Summer Camp 2013 Day 3
Title- The Point Five
Rated- G
Word Count- 1,047
Summary- Amelia thinks on an unusually nice day in London on a park bench
I have never watched Notting Hill but apparently there's a park scene at the end so here you go idek
|The Point Five|
"What will she be like?"
Amelia glances up at him, the angle odd and giving her only the rough area of his mouth and chin for her to look at in regards to his face. She is lying across his lap on a park bench in central London, something she never thought would happen were she to be completely and utterly honest with herself and the sun glistening across what of his hair she can see makes her glad that it did happen. Her hand trails down her torso to conjoin with his, resting on her stomach.
"You're presuming, I see," she teases and Arthur looks down at her, giving her a good look at his face, flushed and defensive.
"I'm not presuming," he retorts, "I know."
A woman pushes a stroller by them, a silently asleep child within it, head lolling to one side, while another rambunctiously clings to his mother's skirts. Amelia smiles at them as the pass but they don't notice, the mother too caught up in the antics of her children. "How could you possibly know?" she asks then, turning her attention back to Arthur.
"I just do," he says and Amelia knows there will be no changing his mind until the baby is here (not for months yet, and luckily too as they have much more planning to do. They need a bigger apartment and oh God they have so much stuff to gather) and he is either proven wrong or right. Once a curmudgeon, always a curmudgeon.
Amelia doesn't mind either way. How she would love it to be a boy just so she could prove Arthur wrong, but in all honesty she doesn't mind. No one else walks by for a few moments and they sit in silence. It is near absolute except for the faint sound of cars passing by the park, a crow in a tree about fifty yards away and the sound of someone's child squealing in the distance. But it's still quiet.
Amelia misses the hustle and bustle of New York city. To be honest, she misses America full stop. She loved England, she really did, but she had never meant to live here. However, she also knows there is no convincing Arthur to move elsewhere. If she's honest with herself though she knows there is nowhere she'd rather be than England if she couldn't be home and there's nowhere she'd rather be full stop than with Arthur.
She'll convince him to come back with her during the holidays and she knows how he dislikes the city. It's funny how he has such a loathing for the city of New York yet lives in one of the main cities in England. Although, Amelia supposes suburban areas of London are nothing compared to the Big Apple and she also may or may not have lost him for a few hours the first time she ever brought him which probably leaves a bitter taste in his mouth like he insisted the tea she found him drinking in a tiny little coffee shop three hours after she ran off gave him.
'New York is not a place for a child' he insisted when she brought it up and he knows as well as she does that central London isn't ideal for him either. He'd be in his element in some tiny cottage in a village in Cornwall with a room for his strangely vast collection of books and a garden so he can keep a rose bush. He has never shown her any particular interest in gardening, per se, but she knows given half a chance he would enjoy it. Apartments don't have very good gardens though.
Amelia looks up at him again and catches his eye as he looks down at her. She cranes her neck up slightly and he leans down, rubbing his nose against her in something akin to an eskimo kiss. She lets out a noise of discontent and he chuckles, stretching his neck a little bit more so he can graze her lips with his own. They stay like that for a handful of moments before he drops it, pulling back up and looking at the strangely blue sky, arms spread out across either side of the bench. It's sunny and that's odd for London; England in general if you want to be precise. Another family pass by and the whole lot of them appear to be wearing matching khaki shorts which is disconcerting to say the least for Amelia but she supposes everyone to their own. There's two little girls and a younger boy who is still unsteady on his feet as he totters after them, giggling as their parents wearily lug their items and trail after them.
"Do you want another one," she asks.
"Another what?" Arthur questions, confused.
"Baby," she say simply and he blanches as she wonders what she said wrong.
"Amelia," he says and sounds exasperated as he does so, "Try and get through this one first before you worry about having anymore of them."
"Are you worried about me?" she asks, her voice a high pitched fake simper and he scowls but there is no malice behind it.
"Honestly, I think you can wait until we have the picket fence to start living out the American dream," he says.
Amelia doesn't necessarily want the American dream. She always found the idea of being a housewife tedious and she just can't see Arthur being a stay at home father either. She knows he will dote on whatever children they end up having regardless of prior responsibilities, just like she knows she will, but she can't give them the America dream. She's also not quite sure how to have point five of a child yet but she's sure she could work that one out somehow.
Regardless of what he says anyway, Amelia knows that Arthur wants more children and she doesn't dislike the idea either. Whether they have this one or a million others like it, Amelia knows she'll be happy because Arthur's there even if a hundred babies are also there ruining the mood.
"He Arthur," she says and he looks down at her once again.
"Yes?" he asks.
