Fixer Uppers

They scaled the stairs, stopping only when Avery reached the top step and turned back around to look at Robin below her. He felt surprisingly small as she stared down at him and for a moment he was reminded of the confident power she had radiated when they first met. She had impressed him at the bar and had continued to do so day by day, little by little. Robin hadn't been able to remember meeting a girl so genuinely bold and strong before, one who was able to freely taunt him in a way that made him only adore her more.

Robin wonder what would happen if he met Avery today. If his wife was a stranger - bruised, broken, downtrodden - would he have fallen for her so easily? He had never been attracted to damaged women and their closets of emotional baggage. No, it was always the strong ones who caught his eye. Elsie, Claire, Mira, Cordella. While each had their individual insecurities as a whole they were powerful, confident women who got what they want when they wanted it. Robin had watched some of his old Durmstrang friends become attached to needy girls and afterwards be subjected to emotional torture of their own. He had sworn such tragedy would never befall him but was that not exactly what had happened?

No, it wasn't. Somehow Avery was different, in a whole separate universe from those other girls. While she needed him she was not needy. He had to admit that she had more baggage than he had been counting on but it would be unfair to assume that she did not feel the same way about him. After all, if the neverending list of old lovers was not baggage, what was? As strange as it sounded, this marriage was no longer an obligation. There was no where else he would have wanted to be.

So when Avery spoke Robin couldn't help but feel that familior sinking sensation that reminded him how little his wife understood. It was true that he wasn't the best communicator. It had taken months of letter writing for her to coax out any non-sarcastic declaration of his feelings and Robin still felt uncomfortable whenever his wife turned the conversation to anything more gooey or heartfelt than he was expecting. But just because he didn't shout it from the rooftops didn't mean he cared any less.

"I'm fine." he assured her too quickly. While Robin was far from calm about the fact that he had just apperated to London (it made his heart convulse uncomfortably every time he was reminded of it) this was not the time or place for him to be complaining. Avery had just been mugged, hospitalized, and told she was pregnant and yet she was still standing there concerned about his childish phobia. It was another trait of hers that had always simultaneously annoyed and amazed him. Couldn't she just be selfish for once? Avery was self-sacrificing to a fault, always seeming to be most so when Robin was the most determined to take care of her.

Robin let out a little breath, releasing the tension from his tone before he continued. "Of course I had to come."

Avery looked frustratingly unconvinced. She always managed to take the things he said absentmindedly too personally and never seemed to believe him when he really did mean what he said. He knew sometimes his words sounded prepared but that was because, well, they were. When it came to love Robin took none of it lightly. If he thought too much before he spoke it was because he had turned the thoughts over thousands of times in his head, trying to find the right way to phrase what he wanted to say.

The letters were easier. He could plan things out without the threat of his over-analyzing tone betraying him. While he had told Avery he loved her both in person and in pen the prompting conversations were most often initiated by her. He was terrible at spontaneous declarations of love. Displays of affection were easy - saying it was harder.

Robin reached up and took the nearer of Avery's hands in his. "If anything ever happens, no matter where you are, you call me immediately. Understand? Nothing is more important than me getting to you so I can make sure you're safe." Robin's thumb caressed the back of Avery's hand, a small act of the connection that he had missed so dearly. "That's not for discussion."

“Okay,” she replied instantly, her word accompanied by a hitch of breath and a flinch as she tore her gaze from his. “Sorry.” Clasping one hand over the other in front of her stomach, Avery gripped her own fingers too tightly, telling herself over and over how stupid she was for reacting so poorly. It was Robin, not that man standing in front of her.

Her tongue darted out to wet her lips as he continued, and Avery just found herself nodding in return. Her mind was racing, and were she more aware of how she was acting, Avery would have known how obvious she was being. Her gaze flicked across the paint of the stairway wall as the image of the attacker blurred in front of her eyes. His face – she had known what he looked like not an hour before. But now her mind refused to conjure up the proper image of him. She was glad, to some extent, to have the face distorted and practically swept from her mind, but it was also terrifying how quickly she had lost the picture of what had happened. Blaming it on the trauma of it all, Avery decided she would rather have known, to avoid him in the future if spotted. Avery only hoped she never had to see him again, whoever he was.

Robin’s fingers pried hers from their hold, ripping her from the frustrating attempt at remembering. It wasn’t until his question that she actually lifted her eyes to meet his.

