Who: traveling Rose picks up a stray
What: vacation!
Where: british virgin islands
When: today!
Rose pulled her properly restored blonde hair over her shoulder, bunching it in the crook of her neck to ensure no unseemly tanlines would be made. Laying out on her stomach, she wanted to bake in this tropical sun, let it burn away the past five turbulent months of her life that she could honestly say she had no desire remembering. Wasn’t that what impromptu vacationing was for? To escape the strain that was everyday reality? Yes, definitely.
Being here, on a pleasantly random beach in the Virgin Islands, she could already feel all her past troubles begin to wash away. Rose was glad, dare she say pleased, that things had turned out the way they had within her last days in Istanbul. Because, once it had been officially deemed time to return home, such a startling dread had taken over her. She realized did not want to return to Great Britain, return to the months she had previously known of practical self-loathing and perturbedness. The thought of going back to that was deafening, so when fate seemingly intervened at her portkey, she jumped at the chance of taking it.
Was it a bit reckless to be here, now, with him? Octavius was, Rose could undoubtedly state, the only reason as to why she even considered coming here, and now that she was, she couldn’t help but think... would this be enough to cement a relationship that despite ending many times, never truly seemed to be over?
She let out a long breath, and squeezed her eyes shut. Urging herself to leave these thoughts behind, for they would do no good simply being thought, Rose instead pressed her face to the soft towel underneath her, and focused on the calming sound of water hitting sand.
The repetitive sounds effectively calmed her so much that only one eye lazily opened as she felt a wandering hand trickle across her back. Though, it wasn’t until it began indiscreetly playing with the top clasp of her bathing suit that she even felt moved to acknowledge it. Shifting just enough, Rose jerked her back up suddenly to bump his hand away.
“You’ll need permission for that,” she murmured, already lowering herself back close to the towel. An amused hum escaped her.
His mouth pulled up in a smirk at her words while he resisted the urge to tell her he was simply, innocently, ensuring she hadn't fallen asleep in the sun. It wasn't a very good lie, after all.
The book he was reading lay facedown on the blanket, forgotten, as his interest temporarily waned. His eyes had been closing as the sun beat down on them, the lethargy inherent in the warm climate beginning to seep in. He might have decided to take a proper vacation, but he didn't intend to sleep it away. Not when much better pursuits lay right beside him.
No, as he turned his attention to Rose, he felt much lighter and freer, more playful, than he could remember feeling in a long time. Too long a time. The last year had been a turbulent one—full of mistakes and regret. He was sorry for the way he had acted, and sorrier still for some of the things he had done—some to Rose, even. As everyone began to pack up from the conclusion of the European Cup, the thought of going back to Britain, back to the place where all these awful things had transpired, was unpalatable. Which was why he didn't go back, back to where he was sure he'd feel tired and overworked.
This was, he decided, a well-deserved holiday.
Because it was indeed a well-deserved holiday, he replaced his hand with his lips, kissing lazily beneath the band he'd been, he assumed, so half-heartedly dissuaded from a moment ago. Sliding his hand under her midriff, he nudged Rose over until she rolled to face him.
"Ma belle fleur," Axe said, all lazy innocence as he held himself up with his palms, manfully ignoring her laughter and the desire to join in it, "if you would be so kind…"
Politefully, artfully as he had phrased the request, it was still (thoughtlessly, he believed) denied. Still, he felt no particular sting, as she soon thereafter chose to soothe it away with her lips.
