Genetic Confusion, Tracey/Greg, (1/1)
Title:Genetic Confusion
Author(s): airmidm and jandjsalmon
Character/Pairing: Tracey/Greg (and Aoife and Emrys too)
Rating: G
Word Count: 1196 words
Summary: Domestic bliss with the Goyles and their children at a Quidditch match.
Genetic Confusion
Greg hitched Emrys a bit higher on his hip and slowly climbed the stairs behind three-year-old Aoife. Amused that it took them what seemed like forever to get anywhere, he turned- trying not to be too over-protective- and checked on his heavily pregnant wife. "You okay, Maeve?"
Nodding, Tracey held to the railing tightly, but looked up at her husband with a sweet smile. "I'm fine. Is it just me or are there more stairs this year? I could have sworn that we didn't have to climb this high last time."
"Do you want me to get the little ones settled and carry you up?" He didn't want to be hexed for being over-the-top but he really did hate to see her having a rough go of it especially for the third time- not that he would ever deny her the chance to have as many children as she wanted.
"No, no. I'm all right, Val. Just tired," Tracey said happily, resting a hand on her ready-to-pop stomach. "Maybe climbing all these stairs is just what Baby needs to make her appearance. Besides, there's no way I'm missing the beginning of the game. Gwenog is supposed to make a big announcement today before the Snitch is released."
He chuckled, crouching down and picking Aoife up in his other arm. "Still, I'll get these two settled in and at least making myself feel better by walking the last bit with you. I love you, Trace."
"Honestly, Greg, I'm okay," she said as they climbed the last few steps and moved into their private box. Even though it was in Ballycastle - or enemy territory according to Tracey - it was a really lovely place to come watch Quidditch, especially with the kids.
Aoife was wiggling that she wanted down to run to her spot by the balcony and Emrys started reaching for his mummy, making Tracey laugh when Greg insisted that she sit down before handing over their little monster.
He rested his head on her chest, finding the warmth of the skin at her open neckline comforting considering that he'd had to wean only a few months earlier when Tracey's milk supply had finally dried up a few months after getting pregnant with the new baby. Tugging at one of Tracey's curls, Emrys wound them in his fingers and almost immediately fell asleep in her arms.
Aoife was like night and day to her brother. She was a little ball of excitement with her eyes glued to the officials flying about in front of them. She could easily remember the last time they'd come to the pitch to watch a game and was now busy pointing out all the wondrous things she could see to her smiling parents.
Greg kept a careful eye on his wife and son while chasing Aoife around the box, picking her up when she'd allow it and teaching her the Bats cheer - or at least trying to. Casting cautious looks at his wife, he whispered the words and tried to get Aoife to repeat them.
"I know what you're doing, Greg Goyle," Tracey said, amused more because she'd already taught her daughter the Holyhead rallying cry. She flipped her wand to space beside her and conjured up a play-pen to lay her now sleeping son down in just in time to hear the presenter start the pre-game announcements and introduce the captain of the Harpies.
Greg tried for an innocent expression as he carried Aoife over and they sat down with Maeve. "I wasn't doing a thing, love."
The corner of her mouth lifted and she tried not to smirk at the man she'd loved all her life. He had never been able to get anything past her, she had no idea why he'd even try to be sneaky around her. "You're a wonderful Da, you know that?" she whispered, reaching up to kiss the side of his cheek as she slid her arm in his. "A sad, misguided Quidditch fan, but a wonderful Da."
"I'd hate to hurt your feelings, Mo Rós, by telling you that you are the misguided fan." He tried not to smile, really he did, but it didn't work and he would've laughed if Emrys hadn't been sleeping. "Goyle's have been Ballycastle fans as long as there's been a Ballycastle Quidditch club."
"It just proves that Goyles as a rule are very, very confused. Except you - since you love me," she said with a wink.
"Does that make you confused?" he asked teasingly, kissing her lightly and deliberately twisting her words.
