I just really really like popcorn.
I also had a lengthy discussion with a friend about the kind of films Bernie and Serena would watch, as well which horror scene would be best. I've never seen Woman In Black, I'm too much of a wimp for that, hence the amount of FLUFF! However, I did watch the scene described for the research into this fic. It scared me.
The film referred to as Bernie's choosing is called 'Suite Française' and I have it on good authority that it is a highly recommended watch. Anyway, enjoy!
"What'd I miss?" Bernie mumbled, crunching on the overestimated mouthful of popcorn she'd sneakily shoved before turning the corner to Serena's view and jumping to the side suddenly, narrowly missed the chance for the contents of the huge bowl to slide too far up the metal sides and fly majestically across the floor.
"Not much considering I couldn't work out where the bloody pause button was until I heard the popping out there." Serena mused, tossing the unfamiliar remote across to the armchair, it bouncing against the plump cushion and falling to the floor with a thud. "Christ, Bern, that bowl is meant for salad, not to feed the three thousand with bloody popcorn- how much did you make?"
"We've had it since October, Serena." Bernie scoffed, prompting with her hand for her partner to move from the lazed position sprawled across the entire sofa. "And besides, you've not used this for salad ever. It's so much more effective for popcorn." She justified, hugging it tighter and turning away when Serena moved forward for it. When Bernie had offered to make the next lot of snacks, Serena had been delighted and distraught in equal measures for the grumble to her belly called for attention but she'd been so comfortable…
It had all started when Morven had brought in a literal bucket of popcorn onto AAU, after discovering her old popcorn maker (childhood saviour, she'd called it) in the storage she'd been reluctant to venture through since Arthur's death. The task had turned out to be very positive, though not so productive, as she had explained to Serena the next day, turning up cheerfully to the nurse's station and planting the bulky container to the desk.
Turns out the confectionary was a winner by the whole ward, especially by Serena who had discovered how much healthier it was compared to the usual crisps, and even more so when she learned of the shiraz flavouring recipe during her break. This was when she broke.
"Bernie. We need a popcorn maker." Was more of a demand than a suggestion, considering it was boomed across the ward, and the smile hinted to a pre-determined delight than prospect. Bernie didn't need any more persuading than that.
So here they were, on one of the rare occasions of mutual time off ward duties: no out-of-hours-didn't-sign-up-for-this-too meetings, no tragic incident in the hospital's proximity that teared the trauma team away from the housebound comforts, not even an unavoidable family event that hauled them from their sanctuary. It was a unique moment of bliss. However, every silver lining had a cloud, and the initial plans of a drive out to the coast had been halted at the 'funny noise the brakes made', according to Serena. Once pronounced cactus by a frustrated Bernie, they'd retreated to the house and had somehow ended up changing back into comfortable clothing and migrating to the front room, debating whether to make it official and declare a film day. The motion was carried readily, particularly when Serena discovered the kernels in the cupboard- that was game over.
Two films down, the first of Bernie's choosing- a romantic war film set in the 1940s- and Serena had been overtly reluctant to begin with, but had ended up crying and laughing with more volume than the one who had actually opted to watch it in the first place. Serena had got her own back on the emotional rollercoaster she'd been subject to enduring by adamantly selecting Mamma Mia next, and to Bernie's dismay, the singalong version, which meant the excuse of unknown lyrics was well and truly below the waterline, sinking rapidly. With the same change of heart that Serena had previously felt, by the first few chords of Take a Chance On Me Bernie was as impassioned by the melodies and the pair falling into a perfect duet, just like their practice on AAU.
They'd settled on a horror now; the genre being Bernie's choice and Serena specifying which particular thriller she preferred the look of. All had been going well, and though Serena had held a slightly tightened grip to Bernie's arm on a couple occasions, she had managed to refrain from burying her head in her side for a whole twenty minutes- a triumph for Serena Campbell. Not much scared Bernie; it took a lot to make her flinch, let alone truly invoke fear. Possibly her army conditioning, but more likely the dark nights she would spend watching terrifying old-age horrors in the speckled black and white, alone. Of course, it had been nerving the first few times, but she'd eventually worked around the idea of fiction, knowing that the fantasy couldn't hurt her.
Serena, on the other hand, had no inclination to endure the pulse-racing, anxiety-inducing works; she drew the line at late reruns of Cold Blood in the dark and had often woken up in those nights to check the back door, images of a hefty man in a vivid yellow raincoat traipsing around the garden being enough to unsettle her until she resolved the apprehension by inspecting every room, peeping through the curtains to the lamp-lit streets.
Bernie had stolen the bowl back now, half empty in record time. Regardless of proportion, the remaining content was still quite of a considerable quantity, though Bernie had nearly broken a tooth on a stray, unpopped kernel in absent-minded munching, totally engrossed in the scene before her.
In watching him lift the lost, ruffled chick back to its nest, Bernie hadn't one glimpse of an underlying air of suspicion, as with most stereotypical horror scenes, where the eerie build up and frantic, disjointed tunes caused prediction to the next jumpy motion. So when the tranquil melody continued in the background, much like that of a period drama's riverside walk in life contemplation, Bernie hadn't expected a squawking crow to burst through the window. And in doing so, she violently juddered, muscles tensing across her whole body. Like a shot of electricity passing through a current, her shock transferred to Serena, who revolted away from her partner by a jump.
"Jesus Bernie!" Serena managed in a heightened whisper, hand clasped to her heavy beating heart, pounding viciously against her ribs, thumping strongly through to her palm.
Unfortunately, it wasn't just the women who had received the surprise, as Bernie's precipitous reaction had caused a spectacular shower of popcorn and heavy dusting of sugar to scatter onto the sofa and surrounding carpet. Bernie sat, both motionless and unable to utter a word, frozen for a moment, before being prompted to respond by a solid swat to her arm.
"Big macho army medic bollocks," Serena scorned, prising the fairly empty bowl from Bernie's clutch and scooping the remainder out into her mouth, carefree if Bernie didn't know better.
"That wasn't fair! I didn't expect it!" Bernie protested, surveying the mess she'd made.
"Darling, it's a horror film. It's meant to scare you and surprise you. Not to flash a bloody warning before each fright." Serena's expression had softened to a fond smile, the kind of sympathy Bernie had got the time she'd forgotten the toast the bread before putting the cheese on it, or the time she'd jammed her hand in the door because she'd got her coat caught on the handle. It wasn't quite forgiveness in this situation, but it was much more welcomed than the fury she'd instantly anticipated.
"Not the point," Bernie grumbled, deciding to brave it and brush the rest of the crumbs and sticky residue from the sugary sprinkle onto the floor. Easier to deal with in one place.
"Note to self, Campbell. Stick to romances and musicals. Once the popcorn is out of the way, that is." Serena hummed, following Bernie's movements in standing up and head for the hoover.