Backdated to the 19th
Who: Amelia Bones-Doge (:]) and Berkeley Doge
What: Late night after party musings
Where: Their bedroom (totally G, you pervs)



Amelia had never thought that the day of her littlest brother's wedding would be so nerve-wracking. It was supposed to have been happy, nice--she was happy, elated for Edgar and Gillian and the wedding had been wonderful and the reception lovely and Gillian had looked gorgeous and Ed so handsome and... blah. She was happy, honestly, there was no reason not to be, except for the fact that it was the start of a marriage for her little brother and she couldn't stop thinking about how the secret she had been keeping from Berkeley for the past week might just mean the end of her own.

To be honest, she had been avoiding him since she had found out. She wasn't going to deny it or anything, it was a conscious thing; and could you blame her for wanting to offset what could be a disastarous occasion? It wasn't that she didn't think Berk was a good man, a good husband, but hell, this news scared the shit out of her, and she wouldn't hold it against him if it scared him to the point of wanting out. It wasn't like they were Jonathan and Megan, they hadn't been together forever--for fuck's sake, they hadn't been together even six months yet--and this was something that could ruin couples that had been together years, this was... No, Amelia wouldn't blame Berk if the news of 'oh hey, you're going to be a father' made him realize it was this whole rushing into marriage thing had been a big mistake. It didn't mean she wouldn't be hurt, but... she would understand.

She didn't know when she was going to tell him yet, but being at Edgar's wedding, not being able to avoid him actively for at least half of the day, had been difficult. It had been awkward, and she was quite certain her mother and the rest of her female relatives were under the impression that she and Berk were in some enormous fight, only putting on smiles for the occasion before they went back to what was being called--with more fervor than ever now--'that spontaneous, ill-fated marriage of theirs.' Amelia had even overheard her great aunt telling her mother that she had 'told her so' as she shook her head and tutted her tongue.

The gossip made Amelia appreciate finally being home, but the closeness to Berk didn't. She had been so obvious today in the nervous way she acted around him and she could have kicked herself for it. She knew from the moment she heard his footsteps coming up behind her as she threw off her heels into the master bedroom closet that there was something coming, and that terrified her. She wasn't ready for this yet.

Berkeley really did love weddings. Part of him was excited for whatever Amelia's parents had in store with them, not a very big part, a very tiny, unsure part, but---it was there. He wasn't sure what it was, because he loved Amelia just as much as Edgar loved Gillian, despite their vows being exchanged in a courtroom, but, there was something different. Maybe your marriage being approved and having people applauding it? Which, to be quite honest, Berk didn't understand. Not that he was one to really talk about who and who should not get married, but they were just so young. Edgar didn't have a job, Gillian hadn't even finished Hogwarts yet, so throughout the midst of celebration of the couple, Berk couldn't help but think how--well, how sad it was, that this time of war made it okay for people to rush into something that was supposed to be built up and let alone to flourish on its own and---

--yeah, he was definitely one that couldn't talk.

But Berk didn't think Amelia would deny that the situation around them, plus their high-risk jobs wasn't a reason behind their quickie marriage. He didn't mind it, not at all, it just made him think. And thinking was never that smart of a thing to do for Berkeley Doge, because sometimes he thought too much and jumped to conclusions that didn't make much sense in hindsight. At any rate, he'd been a bit somber at the wedding, knowing about the dirty looks some of her family was giving him, noticing Amelia's lack of attention on him, but mostly because he couldn't keep his mind off of Elphias. Augh, see---thinking made his thoughts jump from tangent to tangent and how had he not thought about his brother these past ten minutes? There had been no change, but, they didn't think he'd last much longer if there wasn't, and, and...

He dropped to the end of the bed, slowly pulling off his shoes and then untying the front of his cloak. Berk had no idea why Amelia seemed to be avoiding him, though it could definitely be the whispers at the wedding. Maybe she was starting to be bothered by it? Eeerrrrrgggh. Berk tossed his shoe a bit rougher than he should have across the small space to the wall, and then winced when he knocked down a picture frame.

