WHO: Lyssandra Eberlee and Patrick Vance
WHAT: Unintentional Engagements
WHERE: Lyssandra's house
Lyssandra was sure that if she had testicles, they'd be blue right now.
No, maybe not blue -
black. She had been seeing Patrick on and off for what seemed like
ages and she'd found that it was too difficult to stop herself if they more than just made out - that was a problem since he was so bloody attractive.
But she had promised herself that she'd take it slow this time around to make sure that Emily got a proper family and not just a drug-addicted musician and a trainwreck of a mother.
She'd invited Patrick over today for dinner and was actually trying her hand at cooking - Portuguese food, because that was one of the few things she could cook well without starting a fire.
Emily was next to her in the playpen and the ever-present boa constrictor was wrapped around the base of it (in his protective ring, of course).
Patrick shrugged his shoulders to bury his neck and face further into the collar of his winter cloak. It had been one of the biggest snowfalls of the winter, last night (though he supposed winter only technically started on the solstice, but--), and he was really itching to hitch a portkey to the Caribbean for some 'business' for his father.
But, he had a date that he couldn't miss.
He didn't like thinking of it that way, though. Patrick liked to say that he wouldn't want Lyssandra to find him
rude, because he was surely a man that wasn't rude. At least not to women he enjoyed the company of. Choosing to stay in the frozen tundra that was England was a big deal to him, and he wasn't about to go announcing it to anyone...even though both his sisters had been giving him those
questioning looks every time they probed him about 'the woman' he was seeing.
His sisters were far too annoying and persistent to give them a
name. Patrick let them conjure up their own ideas of 'the woman' that he'd been seeing since the summer (just about), because...it wasn't a big deal. Patrick didn't
do big deals outside of work. He totally didn't think this was a big deal, what he had with Lyssandra.
But he couldn't figure out why the fuck he wasn't drinking mojitos in Puerto Rico right at this moment.
With a great shiver he knocked rapidly on her front door.
She hopped up and away from the stove more quickly than was probably healthy for someone who'd been on her feet cooking all day and hadn't eaten much, but she couldn't help it. She would certainly admit that she
liked Patrick quite a lot and that he'd been excellent about her desire not to jump right into sex.
It had been a long time, though. Lyssandra had actually found that since they weren't constantly having sex she'd learned a lot about Patrick's personality (something she certainly couldn't say for that damned Hobgoblin). It wasn't something she'd done with a guy since -- probably since Santiago. The fact she was actually able to sustain a relationship for longer than a few weeks with someone she wasn't sleeping with was, she thought, an important step in actually becoming an adult (a little belatedly).
"Hi!" She opened the door and greeted him with a tight-armed hug around his shoulders and a kiss that she was tempted to let linger.
"I hope the trip wasn't too bad, the snow looks like it's awful."
Patrick snuck an extra kiss and kept his arms around Lyssandra to keep her close. There was a warmth in the embrace that had more to do with the chilly weather. "Ah, well. You know." He fluttered his eyes dramatically, "I'm a wizard, surviving nature's elements just takes a swish and a flick."
Or a one-way ticket to the whitest beaches in the world, with the clearest water and--
Her hug tightened slightly and brought Patrick mentally back to the doorstep. He grinned widely and didn't move to enter the house. This was really quite comfortable, to be honest. Lyssandra was warm, making things nice and toasty. But he supposed Emily couldn't be left alone for long. They
were just in the doorway, a baby couldn't get into
that much trouble, right?
But she did have that snake...
"Where's the munchkin?" he asked, still not moving from their spot, but peering over Lyssandra's shoulder.
"She's in her pen with the snake surgically attached to her, as usual. You think it's trying to figure out if it can eat her?" Before Patrick could lecture her on what a terrible idea it was to leave a baby alone in a room with a snake, she added, "And yes, the snake is in its invisible cage. I'm not all that irresponsible." At least ... not anymore. She honestly didn't think the snaked wanted to eat her daughter, though, because it hadn't stretched out next to her - merely curled around her playpen.
