“Outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend. Inside of a dog it's too dark to read.”

(ooc: totally just realized they're both in Alice's pajamas still XDDDDD)


Despite himself, Oliver could only laugh at Alice's suggestions, shaking his head right back at her. When she got up, seemingly in search of the werewolf that Oliver had not done a brilliant job of being friends with lately, he turned his gaze on Eric again. The little black and white dog tilted his head to the side at Lemon's approach, but sat up in surprise when she pushed out her tongue to swipe it over his nose. He was curious, now. She was like her mistress in a way, though Eric could not have known it, given how Alice had essentially jumped up and wound herself around Oliver that morning. The dog was not quite as comprehending as his master, and gave Lemon an incredibly impressive mirror of Oliver's most confused expression. The man himself gave a laugh, drawing the attention of the dogs before he left them to try and actually interact on their own.

Oliver walked into the kitchen, catching sight of Alice's warm cheeks, and registered that it would be impossibly easy to mix her up a bit more. Glad that they were separated from Ariel by the bar and its stool chairs, he moved to stand behind her. He wound his arms around her middle and uttered into her ear: "What do you think, babe? My kitchen next time?"

And with that, he stepped away to let her consider it, but not before tickling down her stomach teasingly. Hopefully she wouldn't be too upset with him. After all, he had all of the cheesy gestures down, didn't he? A moment of wondering if Thalia would be shaking her head at him drew Oliver out of the room, but then Ariel asked for an explanation and about what they wanted to eat, and he supposed that she would have just been happy for him, and that was certainly good enough for him.

But how did he explain what happened, really, without offending Alice or making anyone uncomfortable? Oliver glanced to his girl as though she could silently tell him what would be best. In the end, he supposed vague would be the best option. So he pulled out one of the stools and sat, resting his forearms on the bar.

"Well, Mum asked me to take Dad some lunch at work, and I was leaving when I saw Alice there, so I... well, attempted to say hello. It didn't quite work, but I think she got the gist," he grinned over at her, his smile not even fading as he looked back at Ariel. It felt a little bit odd, of course, to feign that they were entirely normal. But Oliver had missed it, and he would admit it if he had to, but hopefully he wouldn't be prodded into it.

There would never be a point in time when Alice would ever be luckier than when Ollie’s lips found her ear and his words trembled through her, running and settling south with a pang that half made her regret them ever getting off of her floor. She warmed to the same colour as the tomatoes that were in the window, darkening in the wintery sunshine. She could have been easily mistaken for one of the fruits in that moment and she was caught between slapping Ollie away in dismay and curling into him to hide and deny a desire to do so. He stepped away before she could decide to do either, though, and she took a deep breath to sober herself. She rubbed her fingers through the front of her hair, glancing at Ollie with a mock-reproachful expression, and huffed, smiling a little.

Alice strayed back to Ollie’s side somewhat absent-mindedly, and wound an arm around his waist, turning her gaze to him in order to appreciate him with an indulgent smile. She nodded, glancing over at Ariel who was quickly directing his magic to chop vegetables up. He was greasing up a deep-dish pot ready for the veg and was in the midst of throwing together some gravy, working rhythmically, largely ignoring them, it appeared, though she had a feeling he was absorbing every word. He didn’t bristle, either. He seemed, actually, happy for them. She leaned into Ollie, content that there was some semblance of blessing passing through the knotted muscles of Ariel’s shoulders.

“Go and sit down or go back to bed or something,” Ariel waved them off, turning around, the wooden spoon loose in his fingers as he turned the gravy in circles. “I’ll call you when everything’s done, alright? Well done for finally getting the girl, Ollie,” he winked, his smirk widening across his features. “And well done Ms. Rousseau, for heeding my advice. So, you’re alright … leave me to it and go sit on the sofa where you belong, ‘kay?”

Oliver let his fingers roam up and down Alice's arm once she moved to stand beside him, and allowed himself a moment of indulging in the idea of it not being the three of them in a slightly tense situation, but instead a time when everything seemed right with the world again. And, speaking of things not being right with the world, Oliver realized that he did, in fact, have something else that he probably ought to explain to Alice before anything got out of control. After all, he hadn't expected it, himself. So why would anyone else?