"Dang it," he muttered, feeling lazy and pulling out his wand to upright the picture. Berk looked over his shoulder at Amelia, letting out a breath through his nose, "Did you have fun?"

Amelia frowned and spun around as the photo came crashing to the floor, looking just a little surprised. Well, hell, she'd been expecting words, not an attack on picture frames and shoes being thrown and was he really that angry that--

--oh.

She let out a quiet breath of relief at realizing he hadn't done it on purpose. Even without his small curse, Berk's face wasn't the face of someone who was angry. He looked... upset? No, not quite upset, but... bothered, that was more like it. He looked troubled, and she hated that she was happy about that, but troubled was much better than pissed off. Although she wasn't happy that she knew that he was probably thinking of his brother again; he hadn't been able to keep his mind off of what was going on with Elphias lately, and she felt a heavy guilt set upon her as he asked his question. Avoiding him like she had been was probably only adding to the queue of less-than-happy thoughts that had been turning around in his head lately.

Still, she was pretty sure avoiding him wouldn't be as bad as telling him her news. That was much a much bigger deal than a little momentary awkwardness in their marriage.

"Yeah," she answered. She offered a small smile, her heart not really in it. "Did you?"

"Eh, it could've used more disco," he said with a light scrunch of his nose, pulling the final laces off the front of his cloak. Bleh, maybe he didn't want an official ceremony, he really didn't enjoy dressing up. Unless he knew he looked really good, because then that was okay. Most days he felt really skinny and his hair was a mess and he was probably a girl for caring so much, but. Still. Hell, he'd caught Amelia's attention, yeah? That had to mean something. Of course, it could mean that she was ruddy out of her mind, but, Berk was an optimist 99% of the time.

Of course he'd noticed her distance, and because he was quite sure he hadn't done anything wrong (at least, nothing he could think of, but it could really be that bad since she didn't seem angry at him), Berk could only assume it was work. Or her family. Family could get annoying, he knew that for sure. Or maybe she was worried about Elphias too. Or maybe she was just tired and needed space. That happened too, or maybe--or maybe---Berk couldn't help as his mind wandered yet again, and flopped back into the bed, laying his hands on his chest, wringing his fingers. For an auror, he had a lot of small, awkward tendencies. He was supposed to strictly stay with the rules, like any set of rules, but that simply was not possible.

"Tired?"

Amelia unzipped the back of the dress and let out a sigh of relief as it fell to the floor at her feet. She hadn't realized how constricting the garment was until it was off, and as she stepped out of the pool of fabric at her feet and pulled on a soft, oversized sleepshirt, she reveled in the freedom it provided. She was used to wearing heels and skirts around--it was a departmental requirement to look nice, after all--but it was still the best feeling in the world to throw it all off at the end of the day and get into something comfortable.

She employed a bare foot in kicking aside the dress for the moment, and came out of the closet to slide down onto the bed next to her husband. Amelia regarded him with half a face, the other half smooshed into her pillow. He really did look preoccupied; on second thought, maybe she was going to get lucky tonight and there would be no uncomfortable conversation at all.

"Yeah." She was starting to sound like a broken record, wasn't she? "Beat dead, just about. Too much dancing, too much eating, too much evading the company of overbearing aunties and uncles. There's paperwork downstairs calling my name, but I think it'll have to wait until the morning, as it is."

So her family had been bothering her. Oy, goodness---Berk scrunched his nose at her then looked up at the ceiling, letting out another breath. His lunch tomorrow would again be spent at St. Mungo's, the few visiting hours the hospital allowed in the evening would be occupied by himself and Mycroft (who Berk literally had to force out of the place) and their parents, and Elphias' girlfriend (even in a serious situation like that he could not see Phoebe as anyone but Elphias' girlfriend. Imagine there was a little 'ooh-ing' going on in the background, and that's what Berk thought every time he spoke to the girl). So he wasn't really looking forward to tomorrow, or the morning, and he wanted to talk to Amelia about things, but. She'd been avoided him all night, he'd let her not-avoid her when she wanted. He guessed. Unless it got to the point where she wasn't even sleeping at the house anymore. Because that would be bad. Really bad.