For the heat, probably. Lyssandra was content to settle into Patrick a little more after casting a glance over at the stove, happy to see that her food was nearly done. "You're just in time for things to be cooked without letting them sit for too long."
Some things improved, but tortillas were not one of them -- they just got soggy.
She arched her eyebrow at Patrick. "So, are you going to
come in, or should we have dinner here in the doorway? It would make feeding Emily a bit difficult."
"We could have some dessert here," Patrick murmured, pushing forward to grab another kiss. What was the rush? They were comfortable right here, Emily was safe in her pen, and the food seemed to be somewhat stable. Was she really eager to get back to standing in front of a hot stove? Surely she would rather stand here and kiss him, hm? Patrick thought his logic made perfect sense, really, and tightened his grip around Lyssandra's waist.
Patrick grinned against her lips. She was really lucky she was a bloody good kisser, or else this lack of sex thing would be a
much bigger deal. Not that it
wasn't a big deal; Patrick could not recall spending so much time with a girl he hadn't slept with. And even if he
had slept with them, Lyssandra had definitely beaten the record for his longest...relationship...thing.
He supposed she was his girlfriend. Patrick was pretty sure he'd never officially asked her, or called her that to anyone who may have asked--all he did know was that he'd be
extremely pissed off if some other bloke tried to talk to her in
that sort of manner.
"Mm, delicious," he said with a quick smack of his lips.
"Dessert before dinner will ruin your appetite." Merlin knew that she couldn't have thought about that in a way that condoned marriage before sex until now, and the fact that she could made her a bit ... disgusted, and a bit proud. She let him have the kiss though, and brought her own hands down to rest against his wrists.
"And besides, you need to taste my tacos. You don't want them to get soggy." And oh
good, her extremely dirty mind was back. She gave herself a little bit of a twist and made sure to let her hand pit-stop to touch his arse before she stepped back into the apartment.
He was letting in a draft by now, she was sure, and Emily got so
whiny when she was cold. It couldn't have been good for the snake either, anyway. Lyssandra too considered them boyfriend and girlfriend, so Patrick didn't have to worry about socking someone in the face over things.
She actually pulled away! Patrick stood there stunned, watching Lyssandra back into the flat with a confused expression. Only confused for a second though, and his mind began to crank around a little faster and his gaping mouth turned into a frown. This was bullshit.
"You know I could be island hopping right now?" he said, his tone not angry, but...he really wanted to know if she realized he was plowing through the snow to see her instead of taking the easier, warmer route around this freezing winter. Accusatory, maybe? Maybe she was enjoying toying with his libido. "Yep, my boss wanted me to head over to the Caribbean to try and sign some new talent, but
I decided to freeze my arse off here with you."
Patrick's stance was unknowingly mimicking that of his mother's, a woman who could lecture for hours upon end. His foot was even tapping slightly, finding himself growing more frustrated by the second. Why couldn't Lyssandra see that he
cared, for fuck's sake!
Oh dear Merlin, did he even
know how hard it was to get things perfectly toasted without burning them and -- wait, what was he saying? She crossed her arms defiantly over her chest (why did she suddenly feel as if her mother was lecturing her?) and arched an eyebrow at him, pausing on her way into the kitchen.
She was sorely tempted to point out that he was currently standing like a woman, but she managed to refrain somehow.
"...you could have gone, you know. I mean -- it would have been warmer." And then, because she was pretty sure it was what he was fishing for, "...I would have missed you a hell of a lot and Emily probably would have whined, but I don't want to keep you from doing things if you'd rather." She furrowed her own brows and took a step forward to stroke her hands over his shoulders, glancing up at him.
"I mean, I know this whole 'no sex' thing is kind of horrid ... but hasn't it been nice to actually get to know someone without explicit carnal knowledge? It ... has for me." The puppy dog eyes came out now and she looked to him expectantly.