"I think it's a girl too."
|END|
Rated- G
Word Count- 1,047
Summary- Amelia thinks on an unusually nice day in London on a park bench
I have never watched Notting Hill but apparently there's a park scene at the end so here you go idek
|The Point Five|
"What will she be like?"
Amelia glances up at him, the angle odd and giving her only the rough area of his mouth and chin for her to look at in regards to his face. She is lying across his lap on a park bench in central London, something she never thought would happen were she to be completely and utterly honest with herself and the sun glistening across what of his hair she can see makes her glad that it did happen. Her hand trails down her torso to conjoin with his, resting on her stomach.
"You're presuming, I see," she teases and Arthur looks down at her, giving her a good look at his face, flushed and defensive.
"I'm not presuming," he retorts, "I know."
A woman pushes a stroller by them, a silently asleep child within it, head lolling to one side, while another rambunctiously clings to his mother's skirts. Amelia smiles at them as the pass but they don't notice, the mother too caught up in the antics of her children. "How could you possibly know?" she asks then, turning her attention back to Arthur.
"I just do," he says and Amelia knows there will be no changing his mind until the baby is here (not for months yet, and luckily too as they have much more planning to do. They need a bigger apartment and oh God they have so much stuff to gather) and he is either proven wrong or right. Once a curmudgeon, always a curmudgeon.
Amelia doesn't mind either way. How she would love it to be a boy just so she could prove Arthur wrong, but in all honesty she doesn't mind. No one else walks by for a few moments and they sit in silence. It is near absolute except for the faint sound of cars passing by the park, a crow in a tree about fifty yards away and the sound of someone's child squealing in the distance. But it's still quiet.
Amelia misses the hustle and bustle of New York city. To be honest, she misses America full stop. She loved England, she really did, but she had never meant to live here. However, she also knows there is no convincing Arthur to move elsewhere. If she's honest with herself though she knows there is nowhere she'd rather be than England if she couldn't be home and there's nowhere she'd rather be full stop than with Arthur.
She'll convince him to come back with her during the holidays and she knows how he dislikes the city. It's funny how he has such a loathing for the city of New York yet lives in one of the main cities in England. Although, Amelia supposes suburban areas of London are nothing compared to the Big Apple and she also may or may not have lost him for a few hours the first time she ever brought him which probably leaves a bitter taste in his mouth like he insisted the tea she found him drinking in a tiny little coffee shop three hours after she ran off gave him.
'New York is not a place for a child' he insisted when she brought it up and he knows as well as she does that central London isn't ideal for him either. He'd be in his element in some tiny cottage in a village in Cornwall with a room for his strangely vast collection of books and a garden so he can keep a rose bush. He has never shown her any particular interest in gardening, per se, but she knows given half a chance he would enjoy it. Apartments don't have very good gardens though.
Amelia looks up at him again and catches his eye as he looks down at her. She cranes her neck up slightly and he leans down, rubbing his nose against her in something akin to an eskimo kiss. She lets out a noise of discontent and he chuckles, stretching his neck a little bit more so he can graze her lips with his own. They stay like that for a handful of moments before he drops it, pulling back up and looking at the strangely blue sky, arms spread out across either side of the bench. It's sunny and that's odd for London; England in general if you want to be precise. Another family pass by and the whole lot of them appear to be wearing matching khaki shorts which is disconcerting to say the least for Amelia but she supposes everyone to their own. There's two little girls and a younger boy who is still unsteady on his feet as he totters after them, giggling as their parents wearily lug their items and trail after them.
"Do you want another one," she asks.
"Another what?" Arthur questions, confused.
"Baby," she say simply and he blanches as she wonders what she said wrong.
"Amelia," he says and sounds exasperated as he does so, "Try and get through this one first before you worry about having anymore of them."
"Are you worried about me?" she asks, her voice a high pitched fake simper and he scowls but there is no malice behind it.
"Honestly, I think you can wait until we have the picket fence to start living out the American dream," he says.
Amelia doesn't necessarily want the American dream. She always found the idea of being a housewife tedious and she just can't see Arthur being a stay at home father either. She knows he will dote on whatever children they end up having regardless of prior responsibilities, just like she knows she will, but she can't give them the America dream. She's also not quite sure how to have point five of a child yet but she's sure she could work that one out somehow.
Regardless of what he says anyway, Amelia knows that Arthur wants more children and she doesn't dislike the idea either. Whether they have this one or a million others like it, Amelia knows she'll be happy because Arthur's there even if a hundred babies are also there ruining the mood.
"He Arthur," she says and he looks down at her once again.
"Yes?" he asks.
"I think it's a girl too."
|END|