Thus, he was grateful when Ariel sent them away, likely so he could focus on avoiding a lost finger in his chopping. Oliver had a feeling that he and Alice were doing nothing but distracting the werewolf, despite their endeavors to be friendly and open. So he stood, nudging the bar stool back under the edge of the counter with one foot, and used the hand around Alice's shoulder to gently lead her back towards his room. After all, the dogs had neither been seen nor heard from, and Oliver figured he could just leave the door open in an attempt to keep from traumatizing his roommate too much in one day.

Once within the walls of his room again, he gave her shoulder a squeeze before releasing her in order to flop himself down on the bed. Eric, for what it was worth, had stood up. That, Oliver felt, was a good sign. A squeaky wasn't too far off, either, so if the dogs had been surprised by their entrance, perhaps Oliver could assume that they had actually been getting along well enough beforehand.

"There's something I might should have mentioned earlier, though it really isn't as big of a deal as people have told me it is," he shrugged, determined to avoid Alice assuming his role was more important than it actually, truly was. "After I left yours... well, the damned vaccine thing isn't the first thing I did. I actually got in touch with an old friend, who happened to be part of the Order. And, once she left and I spoke to the woman meant to take over, we decided to try and run the thing together," Oliver explained, shaking his head at the ceiling as he let his elbows bend, resting the back of his head on both of his palms.

"I only hope it turns out as it's meant to," he admitted after a moment, a frown taking over his features briefly. Looking to Alice, Oliver extended a hand, adding, "C'mere, love. You were away too long. I missed having you here."

Becoming reacquainted was a luxury that did not, in the esteemed opinion of Ariel Greyback, need to be disturbed. The blonde was glad to resign his friends back to the bedroom or to the living room or wherever it was they desired to retire to. He understood that his own place in their life was diminished in this moment for the sake of their coupling. They needed time together and he was happy enough to facilitate that, most especially because he didn’t want to have to make conversation to make them feel better about the awkward hovering they would inevitably resort to, knowing full well they couldn’t help him but were determined to linger anyway. For all involved, they were better off out of the kitchen.

So, naturally, the couple’s steps were retraced and they returned to the bedroom where Alice was glad to find herself once more. An involuntary smile tugged her lips upwards as Ollie abandoned himself onto the bed and she strayed to him at his coaxing, falling upon the bed and coming to lay over him, leaving a trail of kisses across his chest as she wriggled into a comfortable position, her legs curled up in his. She considered what he was saying and the first few pangs of fear went through her. She knew plenty about the Order as she’d been given the history like all post-war children. What she’d not ever been able to reconcile was the idea that it was a real organisation with living people working within its parameters. She’d never been able to distinguish it from the stories.

“It’s a pretty big deal,” she pointed out sagely, drawing nonsense patterns in his chest with her index finger. “It’s not as though it’s the safest thing in the world,” she continued, trying to gage what he thought about it. “I mean, doesn’t this put you on some sort of Death Eater hit list by the virtue of being involved?” She sucked her lower lip in between her teeth and frowned softly at him. Her fingers spread out across him, as though somehow she’d protect him by covering him with her own frame. It wasn’t quite right but the sentiment was there and Alice pouted openly at Ollie, her dismay and worry wrinkling her forehead and tightening the skin at the side of her mouth.

“I don’t want to have to burn down whatever hell hole they’re in with all of them in it if you’re hurt,” she explained gradually, testing her voice again as she brought a hand to his cheek. “So please stay safe. Or, let me kick butt with you … or, let me know when you’re kicking butt so I can flail miserably about it? Or … I dunno. Don’t kick butt? Can we lead really boring lives in a cottage somewhere where the garden is beset with bees and birds in the summer so I can wear pretty dresses and you can sit and write in the sunshine and we can grow vegetables and make jam to sell in the village and the dogs can lounge around and nothing can ever cause strife apart from my parents visiting?” She smiled hopefully, but also with the assurance that she wasn’t completely serious. Well, she was, actually, but the expression was there in case he didn’t want that.

“Did you hear about lobbyists at the Ministry?” She asked trivially, smiling at him. “It’s meant to be underground somewhere, literally I’ve heard, whilst repairs are done and allegedly these owl welfare blokes got lost and ended up in a Muggle tube tunnel. Then a train came … and I mean … I guess they’re fine. They’re a bit flatter than they were but my dad was saying that they’ll even back out again at some point. But there’s a bit of … kind of nonsense for you.” She laughed a bit and snuggled closer into him. “Missed you,” she mumbled.