Patrick huffed, his frown still prominent on his face, "I
wouldn't rather be there, is what I'm saying!" he let out, annoyed, but glad that she'd come back. He didn't exactly like that
he liked that she'd come back, because that meant he actually
wanted her to want to be with him and that was---far too confusing for even his Ravenclaw mind. Patrick ducked his chin to look at Lyssandra, listening to how she appreciated the fact that they hadn't consummated their relationship (yes, that was how he was viewing it, now).
...okay, so maybe now he felt like a bit of a jerk for his little outburst, but as Patrick opened his mouth to respond, he realized that it hadn't been about the sex. Or maybe--no, it was the fact that...he knew she wanted to go slow, so that she knew he wouldn't fuck her over, but hadn't he been proving that he cared? Maybe he hadn't, or not enough?
How the hell did he show her that he cared enough for her to trust him? And to get the point across that he wasn't just frustrated about sex? Because it
wasn't about the sex! He'd figured that part out, at least!
"I mean---I think it's good, too," he said honestly, "I do," Patrick reassured, because really, what kind of guy said that? "It's--I feel like---I dunno," he shrugged, letting out a breath that turned into a white cloud in the cold air, "To get that complete trust we'd have to get married or something."
His face paled immediately at his statement, but Patrick found he wasn't splinching himself in a frantic attempt to disapparate away from Lyssandra. Though the nauseating feeling in his stomach might mean that he
was going to involuntarily disappear, and soon.
Oh, if only Lyssandra hadn't perfected the 'R u 4 real' look in her fourth year ... this would have probably been far less amusing for the both of them. As it was, she shot him the incredulous look and followed it up with a deer-in-the-headlights just to make things better.
"Married?" She swallowed thickly. Okay, she'd been following everything he'd been saying right up until he mentioned that they should get hitched so that they could achieve another level of trust and --
He'd rather come and see her in her tiny house with her (sometimes) crying baby than go somewhere he could probably see scores of tanned and topless women walking around serving drinks. She'd been seeing him since the
summer and hadn't pressured her for sex, genuinely. He was handsome and funny and ...
"If I say 'okay', are you going to pass out on me? Because I know that the snowbanks
look soft, but they aren't, really." She fiddled her fingers over his shoulder and up to brush against the back of his neck, quirking a brow.
He had just proposed marriage to Lyssandra. Patrick blinked down at her as he tried to figure out how that had happened, and managed to retrace his words. Oh, boy. That was not what he meant, when he said---he had
meant that it felt like she wouldn't trust him like she wanted to trust him up until that point, but---
why hadn't he disapparated, yet? Hm? Patrick could not figure this out, as he had definitely rolled his eyes in the front of hysterical women he'd annoyed and left the scene to let them
relax without a word, so---
This should definitely be one of those quick disppearance kind of things.
But it wasn't, and Patrick's hands lifted to Lyssandra's waist without him realizing it. Oh, hell, he was about to get engaged, wasn't he? When the hell had
that become all right? His mother was going to have a bloody conniption when she heard---
if she heard, because Patrick certainly could not deal with his mother any time soon. He still had to manage himself, and all these
life-altering changes and decisions he'd been going through and making.
"You'll marry me?" he asked, feeling his insides turn furiously. His expression became somewhat softer, even if he was still nervous, but--this was a spur of the moment thing! A
big spur of the moment thing! He didn't even have a bloody ring! Damn, he'd have to get on that.
How the fuck was he proposing right now!
She didn't even feel as if she had to go through her mental check-list again to make sure that he was a bloke she felt all right with marrying...probably because she knew that he was an excellent fellow and she actually knew things
about him. Her cheeks tinted pink with his words and she nodded, leaning up to press a kiss to his lips and then settling back down on the balls of her feet.
"Yes, Patrick, I will marry you." She even managed to refrain from saying that he should probably get some goddamned tacos before they were completely gone to hell. As if on cue, the utterly soothing sounds of Emily's shouting started to flutter through the air.
"MAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMAAAAAAA
AAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
Charming, wasn't it? She wondered if Patrick had really taken into account the fact he'd be hearing that more often than he had in the past (although granted, he seemed to be able to make the little girl calm down almost as fast as Lyssandra when she let him).
