+ 5000 Fall in Love meme prompt 1
Feb. 16th, 2012 09:16 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dicreasy2This is my first response for the + 5000 fall in love meme organised by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
fireflowersims.
Title: Oh For a Bit of Peace and Quiet.
Prompt: A&A: Valentine's day...but they have SIX kids. I can't imagine a lot of private time in there frompeasant007
Rating: PG I suppose.
Summary: Anthony and Alexandra return home after a night out on Valentine's Day.
Notes: Argh, I’m so rusty. I’m not overly pleased with how this all read once I got it down on paper. It sounded so much better in my head when I was thinking it up. It doesn’t seem to flow as well as I would like, at all. But then again, asking for prompts for this meme, is a way to get me back to writing, so hopefully that’s all to the good, and I’ll improve. That being said, this did turn out being longer than I thought it would, and could probably do with editing.
On to notes about the circumstances of this piece. It’s set not long after Zane joined the family (my time of year is all messed up I know, but that’s the constraints of the game for you), so all six of the children are at home. Their rough ages are: Bethany and Christopher, 17, coming up 18, David, 14, Sarah Jane, 12, Zane 10 and Mickey 9.
Word Count: 2041
Alexandra smiled her thanks as she took Anthony’s hand to step down from the carriage. They had had a wonderful evening. Dinner at their favourite restaurant, and then a trip to the Opera to see one of her favourite performances, and now, they were planning on spending the rest of the night in the privacy of their rooms. She took Anthony’s arm, and leant heavily on him as they walked across the pavement and up the steps to their house.
The entrance hall was blissfully quiet, only the ticking of the clock broke the silence. Alexandra unfastened the buttons of her coat, and turned so that Anthony could help her remove it. Anthony slipped it off her shoulders and started to kiss her neck. She closed her eyes and sighed, leaning back against him just as someone gave a discrete cough.
“Ah, Bates,” said Anthony as he straightened up, and finished removing Alexandra’s coat. “I am assuming that this evening has been a quiet one.”
“Indeed it has sir.” Bates reached out and took Alexandra’s coat from his employer, before helping Anthony remove his own.
Alexandra, making a mental note to speak to their butler about his quiet tread turned and smiled at the nanny standing in the doorway leading to the main hall. “How are the children Agatha?”
“All in bed madam,” she replied, her face etched in her customary look of disapproval. Alexandra had never quite managed to work out just what it was that Agatha disapproved of. Was it the number of children the Smiths had? The fact that the two eldest weren’t Anthony’s? Or disapproval of the activity that had led to five children in the first place? An activity that Alexandra hoped to spend the rest of the evening engaged in. Or maybe it was just the natural countenance of all Crumplebottom women. Alexandra supposed she would never know, and dismissing such thoughts, she nodded. “Thank you Agatha. Do not let me keep you from your bed.”
Agatha nodded once before heading off towards the servant’s stair and her room in the attic. Looking back to see Anthony locking the door and Bates extinguishing the hall lamps, Alexandra made her way to the foot of the main staircase, where she took a candle from the sideboard, and lit it, the gas lamps on the upper landings, would have been extinguished by now, and she did not relish making her way to her rooms in the dark.
She was halfway up the stair leading to the second floor when Anthony caught her up. “I should like to check on the children,” she said quietly. “To make sure they are all sleeping soundly.”
“Of course,” he murmured.
They made their way up to the third floor, and peeked round the doors to the bedrooms in turn. As Agatha had said, all four of the boys were in bed and fast asleep. Alexandra closed the last door and smiled up at her husband. He snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her into a deep kiss. They parted breathlessly, and Alexandra took Anthony’s hand before leading him down the stairs. They had reached the landing that led to their rooms when there was a thud and cry from the direction of the other bedroom on the floor. “I’ll go and see what is wrong,” said Alexandra with a sigh. Anthony nodded, and gave her hand a quick squeeze before heading off to their rooms.
The sight that confronted her when Alexandra opened the door to Sarah Jane’s bedroom was not encouraging. Sarah Jane herself was kneeling on the bed, her hands on her hips, and the bed clothes in disarray. Bethany was standing up by the settee in front of the large window overlooking the back garden, her little writing desk on the seat beside her, and the novel Alexandra knew Sarah Jane had been reading by her feet, the pages splayed open. Her face was arranged in an indignant scowl, and although she couldn’t see the other girl’s face, Alexandra knew her youngest daughter would be wearing an identical scowl.