Understand?

Avery nodded, blinking at him twice. “Okay, sorry.” She repeated after he finished, quieter this time. Her front teeth tapped almost noiselessly against each other as she watched him, but she hesitated only slightly before turning and walking down the hall to his room. Looking over her shoulder at Robin as she came to stand in the doorway, she paused to take in the look of it once more.

Her first moments in his room had been her attempt to ‘protect’ him from Melissa as she dove in to wake him for brunch. And what a terrible brunch that had been. She had tried to be open with Keiran, as she was so often allowed to be, and it had backfired so spectacularly that she hadn’t been able to deal with it. Back then, Avery knew, she had been much stronger and much more the sort of person that someone like Robin needed. She had been charming enough, more talkative, less emotional.

But it was Robin’s fault that she had changed, Avery concluded. It made sense to pin it on him. He had convinced her somehow that she didn't have to hide, and that she could go about being herself and telling him things she shouldn't have. Things that changed her, and probably changed his view of her at the same time. It was his fault, because she loved him and couldn't help it.

Although Avery had technically said the words on paper, she had been the one to admit to those three syllables, those seven little letters that meant everything all at once. How foolish she must have seemed to have done so. A week and a half later, she couldn’t find it in her to say the phrase aloud after Robin hadn’t tried, either. Following the walls of the room, Avery’s gaze re-memorized all of it, sweeping across and drawing in the feelings that came with the space. Her survey stopped abruptly, though, when her eyes locked on a small, wrapped package that lacked a note that should have been there.

So Robin had seen it.

Wonderful. He had seen it, and he knew, but he couldn’t find it in him to return the sentiment. Avery couldn’t be truly upset about it, though, considering their history and who she was. She had no right to claim Robin's love when she had not earned it. Avery knew she was trouble, and felt bad for forcing Robin into the role of protector and savior in the event of one of her disasters. No, she couldn't be angry with him, or feel hurt by him. She had hurt herself in telling him when she knew full well not to expect anything in return.

Swallowing hard, she nodded to herself and walked over to the dresser, ignoring the box as best as she could. Her clothes were, of course, as she had left them, and she pulled out a nightgown that she carried into the bathroom with her. A bath was a necessity, she felt, so it was as she leaned over the rim of the tub to turn the faucet on that she gasped out a surprised, pained sound. The water was loud enough that it could cover the noise, but Avery snatched up the nearby nightclothes and darted into the adjoining water closet, closing the door behind her in fear of Robin having noticed. Bruises, she found, remained visible beyond what the healer could manage, and she regretted her decision to entrust Robin with a more liberal view of her skin.

It wasn’t that she doubted his morals in any way, or thought she may have ever misjudged his personality. No, it was more a fear that he would see the discoloration and react badly. With the images tossed at her once more after catching sight of the injuries, Avery could only manage to brace herself against the door and press a hand to her stomach.

“Um, Robin?” She called out, trying to keep her voice firm, “I changed my mind.” Opening the door, she pushed her shirt back down to touch the waistline of her jeans before stepping through to try and find him. Once she caught sight of him, she continued. “Would you mind maybe shutting that off?” She gestured to the bathtub, “I think I’ll head to the spare bathroom and shower instead.”

The nightgown was returned to its drawer as a set of pajamas was found, hands grasping anxiously. She lifted her chin to look through the bathroom door at Robin, unsure exactly what he would take away from her words, wringing the newly chosen clothes in her hands. “I’ll just be a minute.”

As Avery moved towards the dresser Robin parted from her to make his way to the closet on the other side of the room. The couple ruffled through drawers simultaneously, more in sync than either of them ever realized. Robin pulled out a pair of pajamas as Avery entered the bathroom and had just pulled off his shirt to change when she called out to him. Robin glanced up as she was leaving the room to give a weak "Okay" in acknowledgement of her question. Of course he didn't want her to leave but what was he supposed to do? Refuse to let her leave his sight?

Robin walked to the bathroom and turned off the tap as directed. As he looked up his eyes caught his reflection in the mirror over the sink and he stopped to stare for a moment, noticing the circles that had appeared under his own eyes and the fatigue that was clear in his face. He wasn't as tired as his wife but he was certainly ready to sleep. Frowning at the less-than-gorgeous reflection, Robin grabbed the toothbrush and toothpaste and began to brush his teeth. When he was done a minute or so later he returned to the bedroom to find Avery had gone downstairs.