Lying there as he held her, Oliver couldn’t help but notice, really, that Alice’s presence felt ephemeral. Ephemeral as a rainbow, when there was nothing left for it to do but dissipate as the mist did, or to fade when a cloud crossed the sun once more – for, wasn’t that what she was made of, in a sense? Rainbows and flowers and everything else that wasn’t meant to last. Nothing, though, was truly made to last. Oliver, out of anyone, had reason to believe that – with, of course, Thalia being his main example, perhaps followed by his temper when it came to Alice’s father. But that was neither here nor there. What mattered, he supposed, was the fact that, despite all of those things fading and failing and falling out of existence, the way he felt about her would not change. Nothing that Alice did – or, well, nothing that he could bring to mind just then – would be able to persuade him otherwise. Even if she decided she did not want him, or if she decided to show him that she didn’t, Oliver knew that he would still feel the same way. Though he would hate himself a bit for it, and be awfully curt with her if he saw her after, that emotion he felt for her was grounded and planted within him, and it would take more than anything life could bring along to pull the roots out of his chest.

Death, realistically, was something to be feared – and Oliver didn’t disagree with that. But the idea of death brought the author more than the typical question of what came next. It also carried with it the understanding that he would not have her, or she would not have him, depending on whom it was that left first. Selfishly, he initially wished that it would be him who left first. But, regardless of the fact that he truly hated the idea of being told he had to handle things without her, Oliver despised even more the potential of leaving Alice alone. That, he would not do again. He curled his arms around her at the very idea, premature guilt ringing through him. Perhaps he would, though. Perhaps he really would be the first one to go. With everything going wrong in their world and with his new obligation to join the Order in whatever it was they felt needed to be fought, perhaps it would simply happen without his preparing for it.

That moment of Alice's worrying – it was the one he would look back on when deciding if starting a war – of words or otherwise – against another group was really worth it. It was in that instant that Oliver knew he would rather fight his peers against initiating something than actually fight the so-called villains of their story. And, despite all of Alice’s requirements that they truly got used to the idea of being together before any change was made, it was in that very breath – an inhale simply because he was close enough to smell her perfume – that he knew what he would say when the time came. He knew exactly how the question would be posited, and that there was honestly no changing his mind. It simply could not be undone, his conclusion. And Oliver desperately needed her to say yes, when he finally decided he had shown her the proper respect for her wishes and he knew she would not be angry with him. He needed it – needed her – perhaps even more than he needed air and sustenance to live. He needed the knowledge that his bad decisions would be countered by good advice; that – if he did have to do battle with whomever the villains turned out to be – he could return to a place that felt like home because the person he wanted to be there would be, and because that person would take care of him as he would them when they needed it.

So when she tried to assess the danger that Oliver was in, he moved a hand to cover Alice's, wiggling his fingers until they could curl between her smaller ones and into her palm. "Unfortunately," he began slowly, knowing full well that she would not be amused with his reply, "between myself and Audriana, it's probable that I'll be the one living more in the spotlight. That's likely because I'm the more rational, and thus the real decision-maker in our team. Not, of course, that the rest of the Order doesn't have a say. But, you know what I mean."

He lifted a shoulder in a sort of shrug, moving the pillow he lay on as he did so, and kept on. "Dangerous, yes. But, outside of you and the Order, nobody knows who's leading it now. Well, Ari might have figured it out, but that's not the point I'm making. So far, I'm under the radar," Oliver assured her gently, lifting up to press a kiss into the column of her neck before he sank down again. "For now, we're safe. And we've got a couple of folks on the inside of the Death Eaters, so hopefully we've got time on our hands."

Oliver kissed at her palm as her fingers curled against him, a low chuckle escaping between his lips. "Alice, I adore you. So I'll be worried about how - for as long as I continue to try and help lead them, you might be in trouble. Which, if I can turn things around, won't be too long. They need to be reminded why the Order was formed in the first place. However," he added, leveling a firm yet affectionate gaze in her direction, "as much as I do love you, I also respect you. I'm not going to try and convince you to stay put. I would rather have you there, if only because I would know you were close. I don't think it'll get so bad that I need to worry about leaving you somewhere without me. But, equally, I've heard about your retaliation against people who have gone against you. So I'm quite confident that you can handle yourself, my love."