“What is going on here?” she demanded of her daughters. Bethany started at the sound of her voice, her scowl relaxing into a look of surprise and guilt. “Mama, I did not realise that you and papa were home. I trust you had an enjoyable evening?”
“Up until this moment it has been. What are you both playing at?”
“I want to go to bed, but Bethany will not extinguish the lamp. She says she wants to do some writing,” explained Sarah Jane, petulantly.
“I am writing in my diary!” protested the older girl. “I will not be long, a few more minutes at most.”
“Unless you think of something else to write. Like those silly poems you think no one knows about. Really, it is so unseemly for a lady to be writing poetry!” For a young girl of twelve, Sarah Jane had a surprisingly mature outlook on life, and inflection to her voice.
“You have read my poems! How dare you! They are private!” Bethany balled her fists and took a step towards the bed
“Enough!” said Alexandra cutting across them both. “Bethany,” she said addressing her oldest daughter first, “it is far too late for you to be writing. If you wished to pen a diary entry, then you should have retired to do so earlier. It is especially true because you are currently sharing a room with your little sister. Put your writing things away, and get into bed.
“Sarah Jane,” she turned to the younger girl and noting the smug look on her face. “You should not read Bethany’s private letters. Not only is it the height of bad manners, but you may come across something you wished you hadn’t. Do not do so again. And there are no circumstances in which it is acceptable to throw a book at your sister. If you wish to sleep before Bethany is ready in future, then ask her nicely, and if she still resists, find myself, or your father, or Agatha. Now into bed, both of you.”
She stood by the door and watched while Sarah Jane clambered under the covers, and Bethany grudgingly put her writing desk away before following suit. It wasn’t until Bethany had extinguished the lamp that Alexandra put her hand on the door knob and opened it. “Goodnight girls, and don’t kick each other.” She closed the door behind her and smiled as she headed to her rooms.
Anthony had lit one of the lamps by the bed, but wasn’t in the room, so she went through into the dressing room. He was sitting, slouched in one of the chairs. He’d discarded his jacket, waistcoat, collar and tie, and his shirt was partially open. “Is everything well?” he asked as she marvelled at the fact the sight of him still caused her pulse to race, even after seventeen years of marriage.
“Yes, I believe I have dealt with it, and they should soon be asleep.” She put the candle on her dressing table, and unfastened her earrings. “Can you?” she gestured to her necklace, and Anthony was instantly there, his fingers tracing patterns on the back of her neck and shoulders. She shivered. He eventually unfastened the clasp, and she caught the necklace as it fell, and threw it towards her dressing table. It missed and landed on the floor, but she’d worry about it in the morning. She turned and smiled at him. She knew his features as well as she knew her own, and she loved every one of them. He kissed her, starting on the lips, before tracing his way down her neck. She let out a soft moan, one which was drowned out by a scream. They froze. “Was that?”
“I think it was.” Alexandra extracted herself from her husband’s embrace and ran out the room and up the stairs, nearly tripping over her skirts in the dark. Anthony was hot on her heels as she burst into the room Zane shared with David. David was sitting up in bed, his curly hair sticking out at all angles as he looked towards Zane’s bed, where the little boy was thrashing violently. “Zane, Zane, it is just a dream,” soothed Alexandra going to him. He stopped his thrashing as she put her arms around him. His screams abated, and were replaced with him muttering “Immamonster, Immamonster.”
“Shush, shush, shush Zane. Everything is fine. I am here. You are not a monster.” Zane looked up at her, and she realised that he wasn’t properly awake. “Promise?” he asked plaintively.
“I promise.” He relaxed back down against her and his breathing started to slow and deepen. She looked up at the door, as it opened and Mickey looked in, his eyes wide and his favourite stuffed animal dangling from his hand. Anthony noticing, reached down and took his hand. “Come on , Mickey, let me take you back to your bed. Zane has had a bad dream.” His eyes still on his adoptive brother, Mickey nodded and let his father lead him out of the room.
Eventually Zane’s breathing slowed enough to tell her that he was deep in a dreamless sleep. Alexandra smoothed his curls back from his forehead, and hesitated before kissing him and standing up. She turned to see David still sitting up in bed, looking at his adoptive brother. “David?” she asked.