There was an unpleasantness to the air like he was doing something wrong. Robin could never quite pinpoint this sensation but he felt it more with Avery than any girl before. He had felt the same failure when he and Claire had first started dating and she had single-handedly had to teach him the basic rules of being a decent boyfriend. Now Robin was clueless on how to be the husband that Avery wanted, that she needed, but the big difference was she wasn't willing to tell him what to change. He was stuck to try and do the best he could, fumbling through the day to day things that came so naturally to others.

Robin finished changing into pajama bottoms and a tee shirt, throwing the old clothes into the hamper and sitting down on his side of the bed to wait for Avery to finish her shower. As he sat his eye caught on the small wrapped box that sat on top of the dresser.. Exactly where he had left it. Both the package and the note had completely slipped his mind but the reminder prompted him to stand again and head back to the closet where he pulled out a slightly larger gift wrapped in red and white paper with little reindeer on it. Scrawled in black sharpie on the corner of the package was written:
Merry Christmas, Mrs. Ivanov
- R

While he had felt so completely confident in his selection while at the store he was now almost nervous to give it to her. The jacket wasn't really remarkable in any way - certainly not very expensive or rare. He couldn't help but wonder how his gift would compare to the one that sat on the dresser. Robin sat on top of the covers, torn between fatigue and wanting to stay up together for just a little bit longer. They might have been only a room away but, God, had he missed her. Robin heard the water shut off downstairs and he crossed his legs, leaning back against the headboard. Things might have been patched but he knew they weren't completely healed yet. They both needed more recovery time than a car ride from London.

Being clean felt insanely good after the day Avery had been through. So good that she almost let herself forget her new sleeping arrangements. A few steps out of the bathroom, she realized that the fatigue was getting to her and that she needed to focus. She shook her head once, ignoring the yawn that broke out across her face, before lifting her wand to dry her hair as she slowly climbed the stairs once more.

Robin was settled on the bed, looking nearly as tired as she probably did - though, admittedly, Avery felt a little less uneasy now that she had rid herself of the sheer feeling of being attacked. Apparently showers could do that for her. Logging that away in some insane part of her mind - arguably the larger part, if you asked her on the right day - Avery padded across the carpet to stand next to the bed. Her eyes caught something new in the room, though, besides Robin's change of clothes. Swallowing nervously, she chanced a sidelong glance at him before rounding the bed to pick up both packages. Setting his smaller one atop his legs, Avery crawled onto the end of the bed and crossed her legs so she sat facing him.

It was about time they opened them, she mused, and gestured to him that he should open the box. It had been a rather stupid impulse, buying his gift. Really, it was selfish of her, because Avery knew it was more for her than for her husband. But the gift had been paid for - and it was quite a lot of her wages from the Ministry those past few months. A dent in his savings would perhaps have gone unnoticed, but Avery wouldn't have felt right taking money from the Ivanov vault just to buy something that would also benefit her, as opposed to just the one true Ivanov in the room.

"They're, um," she started, flustered, barely able to wait until he held the pieces of paper in his hands before qualifying them. "They're tickets. And that bigger paper, it's an itinerary. I probably should have checked with your schedule, but it's for a weekend in Maui. Y'know, it's supposed to have the best skies at night and sunsets and stuff. Um." Avery licked her lips self-consciously, brow furrowing in concentration. What was her point? Right. That. "There're two there. Tickets, that is. And the hotel is big enough for more, I guess, so if you wanted to invite, like, your poker friends or um, closest teammates you could. They'd just need a way there. Portkey would work, arguably, but I knew you wouldn't want to. Or, I assumed you wouldn't..."

Avery stopped herself eventually, realizing that not only were her words unhelpful, but they came out in circles. Ducking her chin, she looked down at the package settled atop her knees. Biting the inside of her cheek, Avery dared a glance over the entirety of it, hoping (perhaps unintelligently) that he had left her some indication or something, as she had done for him. At first, her heart sank, for she saw nothing. But then she looked over the corner and her shoulders sank in surprise, the air leaving her in one fell swoop.

Her actions mirrored Robin's, though she could never have known, as her fingers brushed over the words he had left for her. Oh, yeah. That was her name, wasn't it? She hadn't felt like it belonged to her for... well, ages. Too long. She could hear the words in her head just as if Robin had said them aloud, the memory coming from their honeymoon and that one time she left work early to be greeted as such. It always had the same connotation, never dropped without purpose. She didn't dare hope that the purpose was the same as her own when she addressed herself as Mrs. Ivanov. Because there was a huge difference in someone else calling her that, and Avery choosing to do so herself.