"Mmm, go to bed, then," he murmured, not quite sure if he'd be able to change out of his clothes because he too was ready to pass out. Ehhh....Berk shifted a bit, slinging an arm over Amelia's waist, moving so that he was on the edge of his pillow, face half hidden just like hers. He'd let her not...be...in a mood to talk to him...much, but he still had to sleep comfortably...right, yes. That was what it's all about. There was no sense of worry going through him at all, making him a little clingy. Except he didn't want to be clingy. Except he didn't want to pull back now because that would look weird. Except now she might get mad at him.

Oh, forget it. She was his wife, she could deal with it. Unless she didn't want to, which would be bad. Really bad, very bad, even---Berk's hand was pulling up the quilt before his mind could implode on itself, and he stretched his neck to give Amelia a kiss. He really hoped she didn't not want to kiss him. Was that the right way to say it---yes. He wanted her to want to kiss him.

The problem wasn't kissing or physical closeness or anything like that. None of that required words, and to be honest, physical closeness was comforting, even if she got to be frightened that he'd open his mouth at any time and start asking her questions she didn't want to answer. Physical closeness while they were quiet and not talking felt good, because hell--just because she was avoiding him and was afraid of what he was going to say when she finally spilled didn't mean she didn't love him. On the contrary, she felt right now like staying away was a way to keep them together (which sounded so backwards when put like that, but), which she wanted to do because she loved him and--

--nnnngh. This was such a crap situation to be in.

Quite certain now that Berkeley was far too tired to bring up the dreaded topic tonight (thank Merlin), Amelia allowed herself to relax just slightly. She responded to the kiss with a little push back against his lips and brought a hand up to push a couple dark locks out of his face. When she pulled back, she regarded his attire tiredly. "Not going to change?"

"You know when you're so tired, and---you just want to lie down where you are, and...even if your shoes are on and---you know you're going to wake up very, very uncomfortable, but it was so worth it?"

Berkeley grinned, letting out a long breath through his nose. Well, she hadn't smacked him away, which was always a good sign, so that was leading him to believe that she was particularly mad at him, just...well, it happened. Sometimes you simply were not in the mood to deal with things and...yes. That was it. Her family whispering put her in a bad mood, so Amelia avoided the topic of said whispering, which mean avoiding Berkeley, and...it made sense. At least, it was the most logical and painless thing he could think about, because their first real family get together should have been a lot nicer then the one they'd ended up with. But, it happened. They'd have plenty more.

His arm around her waist pulled her closer, and Berk knew the moment his face was buried into her hair, or her head was nestled against his shoulder, he'd fall asleep. It was strange; before they got married, he could sleep standing up for all he cared---but now, nights without Amelia (well, mostly naps, he didn't exactly spend nights without her anymore) were near impossible without her body somehow touching his. Even if five minutes after they dozed off they turned away from each other and didn't touch for the rest of the night, he needed that initial warmth to drift off into sleep.

Amelia smiled a little, even though he couldn't see it. "Yeah, I know what that feels like," she said. Her voice was bordering on drowsy and far-off, even to her own ears, and she knew that she had only minutes before she was off in dreamland. It was nights like this that you wished you didn't have work in the morning, so you could just sleep and sleep and wake up around noon or something, not know that you were going to be roughly jolted from your slumber by a harsh alarm clock about six hours too early.

Didn't matter, though. Her coherent thoughts were growing thinner by the moment and soon enough, all unpleasant alarm-clocks were far away from the front of her mind. Not much seemed to matter for long when she was laying with Berkeley, all snuggled up like this.

Mia took a deep breath and closed her eyes, burying her head further into his chest. Even if the future was uncertain, who could fault her for drinking in this moment while she could? "G'night," she muttered.