"I mean," now was definitely not the time to have him change his mind, but, "as long as you don't want me to ship Emily off to some sort of boarding school for tots." Lyssandra smiled a tad awkwardly.
"No--just Hogwarts, I suppose?" Patrick said, finally stepping out of the doorway of the house and shutting it behind him. His head was spinning from everything that had just occurred, and as he entered the house which was nice and warm from the food cooking on the stove, Patrick realized that he
may have been suffering from hypothermia or some madness like that. Was he in the right state of mind? Was he actually
engaged?
He nearly stumbled behind Lyssandra toward the baby's pen, and the involuntary grin that slid onto his face every time he saw Emily surfaced once again. Okay, maybe his head wasn't all that unscrewed. Maybe this was good, no--it
was good, even if it was a bit crazy. Crazy could definitely be good, sometimes.
"I need a taco," he let out, dropping down into a chair near Emily. He needed to stop his head from spinning, and there was really only one cure for that. He smiled over at Lyssandra---his
fiancée, and dropped his head to the back of the chair. "And a drink."
"As long as you don't spill on Emily," she mused with a slight laugh, wandering over to the oven to charm the tacos out of the oven. She tugged a table over to where Patrick was sitting so that they could both be near to Emily and leaned in to press a kiss to the top of the girl's head.
"What's your poison,
dear?" She was going to torment him with that one for a little while ... unless he liked her calling him that. "I've got a single bottle of tequila left that I guarantee you is the best you've ever had, because
I helped make it."
She'd given all the other ones to Santiago, but she hadn't been able to resist keeping
one for herself (and no, she hadn't touched it during her pregnancy).
Patrick pulled a face and gestured for the bottle, wherever it may be.
"I'll trust your skills,
darling," he countered, fidgeting less and less in his seat as the seconds passed. Maybe things weren't going to change. Maybe he and Lyssandra would just keep going on like they had been, but be married. They'd have to live together of course, and he'd have to be a bit more involved with Emily's life (okay, a
lot more involved), but--that didn't sound too awful, really.
Well, good. He'd decided that getting married wouldn't be too awful.
Patrick decided that was progress, and sat straighter in his chair. Yes, he could definitely agree to this, especially with Lyssandra. She was the only woman in his very long list of women that had kept him
wanting more without
needing more. If that made sense. Patrick didn't think
anything he was saying, or thinking made much sense anymore, but it would be a lot easier to swallow once Lyssandra brought over that tequila.
For once she actually felt she didn't have to tell a man who was in her house drinking with her not to drink
too much, because she trusted that Patrick would show restraint around their daughter.
She brought over two shot glasses and grabbed a lime from the fridge, setting the things down on the table in front of him and arching her brow.
"I haven't been breast feeding for a month or so now, just so you know." Because she felt she needed to state that while she poured the tequila shots. Lyssandra settled into the chair next to Patrick and tried to stop her ridiculous grin.
As much as this hadn't been about sex ... it had also been
over a year for Lyssandra. What was a few more months, if that was how Patrick wanted to play things? She supposed they'd just have to see where the evening took them.
"Yummy," he drawled, toasting the shot glass with Lyssandra before downing the drink. Well,
damn, she had done a good job preparing this tequila. Patrick let the drink send a pleasant burning sensation down the back of his throat, and he shut his eyes tightly for a few seconds before taking in a deep breath.
He looked over at Lyssandra, thoughtful. This was good, and it was going to be good. Patrick had never seen himself as the marrying type, but he found that he enjoyed the idea of being with someone through life, rather than wondering if he'd be alone for a holiday, or a birthday, or any sort of celebration. It seemed like a nice thing to have, that solid foundation of...well, family. And look, he already had a daughter. He definitely knew how to pick them.
"I'm going to get you a ring," he said after a moment, concentrating on Lyssandra. Patrick didn't think he'd have to drop down to one knee once he purchased the piece of jewelry, because he rather liked how they'd come to this agreement.
They were good for each other, so they would get married. Why couldn't the rest of life be that simple?