Oliver felt a bit bad for having dodged her earlier point, so he did what he could to track back and fully comprehend what she had requested. Alice seemed comfortable with the potential of a 'his and hers' future, but something told him that she would never fill the role of the Angel in the House. He was certain that he would not want her to, either. Alice could never be so one-dimensional or boring - or perfect, which he was hardly interested in. She was much more amusing when she was completely unaware of his best attempts at come-ons (until she finally did catch on and then Oliver was not even close to being in control of what happened anymore), and Oliver couldn't remember a single time when he had really and truly wanted to change something about her. He had been exceptionally imbecilic, though, and he knew it; but that did not, he felt, give any indication that she was the one expected to change. He would have easily done so to fit in with her image of what was right. But Alice had left out the things most people were supposed to stick in their image of a perfect home, a perfect life.

And Oliver knew perfectly well why she had done so: she wouldn't have it. Wouldn't get it. Well, not in the normal way one expected to have children, with all the running about on the lawn that was perfectly, wonderfully large; with the dogs complaining a little bit about how much the little blond rug-rats (who looked incredibly like Oliver, or Alice respectively) were poking them too much for those dogs' tastes. Those kids would not look like him, that much was clear. In another scenario, Alice could find herself with ones who did look like her. But Oliver was selfish, and Alice had somehow decided he was worth losing that chance. That, beyond all else, astounded him. And there were absolutely no words to expound on how his chest clenched, the way his entire being was wrapped up in the fact that he could never make up for what Alice had said - what she had done. There were no words, and there was nothing else for it.

There was no one else for him.

So although he did what he could to avoid simply grinning at her like a fool (though he was one, for her), he did endeavor to say something that was along the lines of the tone she gave her words. He wasn't sure that she was entirely serious, so he wanted to stay near that level, but he also hoped to suggest that he was definitely closer to serious than joking. "We can," Oliver asserted brightly. "But that doesn't have to come about immediately, and I don't expect it to. I've found my work again, and you've found yours, and you know as well as I do that we need to do this properly."

He rolled towards her, lifting his hand through her hair as she settled into the mattress and he lifted a knee to rest it between her own. "I'll be safe, okay? I promise. And so long as you make sure that you make and keep up that same promise, everything will work out just as it's meant to. I believe that. Anything within my means, it's yours if you want it."

Oliver truly had no idea what Alice was talking about when it came to the Ministry and whoever, but he did what he could to absorb it and comprehend it properly. "I did not hear about that, no. And I'm not sure I followed it properly just now. But I missed you, too, so you can talk about whatever in the world that you like. Absolutely anything you want to. Y'know, until Ariel calls us back in to eat." He assured her with a laugh, then added, "Though, I think he might appreciate it if we were wearing regular clothing instead of pajamas. Especially since he's of the impression that I was here last night - which I was, of course, but still. Want something of mine?" Oliver offered, sitting up and gesturing towards the drawers. "Or you could always transfigure something to work, if that suits you better."

Intrigue, whether political or otherwise, seemed to stalk the delicate, porcelain blonde like a stormy, herding shadow that coaxed her to danger. Though she strove to stand in the sun, to feel the heat lavishing upon her cheeks, she knew that the darkness encroached upon her, and had done since she was a child. With Oliver, she’d been certain that her chance to feel the light always, without the chill of the night. With him, she still felt sure she would. The shadow of peril had returned, though. She had never thought it would be in the form of the threat of Death Eaters. Irrespective of whether they knew or not, something would slip through. Someone would find out and then safety would be forgone for the interests of the Order. Alice pressed her head against his chest, her breath ghosting softly across his skin in a short gush.

“Be mindful of their loyalty,” she warned, adding: “they may be Death Eaters in your midst and not Order members in theirs.”

Despite herself, she smiled. She drew her fingers across his lips and couldn’t help but smile at him. She shook her head, her mind tracing back to a few instances in the past when she proved to be a formidable wind-up-merchant in the midst of a duel. She and Daniel used to duel and though he had never enjoyed the practise, he’d especially resented it when Jemma had made him pair up with Alice. Equally, their instructor at Beauxbatons had been caught in equal parts awe and dismay when she duelled, always finding that there was something to clean up – primarily usually Daniel himself. Nevertheless, it was an incredibly different ballgame against an arsenal of Death Eaters and it was one that Alice was not entirely prepared to allow Ollie to deal with alone, though she did not want to be so rash as to put a target on her back in the form of a phoenix. Not wanting to and having to were different things, though. It was the right thing to do.

