WHO: Ron & Stephanie WHAT: Ron's wife scares him with her insanity. And other things. WHEN: Evening. WHERE: Their flat. RATING: There may or may not be some language.
Ron didn't know why it was so bloody essential that he bring ice cream home, but he got the feeling that it had something to do with a surprise of sorts. Why else would Steph have texted him the way she had? All rushed, then a quick change of her mind, then all rushed up again with an added last minute note about ice cream, of all things. It made sense, right? She had to be setting him up for something. The ice cream trip was sort of a win/win, too, because not only would it stall him, but he'd be able to bring something they probably needed to the party as well.
Except, well, the thing of it was there was no actual reason for them to be celebrating anything. It wasn't his birthday, he hadn't really accomplished much of anything as of late, and there wasn't any particular holiday that Ron was supposed to really be personally invested in, was there? It was more than on the off side that Steph was behaving this way and decidedly throwing him a party to boot, but that seemed to be the beat to the drum Steph had sitting beside her as of late, anyway. Strange. Very strange. Almost maddeningly so. Ron had questioned it yesterday on the boards, which Steph hadn't much appreciated, but he had been right, hadn't he? She was acting like a completely different person with anger problems and now....well, now this, whatever it was.
Though, Ron had to admit, a surprise party certainly beat her randomly shouting at him, assaulting his face with the remote control to their TV set, and then getting all cross at him for no logical reason, didn't it? Though what was he really to expect when he got home? A party or an irritable, violent wreck of the woman he'd fallen in love with?
Ron had to admit, he was sort of afraid to find out.
With the cartons of ice cream tucked underneath his arm (Ron had gone for the mint chocolate chip, while Steph had gotten her half of the request fulfilled), Ron apparated outside the complex and heavily shuffled his way up to their flat, half dreading the moment he walked through the front door.
Except when he shouldered his way inside, he didn't find a party. No people shouting at him, no, "SURPRISE, RON, IT'S A PARTY THAT YOU ABSOLUTELY COULD NOT HAVE ANTICIPATED! WE GOT YOU GOOD, DIDN'T WE! HA! HA! HA!" No, everything was normal.
Brow furrowed, Ron walked into the kitchen and propped the ice cream onto the counter. Fingers brushing through the bright strands of hair that had fallen into his eyes on the way inside (Merlin, he needed a haircut -- Mum'd pitch one hell of a fit if she saw him in this state), Ron turned away from the ice cream he'd brought home and called out Stephanie's name cautiously. "Steph?"