(no subject)
"I have a problem," Lionel announced one day, spring, curled awkwardly into an armchair in the living room of his flat. His reading glasses were on, And Lionel pushed them up his nose before finally looking up at Sally Anne with magnified eyes.
"What's that?" Sally asked. She came to lean over the back of Lionel's chair. One of her socked feet lifted into the air as she put most of her weight onto her arms. A clash of bangs fell into her face. Her hair had yet to be brushed that morning, and Sally Anne was still in pink patterned sweatpants and a t-shirt, her pajamas.
They weren't living together, or at least that's what they'd say if you asked. But after Veronica left, Lionel had some extra room around the house, and Sally spent so much time there anyway, somehow or other most of her stuff just ended up in the spare bedroom. Five out of seven nights were spent there, and a sixth was with Lionel anyway, out at show until the early hours of the next morning.
Lionel shrugged and shook his head, looking back down at the article he was writing. "D'you remember that time we dated?"
"Yeah, like, a million years ago," Sally answered. "Back in school. Before you left. Why, what's the problem?" She kicked her other foot up and holds her breath, leaning suspended in balance over the top of the armchair before her momentum pulled her legs back down to the floor again.
He shrugged again. "No problem. Y'know. Just." Another shrug, and Lionel shook his hair out of his face. It was getting long again, he'd have to remember to get Sally to cut it later.
"Just...?" she prompted.
"Was just thinking it was nice." Lionel did not look up. "Was thinking I'd like to do it again sometime." He coughed quietly.
Sally pulled a face, wrinkling her nose and squinting her eyes. "Lionel, do you fancy me?"
"Yep," he said resignedly. "Just thought you might want to know." Lionel went back to his article. He'd long outgrown any expectations of feelings being returned by anyone. All the women he'd loved before had knocked that habit out of him.
Sally, however, was undettered. "It got weird in the end, remember?" She tried her balancing trick again, enjoying one moment of perfect suspension over the back of the armchair before falling back to earth.
"Yeah, but I'm different now," Lionel pointed out. He looked up at her again, then remembered his reading glasses and took them off.
She nodded. "Yeah. I think it was when you were in Africa." Sally tapped her lips thoughtfully. "Your letters got weird in Africa."
"Africa was a trip," Lionel agreed. He blinked, as if remembering some long-ago adventure, then looked at Sally Anne again. "You know you were the only one I wrote."
"I know. I've got the letters still."
Lionel nodded a few times. "Good, good." There was a pause. Lionel thought perhaps he should be continuing to plead his case. He added, "Also, war's over now."
"War's over now," Sally echoed in agreement. They had gone to their last funeral two months ago. "But you've still got your Mark."
"Let's not talk about it."
Sally tried her trick again, pushing off a little harder this time. She lingered longer, tilted forward across the back of the chair. Lionel took the opportunity to sit up and press his lips to hers quickly, then settled back down to where he was before as Sally's feet landed on the carpet again.
Sally frowned a little at him. "It's still kinda weird."
He shrugged, not bothered. "You've been kissing too many girls."
She frowned a little more. "Have not."
"Have too."
"Have not."
"Have too."
"Have not."
Sally Anne shut him up with another quick soft press of mouths, then pulled away and yawned. "I'm hungry. Can we have eggs for dinner?"
"Sure," Lionel said. He set his article away, but did not sit up. "I think we can do that."
"'Kay." Sally pushed away from the armchair and wandered into the kitchen quietly. She called, "Hey Lionel, if we're doing this again, you have to marry me so I can stay a Lovegood."
There was a pause.
"And you need to buy eggs for dinner."
(and they lived happily ever after. ~the end~)