“I’m an extra wand,” she pointed out, “and you need all the help you can get, surely? Besides that, I’m not leaving you out there on your own with no one to watch your back. I’d rather be there because at least ... at least I know that I can protect you. You don’t need it, I know that, but I don’t think anyone else could – and if you’re the leader then I’m there, Ollie.”

In truth, the idea terrified her. She buried that feeling, though, because it would have been wrong to wear it on her sleeve and let it show in her cheeks. Equally, though, the cottage and jam future scared her a bit, too. She was still in lawyer mode and her life was arguing with old men in court and meeting rooms in order to make deals that suited what she wanted. She didn’t know if she had it in her to tune right down and turn off the excitement to make jam in the countryside. She lived and breathed the city. She needed the excitement. Perhaps, then, the Order wasn’t such a bad place for her to go. She buried her face in Ollie’s chest, snuggling into him. So, it seemed, she wasn’t going to stand in the sunshine for a long time yet. There was still a lot of darkness to wade through.

“I’ll be safe if you are,” she returned with a grin, turning off of his chest to lay beside him. Alice sat up and ran her fingers through her hair before looking at Ollie, her smile widening impossibly. “The blue top with the anchor on it?” She asked of him. “Is that still about?”

There comes a moment in every person's life - or, Oliver felt it must be universally true, for how could anyone not feel it as he did? - when they look up and see in front of them several steps they've yet to climb, but behind them many that they already have ascended. And at the top there is a door that has something they can't imagine behind it, but they have to stop on that stair step and wonder how on earth they got to where they are. They wonder when and how they actually took those steps, and wonder how on earth they'll make the next ones, because if they don't even know how they got to where they are, how can they keep going and get to that door?

Perhaps, and Oliver wouldn't have considered the possibility before Alice, one simply needed a bit of help if one were to make it there. She wasn't wrong about the potential of double agents actually working for the other side, but if there was one person he wasn't worried about, it was Ben. Still, he didn't see the point in correcting her when he had no proof about anyone else. She could sometimes be more observant than he was, so he merely hoped that, if she did want to come with him to meetings or whatever else, she might catch on to someone who wasn't fully true to the Order.

"You're more than welcome to be there, Allie. I'm not going to pretend I expect you to sit around while I run off and take the risks on my own. I don't want to do it on my own," he added, hoping to reassure her in whatever way he could. "I wouldn't say I'm really the leader at this point, though. It's early, yet. But hopefully I can help sort things out. I want to instill a bit more interaction between those considered to be in charge and those who previously haven't had a say in things as much. A council of sorts, I suppose. But that can't come until we have earned the trust of the others, and that will take a bit of time. So, while a leader in title, it may not be set in stone with everyone else."

He gave a little shrug, as though to say that only time could tell the fate of the Order, and the fate of his role among them, but had to smirk at the item she requested. Somehow he wasn't actually surprised. But it did bring back memories of that first breakfast they'd spent within their - or, well, it was sort of his and Ariel's again, though Alice would inevitably always have a place there, as well - apartment.

"It is, yeah," he replied, pushing off of the bed to dig it out from his drawer of sleep shirts. He had left it there, after a time, when he came to the conclusion that she rather liked it thanks to that first morning, and that Oliver himself rather liked her in it. When his fingers found the fabric, he grinned and set it atop the dresser while he pulled out a shirt of his own and bottoms for the both of them. He kicked the door closed as he walked around the bed again to stand next to Alice, and held the clothes up, just out of her reach.

"You know," he began, dropping what he was meant to wear onto the bedside table, "I could, uh, help you out with this." Oliver's eyebrow lifted along with the corner of his mouth, the smirk appearing without his actually willing it to. "Or, I suppose, out of that." he gestured to her pajamas.

He leaned forward, one hand resting on the sheets as the other held the shirt she'd requested and the bottoms away from her and out over the floor so she couldn't reach them. "If you want," he added, breathing the words against her ear before pressing a kiss just beneath where the lobe of the ear met her neck.