Their Little Games

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Random drabble I typed up into LJ. Post series, non AU.

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He watches her from his place by the door, leaning his shoulder against the wood as he always does. And he knows she sees him, knows she senses him, but knows also that she will continue to act as though she doesn't.

It's her little game, after all.

So when he casually tells her it's time for dinner, please come in before that talking stuffed animal eats everything, she mock jumps in surprise, turning around to look at him with a big beaming smile, her still-short auburn hair whipping around to stick to her damp cheeks. Even when it's this hot out, she insists on keeping up with her flowers. Flower would be angry at her otherwise, she jokes, but he wonders just how much is truth and how much isn't.

And when she stands up on wobbly legs, holding a hand to her slightly rounded tummy, he forgets all about Cards and Guardian Beasts and walks over to his wife to help her inside because she's silly and knelt too long and her legs fell asleep.

No one said the strongest magician in the world had to have great common sense.

Not that he minds.

Not that she minds.

They leave the flowers to the heat, finding their way back into the coolness of the house where a yellow stuffed teddybear can be heard singing at the top of his lungs about being cooler than everyone else, especially some brat who can't cook udon right.

It's their little game, after all.