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Pffft, worry.

Why worry? What's there to worry about?

(And in the moments when she wakes up, she can still remember, because of course there are things to worry about, always have been, always will be, and she should think about them but but but but but...)

But Caspian's wife is giving the impression, when she throws her arms around him from behind and murmurs, "Guess who," against his ear that she doesn't see anything at all worth worrying about. (And if she leans in a little closer than she strictly needs to to brush her lips agains his skin, she probably just lost her balance.)

She thinks the chocolate bar gave her has given her more energy than she's had in months, really.

He doesn't quite lose his balance, but certainly he's losing his touch or his concentration, because she has managed to startle him entirely out of his reverie, and he laughs because her breath is tickling the side of his neck, warm in this cold autumn air.

She's out of reach, has the advantage, and even if he tried to turn and catch her, she'dbe able to skip merrily away without ever being caught.

(Lucy did learn more than just grace from the dryads.)

"Hullo," he says instead, and laughs, and catches her hands in his, tugging her arms around his stomach.

She's pouting against his neck.

Really! That's what it is, pouting!

"You didn't guess," she says sadly, for all her arms go firm around him and pull him close to her. "You're supposed to guess. What if it were someone else entirely? I might come up and see my husband being hugged by some strange woman, and then I'd have to go snog Lilly to recover from my grief."

"Who else would come up to embrace me like this?" he begins, with a laugh that ends in a rather startled, confused manner as she continues.

"You'd have to what Lilly?"

It's funny how British tea and mannerisms made their way to Narnia, but not the slang.

"I think just about anyone if they've eyes," she declares.

...Now that?

That's a grin against his neck.

Possibly an evil one.

"Have I never showed you what a snog is?"

"If you have, I must have forgotten," he says honestly. His neck is warm against her mouth, and if she pulled back far enough to see she would notice how very pink it has gone.

it isn't that Caspian doesn't know that his wife thinks him handsome. It's just that, like everybody, he likes to hear it now and again, and it always makes him colour uncontrollably. Hearing it from Lucy has ever been different from hearing it from anyone else.

"Oh, dear," she says, mournfully, and moves around to the front of him, arms lifting enough to go about his neck.

She looks

(golden haired and gay)

brighter-eyed than she has in a long time, be they green eyes or grey (maybe almost too bright) and she's smirking a great deal as she says, "Can't have that, now. I'll have to remind you."

And she does.

Normally, if she kisses him in public, it's--well, it's meant, but if they're out in some place like the side of the lake in the mid of day, it's the proper sort of kiss you should give if anyone could walk by and see. Sometimes a bit deeper than others, sometimes a bit longer, but they tend towards the same.

But he needs to know what a snog is, after all, so he should truly have a proper one, Lucy thinks, and so she starts to kiss him and pull him close, and it's as much tasting the inside of his mouth as just her lips to his and Lucy's eyes are laughing as one of her hands runs along his back.

She wouldn't want him to be mistaken over what the word means, after all.

It's--

Well.

It's a remarkable kiss. Lucy has never been soft and yielding--she has ever given back what she takes and he was surprised to learn how strong she is after a wrestling match which had ensued on the floors of their rooms after. So when she presses into him and draws his head down and kisses him as though his breath gives her life, it tends to knock him off his feet, and all he can do is kiss her back and wrap his arms around her the way he does when they are alone.

And then he remembers what else she had said, and pulls back with alarming speed, looking only a degree short of utterly horrified.

"You would do that to Lilly?"

"Not if you kept me too busy to," she answers, which is perhaps not the most reassuring of all answers to give, but she's a bit busy pouting again.

She can't kiss him when he pulls away, and she was enjoying that and he's ruining her plan of seduction which she thought was quite a good one.

Not a very detailed one, but quite a good one for all that.

If her plan of seduction is based around making him jealous of Lilly Kane, perhaps it could stand a few more revisions.

Caspian doesn't quite move back towards her yet, but he doesn't look upset, really. His face is a mixture of blank astonishment, mild distress, and utter bemusement. Her answer wasn't entirely reassuring, which is likely the reason behind his not looking reassured at all.

"What on earth gave you that idea?" he gets out eventually, in a wondering sort of tone.

"Well, I'd be grief-stricken, you know," she reminds him, a bit frustrated that there's still talking about this, when there are much better ways to be spending time, "and Lilly is always a comfort, and she's quite pretty and I'm rather certain she wouldn't mind as she offered to steal me away from you the day of the wedding, but I thought that would just be rude. Also, she's extremely skilled in such things, you know. So it would all work out nicely, but since you're not being hugged by strange women, I needn't be grief stricken and go seek comfort in Lilly's arms."

Perfectly logical.

"So you could snog me instead. At the very least." There's more than a bit of emphasis on very, and it's a tiny bit stern.

He stares at her, open-mouthed, at this extraordinary recital.

"...It would have a been a tad sight more than rude, you know," he offers, a little helplessly.

