I took Ewan on my knee. "Son, Mummy and I have some things to tell you."
Satine reached out and held my hand lightly. "You like surprises, don't you baby?" she asked our son, and he nodded his head wildly. "Well. . . me and your Daddy are going to do something that is going to change our lives forever. We're going to get married. Do you know what that is?"
"No Mummy," he whispered.
"Well. . . it means that Daddy is going to live with us," our son's face creaped into a smile, "and you get your own room." His smiled turned into a grin.
"Really? Really?!" he demanded, tugging on my shirt collar.
I kissed his forehead. "Really really," I whispered. "But that's not all. . ."
"Ewan," Satine said, taking her son's hand, "you're also going to have a little brother or little sister."
"When?" he asked.
"In about eight months."
"It takes THAT long?!" he said.
I laughed. "It takes a while to get here."
"Well where are you getting it from?"
"From Mummy," I said, wrapping my arms around his waist. "Mummy is going to. . . look different for a while, but it's the same old Mummy."
"Look different? What do you mean?"
"Well, my tummy is going to get bigger," Satine said, touching his face. "To make room for your new brother or sister."
"It's. . . in you? How did it get there?"
Satine blushed and lowered her head. "Lets. . . leave that question unanswered for now, how about?"
He pouted.
"I love you," she said, taking his hand.
"I know," he sighed.
"Are you hungry?" she asked the both of us. "I can whip of a good batch of. . ." She thought for a moment and then her head fell into her hands.
"Darling, what's wrong?" I asked, touching her arm. "Are you alright?"
"Yes, I am. . . it's just. . . I can't cook." A tear fell down from her eye. "Marie always took care of us and she did the cooking. . . I can't cook! Christian, you're marrying a woman who can't cook!"
I laughed and brushed a curl away from her eyes. "Well I'm sure it's not an omen."
She suddenly sprung up and pointed a finger in the air. "But wait! There is SOMETHING!"
She turned her back and left the room. Seconds later Satine stuck her head in by the door and said, "Ewan, Daddy will help you move some of your stuff out of our room into Marie's old one while I make us something."
Ewan groaned and got up from my lap and began to trudge up the stairs.
"Oh come on, moving your stuff isn't that bad. . . it can't be cool to have your own room."
"It's not that, Daddy." He looked behind him, to the left and then to the right, and not seeing his mother whispered, "Have you ever had Mummy's food?"
I laughed, and then remembered burnt bread, sandwiches heaping with a little bit of everything, stale cookies. . . the list went on in my head and I sighed. "Oh yeah, I almost forgot. . ."
We both laughed and made out way into the master bedroom, commenting every few minutes on the strange aroma coming from downstairs. Ewan and I worked in and out, packing up his clothes and toys and transporting them into Marie's old room.
Ewan looked down at his bed. "Daddy, how are we going to move that?"
I scratched my head for a second, glancing from the small door frame to the large bed frame. "Um. . . well. . . that's a good question."
"Dinner's ready!" Satine called up the stairs.
I watched our son skip down the stairs and followed after him slowly.
"Ok, so this is a first-in-a-long-time concoction made by. . ." Satine swung open the dinning room doors, ". . .me!"
The food at the table looked. . . to good to be made by her. Salad greens, sliced fruits and sausages.
"You. . . made this?" Maybe I had been wrong and she got better.
"Course I made it!" She gestured to the chairs. "Come. Sit. Eat!"
I leaned against the wall, soaking up the scene in front of me. My son, kicking his short legs off the end of the large chair as he picked at his plate with a fork. Satine wrapped her arms around my waist, making it even perfect.
"You like what you see?" she whispered.
I nuzzled her cheek. "I love what I see."
That night, when we had Ewan sleeping in his new room, Christian and I went outside to sit on the back porch swing and gaze out at the pond, shining in the moonlight.
I sighed and snuggled closer to him. "This is so. . ."
He kissed my hair. "Delightful? Delicious? Lovely?"
I laughed slightly. "It's de-lovely."
Christian entwined his fingers with mine, helping me to my feet.