“I’ve heard him whimpering in his sleep before, but never has he had a dream such as that,” he said.
“The poor boy,” whispered Alexandra. “I cannot help but wonder what his life was like before he joined our family, but I am also scared to know. I do not think that he has ever been made to feel loved or wanted.” She shook her head. “Ah well. It is late, and I should let you get back to sleep.” She tousled his curls, eliciting a long suffering look from him, and headed back down to her rooms.
Anthony was sitting on the bed when she entered. “How is Mickey?”
“Fine. He has gone back to sleep. Now where were we?”
“I believe that you were just about to help me undress.”
“Ah, of course.” He got up from the bed, as she turned her back to him. He was only partway through unhooking her bodice, having taken his time, when their door opened.
“What is it Mickey?” asked Alexandra recognising the small figure in the darkened doorway.
“I think that the monster from Zane’s dream is hiding in the house.”
Alexandra knelt down beside him, and brushed a lock of hair away from his eyes. “Oh darling, I promise you it is not. Zane had a bad dream about a monster elsewhere. There is no monster here.”
Anthony joined her. “I won’t allow them in, because I will not have anything that could harm my family in the house,” he said earnestly.
“Do you promise?”
“I promise. Why do we not check the house together, then I can show you?”
Mickey seemed to think about this before nodding. “I would like that. And if we find it, will you fight it?”
Anthony put his fists up. “Queensbury Rules.” This seemed to reassure Mickey, and he allowed Anthony to lead him out of the room.
When Anthony returned, Alexandra was laying on the bed, with no thought to her bustle or skirts. With a rueful sigh, Anthony flopped down next to her, and she immediately moved closer, snuggling into the warmth of his embrace. “I love our children more than my own life,” she said as she kissed him. “But sometimes, just sometimes, it would be nice to have a day, and a night, to ourselves, with no thought of them.”
He kissed her back. “We will go away next year,” he promised. “We will go to SimParis, or Simmouth, or even to that god-forsaken country pile my father left me. Somewhere where we can be alone. Now, are you planning on sleeping in that hideously expensive evening gown, or should I help you out of it?”
“Oh I definitely require your assistance with the bodice,” she replied with a sly smile.
fireflowersims.Title: Oh For a Bit of Peace and Quiet.
Prompt: A&A: Valentine's day...but they have SIX kids. I can't imagine a lot of private time in there from
peasant007Rating: PG I suppose.
Summary: Anthony and Alexandra return home after a night out on Valentine's Day.
Notes: Argh, I’m so rusty. I’m not overly pleased with how this all read once I got it down on paper. It sounded so much better in my head when I was thinking it up. It doesn’t seem to flow as well as I would like, at all. But then again, asking for prompts for this meme, is a way to get me back to writing, so hopefully that’s all to the good, and I’ll improve. That being said, this did turn out being longer than I thought it would, and could probably do with editing.
On to notes about the circumstances of this piece. It’s set not long after Zane joined the family (my time of year is all messed up I know, but that’s the constraints of the game for you), so all six of the children are at home. Their rough ages are: Bethany and Christopher, 17, coming up 18, David, 14, Sarah Jane, 12, Zane 10 and Mickey 9.
Word Count: 2041
Alexandra smiled her thanks as she took Anthony’s hand to step down from the carriage. They had had a wonderful evening. Dinner at their favourite restaurant, and then a trip to the Opera to see one of her favourite performances, and now, they were planning on spending the rest of the night in the privacy of their rooms. She took Anthony’s arm, and leant heavily on him as they walked across the pavement and up the steps to their house.
The entrance hall was blissfully quiet, only the ticking of the clock broke the silence. Alexandra unfastened the buttons of her coat, and turned so that Anthony could help her remove it. Anthony slipped it off her shoulders and started to kiss her neck. She closed her eyes and sighed, leaning back against him just as someone gave a discrete cough.
“Ah, Bates,” said Anthony as he straightened up, and finished removing Alexandra’s coat. “I am assuming that this evening has been a quiet one.”
“Indeed it has sir.” Bates reached out and took Alexandra’s coat from his employer, before helping Anthony remove his own.
Alexandra, making a mental note to speak to their butler about his quiet tread turned and smiled at the nanny standing in the doorway leading to the main hall. “How are the children Agatha?”