"Never," she said, relishing in his kisses. "Becoming a Goyle was the best thing I ever did. I'm just one of the unconfused ones. We marry into the family. I asked your mum. She agreed."
He couldn't stop himself from laughing aloud at that. Then he kissed her, whispering against her lips. "I'm thankful everyday that you're mine."
Tracey grinned and Aoife decided to get in on the action, standing in her da's arms and trying to kiss her mummy too. "I'm thankful every day that you gave me these little monsters," she said with a light laugh as she tickled her daughter. "I've always been yours."
"As I've always been yours," Greg replied honestly. "Even when I was too confused to figure it out."
"See, the confusion thing again," Tracey teased before having her attention pulled away by her Quidditch captain announcing that she and her biggest rival, Bat's star Finbar Quigley were getting married.
Tracey sat there staring at the news, her mouth wide open thinking that perhaps she was the confused one after all.
Greg looked from the pitch, to his speechless wife, and back again before busting out laughing. The longer she sat there shocked speechless the more he laughed.
She tilted her head and gently pushed his shoulder in jest. "So help me, if I hear one word about how she prefers Ballycastle too there will be no more wild crazy pregnancy sex," she finally came out with a wicked gleam in her eye.
His jaw dropped and he tried the 'poor pitiful me' expression. "That's a low blow, love."
"Oh please, Val," she laughed out loud and slid her arm around his waist. "You know it'd be me that cracked first at that anyway."
"True, very true. Does that mean I get to ask how long it is before your Gwenog transfers to Ballycastle?"
Pretending to be affronted at the very idea, Tracey merely glared at, and turned back to the pitch where the game was getting underway. She did her fair share of yelling at the officials and had to stop herself from cursing out the Bat's beaters when she remembered they'd brought the kids, but nothing could stop her look of mock horror when Aoife cheered loudly when her Da's favourite team caught the snitch.
Greg grinned, swinging Aoife up in his arms. "That's Da's Princess!"
Shaking her head, Tracey's face spread in a wide smile. Proof right there that born Goyles were confused Quidditch fans. She could deal with that - there was nothing better than this.
Author(s): airmidm and jandjsalmon
Character/Pairing: Tracey/Greg (and Aoife and Emrys too)
Rating: G
Word Count: 1196 words
Summary: Domestic bliss with the Goyles and their children at a Quidditch match.
Genetic Confusion
Greg hitched Emrys a bit higher on his hip and slowly climbed the stairs behind three-year-old Aoife. Amused that it took them what seemed like forever to get anywhere, he turned- trying not to be too over-protective- and checked on his heavily pregnant wife. "You okay, Maeve?"
Nodding, Tracey held to the railing tightly, but looked up at her husband with a sweet smile. "I'm fine. Is it just me or are there more stairs this year? I could have sworn that we didn't have to climb this high last time."
"Do you want me to get the little ones settled and carry you up?" He didn't want to be hexed for being over-the-top but he really did hate to see her having a rough go of it especially for the third time- not that he would ever deny her the chance to have as many children as she wanted.
"No, no. I'm all right, Val. Just tired," Tracey said happily, resting a hand on her ready-to-pop stomach. "Maybe climbing all these stairs is just what Baby needs to make her appearance. Besides, there's no way I'm missing the beginning of the game. Gwenog is supposed to make a big announcement today before the Snitch is released."
He chuckled, crouching down and picking Aoife up in his other arm. "Still, I'll get these two settled in and at least making myself feel better by walking the last bit with you. I love you, Trace."
"Honestly, Greg, I'm okay," she said as they climbed the last few steps and moved into their private box. Even though it was in Ballycastle - or enemy territory according to Tracey - it was a really lovely place to come watch Quidditch, especially with the kids.
Aoife was wiggling that she wanted down to run to her spot by the balcony and Emrys started reaching for his mummy, making Tracey laugh when Greg insisted that she sit down before handing over their little monster.
