Jily Oneshots (pt2)

The Waiting Game

by cesays

"I've been thinking."

"Careful." The concern in her voice made him stop what he was doing—trying and failing to dice an onion without severing any fingers—and look her way. Her face was a picture of solemnity. "You might hurt yourself."

"Eh?" He glanced down at the knife in his hands, wondering, as ever, at her apparent ability to sense danger even when he was trying desperately to keep it under wraps.

The solemnity shifted into a smile, something quick and mischievous. "Thinking," she elaborated. "You might hurt yourself."

"Okay," he started, turning to point an accusatory finger at her. "Is that any way to speak to your future husband?"

She abandoned her job chopping mushrooms to sidle closer to him, her hand slipping up his chest as she brought out his favourite of her moves: she stood on her tiptoes to reach for a kiss. It was hard to stay annoyed—to even stay fake annoyed—when she was so bloody cute.

A long, languid kiss later, knife and onions abandoned so he could bury his fingers in the wild red curls that framed her face, and she pulled back with a smile. "I'm sorry," she said, and he couldn't remember what she was sorry for. "You were saying?"

"Right." This was a recurring issue: everything about Lily distracted him, even when she wasn't trying to do so. She could get annoyed with him for forgetting to unload the dishwasher, and he would still find himself waylaid by the curve of her lips, the way her brow would furrow just so, the flick of her hair in frustration. He knew that he could be distracting, too, but not nearly so often and not in quite the same way. "Yes. I was saying that I've been thinking—"

"Usually something you say before you talk me into doing some daft," she added fondly.

He chose to ignore that statement. "I was thinking about what your mum and dad were saying the other day."

She frowned just a little, eyes raised to the ceiling as she tried to remember. "What, about making sure that your Aunty Beth doesn't end up on the same table as my Aunty Maureen? It's already dealt with, love."

"No, not that," he assured her. A moment, again, briefly distracted as she smoothed down a wrinkle in his shirt. "No, when your dad was saying how glad they both were that they waited until the wedding night to—well—consummate."

Lily raised her eyebrows, a smirk growing on her lips. "You know he was saying that to wind you up, right?"

"Of course," James nodded. He wasn't stupid. Anthony Evans had thoroughly enjoyed trying to make his future son-in-law as uncomfortable as possible every time they saw each other. He guessed that was where Lily got her mischievous side. "But I was thinking, and maybe they had a point."

Now, she laughed, and turned back to her task at the chopping board. "I hate to break it to you, James, but I think that ship has sailed," she pointed out. "Many, many times."

"No, I know—"

"Many, many, many times."

"I am aware," he huffed, returning to the onions. "Well aware, of all our amazing sex, thank you."

"So, what are you suggesting?" she asked. "Time machine?"

He paused, directing his gaze thoughtfully out of the window for a moment. "God, can you imagine? We could relive that night when we first moved in here and shagged in every room."

"I would've thought the point of the time machine would be to not have sex," she reminded him. "So that we could wait until we were married."

"Yes, but—every room, Lil," he pointed out.