Who? Ernie & Abi Where? Paris When? Sometime during the Paris door. What? Being lovely and romantic and stuff. Rating? Mature Status? Closed, partly g-docced.
Ernest was buzzing with excitement as he paced in the lobby of their hotel waiting for his date for the evening. It was the same hotel lobby he had been waiting in all those years ago - nearly one hundred years ago in this reality, and a few less than that in his own reality.
The place was nearly unrecognisable unless one looked closely. Some of the architectural features gave it away, the cornices and the staircase, the shape of the windows and the stained glass feature above the main doors. If you carefully examined the floor, you could see a few spots where the modern overlay had worn away slightly, revealing the old red tiles beneath.
Paris was always like coming home to Ernest, no matter the year. And now Abi was what felt like home to him as well. There couldn’t have been a better door for them, and Ernest was keen to give her a romantic whirlwind of a weekend. He wanted to remind her that no matter how comfortable they got together, he was never going to take her for granted. He wouldn’t become complacent and bored. Or boring.
And so he waited, fixing his tie and playing with his cuffs, trying not to look like he was feeling nervous butterflies, even now.
---
Abi felt some rather large butterflies floating around her stomach as she got ready. Paris had a certain kind of magic for both of them but for Ernest in particular; his whole life had been around Paris, his entire history had revolved around the city a hundred years ago and while it wasn’t the same city, the effect on him was the same. Ernest regressed to that boyish state and became incredibly romantic and giddy, dizzyingly wonderful and sweet.
She hoped she looked okay; wanting to mix it up, Abi had wandered around Paris for something more modern but that felt like it had a connection to his past too, a slim waisted gold number with heavy beading and tiny cap sleeves that dipped nearly to her naval in the front and scooped at the back. A slick of red lipstick and she was ready, her hair more relaxed and messy than she would normally have worn with such a formal, pretty dress but that was her through and through.
Truth be told, Abi needed this weekend alone with him. Charlie was nearing four and was becoming a challenge to deal with – a whole weekend with just adult company (and adult situations) was wonderful as an idea.
“Ernest?” she asked as she appeared, running her fingers through her hair almost nervously. “Are you ready, honey?”
---
Ernest turned at the sound of Abi’s voice, giving her a smile that grew wider as he actually saw her. He felt speechless for a moment, faltering in a sort of surprise. Abigail was always beautiful to him, and he was endlessly turned on by her. She really didn’t have to try hard to make him want her. But seeing her all dressed up was quite the special treat.
“Wow…” he breathed, reaching out to take hold of her hand and make her do a little turn for him. “You look absolutely amazing,” he told her genuinely. He wanted to kiss her, but the red lipstick was stopping him. It was a nice touch, it seemed to provide that sexual tension even though they knew each other so intimately by now.
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Still her cheeks would turn the sweetest shade of pink when he complimented her, no matter how brazen the comment would be. For now, she only saw the light bouncing around his eyes and the sincerity of his amazement. Ernest was the one who took her breath away.
“Thank you,” Abi replied, running her hands over his jacket and shirt, idly straightening the lines where they sat. “But that didn’t answer my question; are you ready to go?”
He looked as handsome as he always did, even though she really preferred her Ernie when he was ruffled and roughened by the day, rubbing ink into the corner of his eye when she wasn’t looking. It was incredibly endearing and sexy at the same time. Not that she disliked the more put-together version either - Paris was a damned good look on him too.
---
He adored it when he could make her blush like that, not with dirty talk but with his sincerity and compliments. He loved that it still had an effect on her even now.
Ernest beamed at her as she straightened him up, just thrilled that this wonderful woman was all his. And they were together, in Paris. What could be better?
“Yeah, you bet I am,” he grinned, offering her his arm like an old-fashioned gent. “Dinner and dancing? I can't promise you Cole Porter live this time, but I'm sure I could put in a request for a cover version.”