He rested his head on her chest, finding the warmth of the skin at her open neckline comforting considering that he'd had to wean only a few months earlier when Tracey's milk supply had finally dried up a few months after getting pregnant with the new baby. Tugging at one of Tracey's curls, Emrys wound them in his fingers and almost immediately fell asleep in her arms.
Aoife was like night and day to her brother. She was a little ball of excitement with her eyes glued to the officials flying about in front of them. She could easily remember the last time they'd come to the pitch to watch a game and was now busy pointing out all the wondrous things she could see to her smiling parents.
Greg kept a careful eye on his wife and son while chasing Aoife around the box, picking her up when she'd allow it and teaching her the Bats cheer - or at least trying to. Casting cautious looks at his wife, he whispered the words and tried to get Aoife to repeat them.
"I know what you're doing, Greg Goyle," Tracey said, amused more because she'd already taught her daughter the Holyhead rallying cry. She flipped her wand to space beside her and conjured up a play-pen to lay her now sleeping son down in just in time to hear the presenter start the pre-game announcements and introduce the captain of the Harpies.
Greg tried for an innocent expression as he carried Aoife over and they sat down with Maeve. "I wasn't doing a thing, love."
The corner of her mouth lifted and she tried not to smirk at the man she'd loved all her life. He had never been able to get anything past her, she had no idea why he'd even try to be sneaky around her. "You're a wonderful Da, you know that?" she whispered, reaching up to kiss the side of his cheek as she slid her arm in his. "A sad, misguided Quidditch fan, but a wonderful Da."
"I'd hate to hurt your feelings, Mo Rós, by telling you that you are the misguided fan." He tried not to smile, really he did, but it didn't work and he would've laughed if Emrys hadn't been sleeping. "Goyle's have been Ballycastle fans as long as there's been a Ballycastle Quidditch club."
"It just proves that Goyles as a rule are very, very confused. Except you - since you love me," she said with a wink.
"Does that make you confused?" he asked teasingly, kissing her lightly and deliberately twisting her words.
"Never," she said, relishing in his kisses. "Becoming a Goyle was the best thing I ever did. I'm just one of the unconfused ones. We marry into the family. I asked your mum. She agreed."
He couldn't stop himself from laughing aloud at that. Then he kissed her, whispering against her lips. "I'm thankful everyday that you're mine."
Tracey grinned and Aoife decided to get in on the action, standing in her da's arms and trying to kiss her mummy too. "I'm thankful every day that you gave me these little monsters," she said with a light laugh as she tickled her daughter. "I've always been yours."
"As I've always been yours," Greg replied honestly. "Even when I was too confused to figure it out."
"See, the confusion thing again," Tracey teased before having her attention pulled away by her Quidditch captain announcing that she and her biggest rival, Bat's star Finbar Quigley were getting married.
Tracey sat there staring at the news, her mouth wide open thinking that perhaps she was the confused one after all.
Greg looked from the pitch, to his speechless wife, and back again before busting out laughing. The longer she sat there shocked speechless the more he laughed.
She tilted her head and gently pushed his shoulder in jest. "So help me, if I hear one word about how she prefers Ballycastle too there will be no more wild crazy pregnancy sex," she finally came out with a wicked gleam in her eye.
His jaw dropped and he tried the 'poor pitiful me' expression. "That's a low blow, love."
"Oh please, Val," she laughed out loud and slid her arm around his waist. "You know it'd be me that cracked first at that anyway."
"True, very true. Does that mean I get to ask how long it is before your Gwenog transfers to Ballycastle?"
Pretending to be affronted at the very idea, Tracey merely glared at, and turned back to the pitch where the game was getting underway. She did her fair share of yelling at the officials and had to stop herself from cursing out the Bat's beaters when she remembered they'd brought the kids, but nothing could stop her look of mock horror when Aoife cheered loudly when her Da's favourite team caught the snitch.
Greg grinned, swinging Aoife up in his arms. "That's Da's Princess!"
Shaking her head, Tracey's face spread in a wide smile. Proof right there that born Goyles were confused Quidditch fans. She could deal with that - there was nothing better than this.