Lilly. He's going to have to have some words with that girl.

"Well, that's why I didn't," Lucy points out, thinking her husband is a lovely man who she's sadly going to have to choke soon if he doesn't drop this train of thought, as she cheerfully grabs his shirt and pulls him back towards her.

"Your mouth is open. Someone might put something in it, if you leave it like that," she informs him solemnly, before leaning in to kiss him again and proving her words very true as she tastes again, and it's still all she can do not to laugh at the same time for simple joy.

"Right," vaguely. Caspian looks rather like someone has just hit him over the head with something heavy.

But then her hands are fisted in his shirt, and there are beltloops she can grab (it must have been no more than a coincidence that this morning he had put on the worn and battered jeans instead of his more usual attire) and her mouth is right there and for the moment, he forgets all about Lilly Kane and why Lucy might or might not be thinking about kissing her.

And she laughs into his mouth and if he isn't allowed to talk then surely this isn't allowed either, so he kisses her rather harder and stops the laugh where it is until it turns into the pleased little noise she makes sometimes in the back of her throat, especially when his hands are running up her back to the curve of her neck like they're doing now.

It's a pleased noise, and she will never admit it because in some areas she is stubborn and a tiny bit proud, but it's a bit of a whimper, too.

But a happy one, so even if she can't laugh, this is almost as good.

She doesn't care about the boat, and she doesn't care about dreams, either, or even the lake, or who might be around or who might not as the fingers of her left hand wind through one of his belt loops and pull him closer that way and her right hand slips under his shirt.

She just feels greedy, and she likes it.

And, well. He needs to know what a proper snog is and all, and she can't be certain he's completely understanding it yet.

Truth to tell, at the moment Caspian cares very little for anything other than the woman in his arms and the way she is kissing him and her hand on his skin. The rope has slipped from his hands to coil loosely at Lucy's feet, and his hand is at her waist and the other is at the back of her head.

He may be getting rather a clearer picture, now.

If Lucy were told such a thing, she'd likely say, "Thank God," to be best honest.

As it is, she remembers to breathe through her nose best she can as her hand moves under his shirt to his front. Fingers move along his ribs and then up to his collar bone and done again, drawing circles on his skin as she goes, and she ducks her head to kiss along his neck.

Maybe she won't have to choke him.

It would be something of a waste. He shivers a little at the touch of cold air and warm hand together on the skin of his back and stomach; goosebumps run swiftly along his forearms and he makes a noise that is something between a groan and a breathless laugh.

He's not entirely entranced yet--there's still something very odd about all of this, but before he can put his finger on it she stands up on tiptoe to get closer and as his arms go about her he simply casts it from his mind, for the moment.

She lets her fingers pinch, a little, and tries to see if she can make it more of a groan and less of a laugh.

"Don't you dare stop," she murmurs against the crook of his neck and shoulder and nips at the skin before pressing kisses softly to the same spot.

She can't worry at all, because he still tastes so good it makes everything else all right.

He makes a breathless sound that is probably a won't, but it's awfully hard to try and talk just now. Tipping his head back as her mouth travels over his throat, he slips a hand beneath the hem of her shirt and traces along her side and up her ribs firmly.

There's a spot by her collarbone that alwways makes her shiver, and he dips his head to pay special attention to it, kissing away the cold from the air and watching with delight as it slowly flushes red.

"Oh, God," she manages, shaking as she tries to breathe.

Something should come after it. She thinks. Something, except it feels too good and she can't process enough to figure out what it should be as she closes her eyes and it's not enough and it's making it hard to stay standing both.

Something, she thinks, and then it hits her and it's just, "Need you," before she has to whimper again, and this time she couldn't deny that's what she was doing.

It's too cold, too open, too public, too unlike anything that has ever happened thus far, and so Caspian is a little bemused but smiling as he kisses his way up her throat and along the underside of her jaw, brushing thick golden hair out of the way.

"It isn't as though it's been such a very long time since you've seen me, Lu," he murmurs, amused, against her skin.

"Need more than to see," she replies and has it catch in her throat.

And really, the only part that would bother her at all right now if it was pointed out is how cold it is, but instead she's dropping kisses to his hair and both her hands are running across his chest now.

"Always need you. It's you," Lucy manages and thinks it's not enough, saying it that way, but it's the best she can with his mouth still moving like that and as she feels his chest againt the palm of her hands.

"I'm always here." His voice is low and rumbles over her skin, under her hands.

Something like a laugh gusts over the delicate skin at the hollow of her throat, but it's followed quickly by kisses and Caspian doesn't say what it was that he had thought so funny.

"I'm always glad," she answers and starts to kiss her way down his chest, and it may be through his shirt but she lingers as she goes, and when she makes it to the bottom of his ribcage she lifts his shirt to press her mouth to his stomach.

"Why're you laughing?" she manages, but she doesn't stop kissing.