He smiled. "The night is young," he sang, his rich voice sending me into heaven, "the skies are clear, and if you want to go walking, dear. . ." He led me off the porch and we strolled around the pond.
"It's delightful, it's delicious, it's de-lovely. I understand the reason why you're sentimental, 'cause so am I. You can tell at a glance what a swell night this is for romance. You can hear, dear Mother Nature murmuring low 'let yourself go'. So please be sweet, my chickadee," he tapped my chin and I laughed as his arms draped over my hips and brought his lips close to mine. "And when I kiss you, just say to me, 'it's delightful, it's delicious, it's delectable, it's delirious." He spun me around. "It's dilemma, it's de-limit, it's deluxe, it's de-lovely!' "
My smile faded as his lips came, slowly, to mine. And then it happened, and I was rushed with a wave of warmth and my hands found the back of his neck. I pulled him closer to me, opening my mouth wider to give in to him, to find every happiness there was just in his hot, fiery kiss.
I finally pulled away and he swayed, sighing. "Well that was nice. . ." he whispered.
"The night is young, the skies are clear," I said to him, caressing his cheek. "And if you want to go walkin', dear it's delightful, it's delicious, it's de-lovely. I understand the reason why you're sentimental, 'cause so am I. It's delightful, it's delicious, it's de-lovely."
His cheek leaned against mine as we swayed slightly. "You can tell at a glance what a swell night this is for romance," he sang. "You can hear, dear Mother Nature murmuring low 'Let yourself go'."
I laughed and kissed his nose. "So please be sweet, my chickadee, and when I kiss ya just say to me, 'it's delightful, it's delicious, it's. . ."
His lips lowered to mine and I found heaven, compacted into him. His hands sent tingles all through my body as he touched me, and I whispered to the moonlight, "It's de-lovely." ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Disclaimer: I do not own Moulin Rouge, not even Christian. ::sigh::
Author's Note: Ok, now that SCHOOL IS OUT(!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) I finally have time to write this. I just love fluff. . . more to come later. Hope you all are feeling fine!
SONGS USED: 'It's De-lovely' (by Cole Porter) from Anything Goes
Satine reached out and held my hand lightly. "You like surprises, don't you baby?" she asked our son, and he nodded his head wildly. "Well. . . me and your Daddy are going to do something that is going to change our lives forever. We're going to get married. Do you know what that is?"
"No Mummy," he whispered.
"Well. . . it means that Daddy is going to live with us," our son's face creaped into a smile, "and you get your own room." His smiled turned into a grin.
"Really? Really?!" he demanded, tugging on my shirt collar.
I kissed his forehead. "Really really," I whispered. "But that's not all. . ."
"Ewan," Satine said, taking her son's hand, "you're also going to have a little brother or little sister."
"When?" he asked.
"In about eight months."
"It takes THAT long?!" he said.
I laughed. "It takes a while to get here."
"Well where are you getting it from?"
"From Mummy," I said, wrapping my arms around his waist. "Mummy is going to. . . look different for a while, but it's the same old Mummy."
"Look different? What do you mean?"
"Well, my tummy is going to get bigger," Satine said, touching his face. "To make room for your new brother or sister."
"It's. . . in you? How did it get there?"
Satine blushed and lowered her head. "Lets. . . leave that question unanswered for now, how about?"
He pouted.
"I love you," she said, taking his hand.
"I know," he sighed.
"Are you hungry?" she asked the both of us. "I can whip of a good batch of. . ." She thought for a moment and then her head fell into her hands.
"Darling, what's wrong?" I asked, touching her arm. "Are you alright?"
"Yes, I am. . . it's just. . . I can't cook." A tear fell down from her eye. "Marie always took care of us and she did the cooking. . . I can't cook! Christian, you're marrying a woman who can't cook!"
I laughed and brushed a curl away from her eyes. "Well I'm sure it's not an omen."
She suddenly sprung up and pointed a finger in the air. "But wait! There is SOMETHING!"
She turned her back and left the room. Seconds later Satine stuck her head in by the door and said, "Ewan, Daddy will help you move some of your stuff out of our room into Marie's old one while I make us something."
