Prompt: A kiss we had to wait for. G.
...
They haven't touched each other in weeks, at least not in any way that counts. He returned, with his tail between his legs, begging on the verge of tears to be allowed back in.
Her mother thinks she's an imbecile.
She probably is.
Remus sleeps on an uncomfortable, lumpy bed in the spare room. Tonks almost pities him.
Almost.
It's Hallowe'en and the little life inside her has grown. Her stomach isn't flat anymore. She's looking at her reflection in the mirror, rubbing her hand over the tiny bump, imagining who's growing within.
She sees him in the distance, in the reflection. His warm brown eyes are tired, but alert, and focused on her.
It's hard to remain furious with him when he looks at her like that–like she's the only thing that matters.
"You can touch it, if you want," she offers, pointing at her belly. "Not much to feel–"
He's there, on his knees, hand pressed against her abdomen. An awestruck look is in his eyes.
"Can I," he gulps and looks away, "can I listen?"
"Er, okay?"
Then his ear is against her belly and his breathing evens.
"Can you hear anything?"
He nods against her. "Thump-thump-thump. It's faster than yours."
It's moments like this that she remembers why she fell in love with him. The wonder and awe, the simple adoration … it's Remus, raw, loving, and human.
"Get up," she says. A flash of hurt crosses his face.
She takes his cheek and stands up on her toes, pressing the lightest kiss to his mouth.
"I'm not ready for more," she tells him, as his fingers come up to graze his lips. "You'll have to keep waiting."
Remus nods and puts his hand back on her stomach.
"I'll wait as long as it takes."
