'Oh, Wood, you flatter me.' His voice is sarcastic, though I can hear the honeyed tones underneath.
'I should hope so,' I shoot back playfully, running my hand through his soft curls as he lies beside me on the sofa. 'I'm your husband.'
'Hmm. That you are, yes.' He flings his arm across my middle, resting his head on my chest.
'You okay, Markie?' I ask, a smirk playing at my lips.
'I told you not to call me that,' he grumbles, except he's not actually cross.
'Okay, Markle-Sparkle.' I'm grinning like mad, getting a kick out of seeing him react this way.
'Stop it, Wood,' he mutters, tangling our legs together.
'I have, my dear Flintie.'
'You have not. Olivia.' He knows that this is the blow needed to end this.
'Hey now—'
'Troubled, are we, Woodward?' The smirk is practically audible.
I chuckle. 'Not at all, dear Schmarcus. I'm merely flattered.'
With that, he sits up, and his determination to have the last word is evident in the glimmer in his eyes. He takes my face in his hands, capturing my lips with his. His kiss is rough and I smirk at his competitiveness.
I won't be defeated by a Slytherin (your Slytherin, my brain adds). I sit up, my mouth never leaving his, and push him onto his back. I break the kiss to beam at him.
'I told you,' I whisper. 'I don't get defeated by Slytherin.'
'I can see that,' he murmurs, reaching up to swipe my hair off my forehead. 'Well. You've certainly defeated this Slytherin.'
'I love you, Marcus,' I tell him softly.
I hear his sigh of relief at hearing his name. 'I love you too, Ollie. I love you so.'
I lay my head on his shoulder, closing my eyes. The last thing I'm aware of before I succumb to a slumber, is Marcus' fingers threading through mine and a soft kiss on the temple as we both welcome the night.