“All in bed madam,” she replied, her face etched in her customary look of disapproval. Alexandra had never quite managed to work out just what it was that Agatha disapproved of. Was it the number of children the Smiths had? The fact that the two eldest weren’t Anthony’s? Or disapproval of the activity that had led to five children in the first place? An activity that Alexandra hoped to spend the rest of the evening engaged in. Or maybe it was just the natural countenance of all Crumplebottom women. Alexandra supposed she would never know, and dismissing such thoughts, she nodded. “Thank you Agatha. Do not let me keep you from your bed.”
Agatha nodded once before heading off towards the servant’s stair and her room in the attic. Looking back to see Anthony locking the door and Bates extinguishing the hall lamps, Alexandra made her way to the foot of the main staircase, where she took a candle from the sideboard, and lit it, the gas lamps on the upper landings, would have been extinguished by now, and she did not relish making her way to her rooms in the dark.
She was halfway up the stair leading to the second floor when Anthony caught her up. “I should like to check on the children,” she said quietly. “To make sure they are all sleeping soundly.”
“Of course,” he murmured.
They made their way up to the third floor, and peeked round the doors to the bedrooms in turn. As Agatha had said, all four of the boys were in bed and fast asleep. Alexandra closed the last door and smiled up at her husband. He snaked his arm around her waist and pulled her into a deep kiss. They parted breathlessly, and Alexandra took Anthony’s hand before leading him down the stairs. They had reached the landing that led to their rooms when there was a thud and cry from the direction of the other bedroom on the floor. “I’ll go and see what is wrong,” said Alexandra with a sigh. Anthony nodded, and gave her hand a quick squeeze before heading off to their rooms.
The sight that confronted her when Alexandra opened the door to Sarah Jane’s bedroom was not encouraging. Sarah Jane herself was kneeling on the bed, her hands on her hips, and the bed clothes in disarray. Bethany was standing up by the settee in front of the large window overlooking the back garden, her little writing desk on the seat beside her, and the novel Alexandra knew Sarah Jane had been reading by her feet, the pages splayed open. Her face was arranged in an indignant scowl, and although she couldn’t see the other girl’s face, Alexandra knew her youngest daughter would be wearing an identical scowl.
“What is going on here?” she demanded of her daughters. Bethany started at the sound of her voice, her scowl relaxing into a look of surprise and guilt. “Mama, I did not realise that you and papa were home. I trust you had an enjoyable evening?”
“Up until this moment it has been. What are you both playing at?”
“I want to go to bed, but Bethany will not extinguish the lamp. She says she wants to do some writing,” explained Sarah Jane, petulantly.
“I am writing in my diary!” protested the older girl. “I will not be long, a few more minutes at most.”
“Unless you think of something else to write. Like those silly poems you think no one knows about. Really, it is so unseemly for a lady to be writing poetry!” For a young girl of twelve, Sarah Jane had a surprisingly mature outlook on life, and inflection to her voice.
“You have read my poems! How dare you! They are private!” Bethany balled her fists and took a step towards the bed
“Enough!” said Alexandra cutting across them both. “Bethany,” she said addressing her oldest daughter first, “it is far too late for you to be writing. If you wished to pen a diary entry, then you should have retired to do so earlier. It is especially true because you are currently sharing a room with your little sister. Put your writing things away, and get into bed.
“Sarah Jane,” she turned to the younger girl and noting the smug look on her face. “You should not read Bethany’s private letters. Not only is it the height of bad manners, but you may come across something you wished you hadn’t. Do not do so again. And there are no circumstances in which it is acceptable to throw a book at your sister. If you wish to sleep before Bethany is ready in future, then ask her nicely, and if she still resists, find myself, or your father, or Agatha. Now into bed, both of you.”
She stood by the door and watched while Sarah Jane clambered under the covers, and Bethany grudgingly put her writing desk away before following suit. It wasn’t until Bethany had extinguished the lamp that Alexandra put her hand on the door knob and opened it. “Goodnight girls, and don’t kick each other.” She closed the door behind her and smiled as she headed to her rooms.
Anthony had lit one of the lamps by the bed, but wasn’t in the room, so she went through into the dressing room. He was sitting, slouched in one of the chairs. He’d discarded his jacket, waistcoat, collar and tie, and his shirt was partially open. “Is everything well?” he asked as she marvelled at the fact the sight of him still caused her pulse to race, even after seventeen years of marriage.
