I could love you, and that I did love you. Everything that’s happened has just confirmed how strongly I feel.”

"And here I wanted it to be memorable when I said it. Memorable for being romantic, not for me putting my foot in my mouth up to the ankle." The corners of Fabian's mouth curled up ruefully as he reached across the table for Gwen's hand, which he brought to his mouth and kissed the back of. "I'm glad you're staying, and I'm glad we're in the same place about each other and I'm glad you put up with all my awkwardness and complications and my crazy family."

She laughed a little when he said he'd put his foot in his mouth, and she stood up and leaned over the table to give him a kiss after he'd kissed her hand. "It's reassuring to know we're on the same page about everything. I didn't think my feelings would go unreturned, but it's nice to know for sure. And look, we have wine and you made me dinner. It's perfectly romantic."

"At least you won't forget it. Although if we don't either eat the rarebit or put a warming charm on it, it'll be memorable in a very different way. So these are our options: eat dinner and figure out which pieces of our furniture will fit around the piano--it's not negotiable--or we stop worrying about dinner and properly celebrate your moving in." Fabian waggled his eyebrows at Gwen. "Your choice."

"You went through the trouble to make me dinner and it smells amazing - we're going to eat it, figure out furniture, and then properly celebrate my official moving in. How about that?" Gwen smirked at Fabian, brow raised at him slightly as she took another sip of her wine.

Fabian raised his glass to that. "I'm proud to be a part of this plan."