Ewan groaned and got up from my lap and began to trudge up the stairs.
"Oh come on, moving your stuff isn't that bad. . . it can't be cool to have your own room."
"It's not that, Daddy." He looked behind him, to the left and then to the right, and not seeing his mother whispered, "Have you ever had Mummy's food?"
I laughed, and then remembered burnt bread, sandwiches heaping with a little bit of everything, stale cookies. . . the list went on in my head and I sighed. "Oh yeah, I almost forgot. . ."
We both laughed and made out way into the master bedroom, commenting every few minutes on the strange aroma coming from downstairs. Ewan and I worked in and out, packing up his clothes and toys and transporting them into Marie's old room.
Ewan looked down at his bed. "Daddy, how are we going to move that?"
I scratched my head for a second, glancing from the small door frame to the large bed frame. "Um. . . well. . . that's a good question."
"Dinner's ready!" Satine called up the stairs.
I watched our son skip down the stairs and followed after him slowly.
"Ok, so this is a first-in-a-long-time concoction made by. . ." Satine swung open the dinning room doors, ". . .me!"
The food at the table looked. . . to good to be made by her. Salad greens, sliced fruits and sausages.
"You. . . made this?" Maybe I had been wrong and she got better.
"Course I made it!" She gestured to the chairs. "Come. Sit. Eat!"
I leaned against the wall, soaking up the scene in front of me. My son, kicking his short legs off the end of the large chair as he picked at his plate with a fork. Satine wrapped her arms around my waist, making it even perfect.
"You like what you see?" she whispered.
I nuzzled her cheek. "I love what I see."
That night, when we had Ewan sleeping in his new room, Christian and I went outside to sit on the back porch swing and gaze out at the pond, shining in the moonlight.
I sighed and snuggled closer to him. "This is so. . ."
He kissed my hair. "Delightful? Delicious? Lovely?"
I laughed slightly. "It's de-lovely."
Christian entwined his fingers with mine, helping me to my feet.
He smiled. "The night is young," he sang, his rich voice sending me into heaven, "the skies are clear, and if you want to go walking, dear. . ." He led me off the porch and we strolled around the pond.
"It's delightful, it's delicious, it's de-lovely. I understand the reason why you're sentimental, 'cause so am I. You can tell at a glance what a swell night this is for romance. You can hear, dear Mother Nature murmuring low 'let yourself go'. So please be sweet, my chickadee," he tapped my chin and I laughed as his arms draped over my hips and brought his lips close to mine. "And when I kiss you, just say to me, 'it's delightful, it's delicious, it's delectable, it's delirious." He spun me around. "It's dilemma, it's de-limit, it's deluxe, it's de-lovely!' "
My smile faded as his lips came, slowly, to mine. And then it happened, and I was rushed with a wave of warmth and my hands found the back of his neck. I pulled him closer to me, opening my mouth wider to give in to him, to find every happiness there was just in his hot, fiery kiss.
I finally pulled away and he swayed, sighing. "Well that was nice. . ." he whispered.
"The night is young, the skies are clear," I said to him, caressing his cheek. "And if you want to go walkin', dear it's delightful, it's delicious, it's de-lovely. I understand the reason why you're sentimental, 'cause so am I. It's delightful, it's delicious, it's de-lovely."
His cheek leaned against mine as we swayed slightly. "You can tell at a glance what a swell night this is for romance," he sang. "You can hear, dear Mother Nature murmuring low 'Let yourself go'."
I laughed and kissed his nose. "So please be sweet, my chickadee, and when I kiss ya just say to me, 'it's delightful, it's delicious, it's. . ."
His lips lowered to mine and I found heaven, compacted into him. His hands sent tingles all through my body as he touched me, and I whispered to the moonlight, "It's de-lovely." ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ---------- Disclaimer: I do not own Moulin Rouge, not even Christian. ::sigh::
Author's Note: Ok, now that SCHOOL IS OUT(!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!) I finally have time to write this. I just love fluff. . . more to come later. Hope you all are feeling fine!
SONGS USED: 'It's De-lovely' (by Cole Porter) from Anything Goes