“Yes, I believe I have dealt with it, and they should soon be asleep.” She put the candle on her dressing table, and unfastened her earrings. “Can you?” she gestured to her necklace, and Anthony was instantly there, his fingers tracing patterns on the back of her neck and shoulders. She shivered. He eventually unfastened the clasp, and she caught the necklace as it fell, and threw it towards her dressing table. It missed and landed on the floor, but she’d worry about it in the morning. She turned and smiled at him. She knew his features as well as she knew her own, and she loved every one of them. He kissed her, starting on the lips, before tracing his way down her neck. She let out a soft moan, one which was drowned out by a scream. They froze. “Was that?”
“I think it was.” Alexandra extracted herself from her husband’s embrace and ran out the room and up the stairs, nearly tripping over her skirts in the dark. Anthony was hot on her heels as she burst into the room Zane shared with David. David was sitting up in bed, his curly hair sticking out at all angles as he looked towards Zane’s bed, where the little boy was thrashing violently. “Zane, Zane, it is just a dream,” soothed Alexandra going to him. He stopped his thrashing as she put her arms around him. His screams abated, and were replaced with him muttering “Immamonster, Immamonster.”
“Shush, shush, shush Zane. Everything is fine. I am here. You are not a monster.” Zane looked up at her, and she realised that he wasn’t properly awake. “Promise?” he asked plaintively.
“I promise.” He relaxed back down against her and his breathing started to slow and deepen. She looked up at the door, as it opened and Mickey looked in, his eyes wide and his favourite stuffed animal dangling from his hand. Anthony noticing, reached down and took his hand. “Come on , Mickey, let me take you back to your bed. Zane has had a bad dream.” His eyes still on his adoptive brother, Mickey nodded and let his father lead him out of the room.
Eventually Zane’s breathing slowed enough to tell her that he was deep in a dreamless sleep. Alexandra smoothed his curls back from his forehead, and hesitated before kissing him and standing up. She turned to see David still sitting up in bed, looking at his adoptive brother. “David?” she asked.
“I’ve heard him whimpering in his sleep before, but never has he had a dream such as that,” he said.
“The poor boy,” whispered Alexandra. “I cannot help but wonder what his life was like before he joined our family, but I am also scared to know. I do not think that he has ever been made to feel loved or wanted.” She shook her head. “Ah well. It is late, and I should let you get back to sleep.” She tousled his curls, eliciting a long suffering look from him, and headed back down to her rooms.
Anthony was sitting on the bed when she entered. “How is Mickey?”
“Fine. He has gone back to sleep. Now where were we?”
“I believe that you were just about to help me undress.”
“Ah, of course.” He got up from the bed, as she turned her back to him. He was only partway through unhooking her bodice, having taken his time, when their door opened.
“What is it Mickey?” asked Alexandra recognising the small figure in the darkened doorway.
“I think that the monster from Zane’s dream is hiding in the house.”
Alexandra knelt down beside him, and brushed a lock of hair away from his eyes. “Oh darling, I promise you it is not. Zane had a bad dream about a monster elsewhere. There is no monster here.”
Anthony joined her. “I won’t allow them in, because I will not have anything that could harm my family in the house,” he said earnestly.
“Do you promise?”
“I promise. Why do we not check the house together, then I can show you?”
Mickey seemed to think about this before nodding. “I would like that. And if we find it, will you fight it?”
Anthony put his fists up. “Queensbury Rules.” This seemed to reassure Mickey, and he allowed Anthony to lead him out of the room.
When Anthony returned, Alexandra was laying on the bed, with no thought to her bustle or skirts. With a rueful sigh, Anthony flopped down next to her, and she immediately moved closer, snuggling into the warmth of his embrace. “I love our children more than my own life,” she said as she kissed him. “But sometimes, just sometimes, it would be nice to have a day, and a night, to ourselves, with no thought of them.”
He kissed her back. “We will go away next year,” he promised. “We will go to SimParis, or Simmouth, or even to that god-forsaken country pile my father left me. Somewhere where we can be alone. Now, are you planning on sleeping in that hideously expensive evening gown, or should I help you out of it?”
“Oh I definitely require your assistance with the bodice,” she replied with a sly smile.
