A/N: This prompt comes from an alternative list I found, and isn't for one of the official Flufftober prompts. This one is also very short, but I love it all the same because it's just sheer dumbassery.

One thing that amused Theodora, upon returning to Port Royal with her shiny new husband, was how little things had changed. Okay, everything had changed, short of Beckett painting the town the colours of the Union Jack and erecting statues of himself all over Port Royal, it could hardly change more. Said statues would likely not be to scale.

But there were glimpses of the routine they'd fallen into when they'd last lived here with one another…just less bullshit in the way. They were themselves as they had wished to be, all that time ago. As much as they could be, circumstances considered. For instance, they still read together in the evenings – when time and energy permitted. But now they did so on the same sofa, with her legs strewn across his lap, his free hand nestled beneath her skirts so that his fingers could trace lazy circles up and down the inside of her calve. Either of which would have been enough to induce heart attacks for the both of them back then, wound tight as they'd been where the other was concerned.

Although she could hardly pretend it didn't induce a few flutters now.

Furthermore, now she could annoy him much more than she'd been able to back then without just being downright rude. That was pretty nice, too. Which was precisely why she was setting out to do it now – although it wouldn't do if he caught on too quickly.

"Can you tell me what this word means?" she asked.

It wasn't even immediately clear that she was playing daft – for she'd arrived in the past just early enough for lots of words, and the spellings of those words, to be unrecognisable to the modern eye. Leaning forward, he peered at the word directly above her thumb nail. To his credit, his eyes did flicker towards her suspiciously, but it scarcely lasted a second – maybe fearing she was being genuine and without any wish to mock her in that case.

"Providence."

"Oh. It's spelled differently back home. My mistake."

He nodded as if to say no matter and she settled back down, his fingertips resumed their thoughtless circles as he returned to his own book. She counted to twenty before she spoke again.

"What about this one?"

This time she was given no such benefit of the doubt.

"…Continual. As in, you are a continual menace."

"James Norrington!"

"That word is but two words after the last one – it did not take you a half a minute to get through those two words alone."

"They're very tricky words!"

"'Is the'?"

"Is the what?"

"Theodora."

She grinned, returning her eyes to the page. This time she counted to thirty – a feat of self-mastery, indeed.

"And this one?"

He rolled his eyes, and read the rest of the sentence in its entirey, likely thinking he was saving himself from a few minutes of harassment by doing so. Which was very cute of him.

"'And Exact Guide of her Executive Power.'"

Theo beamed.

"Oh, that was good! Well done! While you're here, you may as well read the rest of the paragraph. The page, even. Go mad! Wow me."

"Theodora," the bite was taken from the groan by the way he was visibly fighting a smile.

"James."

"I'm not reading this book to you."

Theo groaned as if wounded.

"But you have that voice! It's not fair to keep it all to yourself."

"I don't, I use it to shout at very incompetent men every day," he countered drily.

"But never me. I feel neglected," she complained in return.

"Because I don't shout at you?" he stared at her in exasperated disbelief.

Theo chose not to answer, artfully deflecting instead.

"There's a whole paragraph in Latin coming up, I bet you'd sound lovely speaking Latin!"

"According to you, I sound lovely speaking any language."

"So I'll settle for just the English bits, then."

"Sola lingua bona est lingua mortua."

Theo had no idea what he was saying then, but she was fairly certain that he was either insulting her, or just showing off. Either way, it didn't change her response.

"I love you, too."

In response to her profession, something in his face softened - only a little - in such a way that almost had her feeling guilty for weaponising it. But she so enjoyed finally being able to say it. For it to no longer be a secret, nor a problem. She grinned as he plucked the book from her hand with a beleaguered sigh and began to read aloud to her. The way his hand began to creep upwards from her calve was just an added bonus.