xp_logs | Nathan and Moira, the wedding night

She is all States, and all Princes, I,
Nothing else is.
Princes doe but play us; compar’d to this,
All honor’s mimique; All wealth alchimie.
Thou sunne art halfe as happy’as wee,
In that the worlds’s contracted thus;
Thine age askes ease, and since thy duties bee
To warme the world, that’s done in warming us.
Shine here to us, and thou art everywhere;
This bed thy center is, these walls, thy spheare.

- John Donne, 'Sunne Rising'

There hadn't been any need for sneaking into the bedroom tonight. In fact, the more agreeable of Moira's relatives had all but marched the two of them to the door. Scottish custom, he gathered, although he had been sorely tempted to point out to them that really, they were doing a number of things backwards here. All things considered. He heard Moira laugh softly as the thought slipped down the link, and Nathan turned away from the window, smiling at her.

"How are the feet holding up?" he asked, limping carefully over to the bed. He had helped her out of her gown already, and she looked quite relieved to be lying down. "You were sure dancing up a storm for a pregnant lady, wife'o'mine..." Oh, how he liked the sound of that.

"Sore, husband'o'mine," Moira mimicked, reaching out to grab onto his hand lightly. "But a price I'd happily pay again." And again, and again. This had been a long time in coming but it was done and they were starting anew. With each other.

"Well, here's to years of dancing until our feet are sore," Nathan said cheerfully, stretching out beside her on the bed and smiling as she moved into his arms. "And, you know, all of the other fringe benefits..." He studied her hair thoughtfully, running a hand over the little braids and ringlets. "What did Anna do, shellac it?" She poked him in the ribs with a laugh, but his yelp turned into a chuckle. "Not that it's not gorgeous, but I'm just wondering if you're going to have the same hairstyle for the next month..."

She snorted at that. "Considerin' how me hair gets, I'm surprised she dinnae," she retorted, snuggling closer. "It'll probably stay like this for a few days an' then be verra, verra wavy for a while. I'll make sure it willnae eat ye in yer sleep."

"I trust you to defend me." Nathan took a deep breath, then let it out, amazed by how quickly he'd gone from (pleasantly) wound up to almost completely relaxed. "We have an early flight tomorrow," he reminded her, a slight, mischievous smile playing on his lips. "I suppose, you know, given that you're pregnant and I'm a convalescent, the smart thing to do would be to go to sleep."

There was a slight pout from Moira. "But Nathan," she said, grinning at him, "when on eart' have we ever done th' smart thin'?"

"Let's make a pact," Nathan suggested, but only after he'd kissed her, very soundly. "No matter how old we get, let's make sure that the parts of us that stay up all night watching bad historical movies and dance until our feet fall off and occasionally push each other in the lake never grow up. Sound like a plan?"

"Deal."