See, if she went by that name, she felt it meant more than a signing of papers to say that you are now married and all of that other stuff that came with it. For Avery - for Mrs. Ivanov - it was the most perfect and obvious way to show that she was his, even when she didn't deserve it. That night, much like Christmas Eve, she had been unable to call herself that, having signed with just an A - rather like Hester would've, she imagined.

Nonetheless, the name gripped at her heart and Avery couldn't help but stare up at Robin where he sat before her, wishing she had chosen to sit beside him instead. Then she could have used her hair as a curtain for the blush that stained her cheeks. She could have nudged him and muttered some semblance of 'that's really sweet' even though it was just something any husband would have written down. Wasn't it? Or did Keiran write "Happy Christmas, Millie" on his gifts for her? She wasn't sure. In the end, she turned it over and was careful not to tear the paper, fully intending to save it, even if Robin noticed.

Into her hands fell a red jacket that she couldn't quite take her eyes off of for a minute. It wasn't that one singularly perfect gift that made everything right with the world. But then, Avery couldn't have said what that gift would have been, no matter how long she was given to consider it. So she didn't consider it. She chose to believe that he had seen it and just known. Because she loved it.

Sliding her arms into the sleeves, Avery determined that she probably looked incredibly ridiculous with her pajamas and uncurled hair, with her tired expression and frail form. But she let the paper tumble gently to the floor as she crawled over the comforter to sit next to Robin, watching him as she did so.

"Thank you," she murmured, voice low with exhaustion and the sheer fact that she wasn't sure he could've picked anything better. Extending a hand, she took up the papers and box she had given him, turning to set them on the night stand beside bed. "Looks like you could use some sleep as much as I do." She offered belatedly, turning back to face him.

Avery considered lifting the sheets and just tucking in, but some part of her wasn't ready to give in and let the day end. It was New Year's after all. Time to give up old problems and take issue with new ones that needed to be fixed. Avery's resolution, without question, was to fix things with Robin. Essentially, to fix her marriage.

It wouldn't be perfect, because although he always was, she could never be. But it could be normal - or next to normal - and that would be pretty good as far as she was concerned. So she accepted the fact that it would make her even more crazy than already assumed, and lifted a leather-clad arm to brush her fingers over the light scruff that had grown over the day or two since he had last found it in him to worry after shaving. Saying those three words, that she could not manage. But she needed to say something, and eventually she just let out the first thing that came to mind.

"You're great, you know. Really something."

Avery returned and they quickly settled on the bed together with gifts in their laps like children under the tree. Robin opened his first and, sure enough, it shamefully blew his away. He looked down at the tickets in his hand and back up at his wife, more shocked than anything that she had pulled together such an elaborate gift without him noticing. He could imagine the beaches already and would have been ready to fly tomorrow if work hadn't made things so complicated. They needed a breather from their colleagues, friends, and England itself. Avery was offering to let him bring friends but he knew that they really needed a weekend to themselves to just.. be.

"This is amazing. Thank you."

Avery began to open the package and he felt the slightest bit of relief as she broke out in a smile. The red jacket felt so small in comparison to the gesture that she had just given him but somehow she seemed okay with it, immediately slipping it on. He couldn't deny, it was an odd combination that she was sporting but somehow, even after the day she had been through, she looked hot anyway. Red had always been Avery's color.

Avery reached out to caress his cheek and silence enveloped the space as one member of the pair thought of what to say while the other reveled in finally feeling no need to say anything at all. Robin could feel the love - both hers and his - flowing between them and around their room. It was so clear he was almost able to see it, to touch it, it was so easy to forget to say it. The gift exchange had reminded him of the note that she had left for him, reiterating what she had half-confessed in the Hayes' kitchen. Robin hadn't really needed to have her tell him - he had always known - but if nothing else the big L word did solidify his confidence into absolute certainty.

Avery finally spoke and Robin smiled. It was a genuinely sweet thing to say but he couldn't help himself.. a little smirk began to creep on to his lips. "I know." He leaned forward slowly, pausing an inch away from Avery before closing the distance to her lips in a kiss that was much softer than his words. The motion was not as uncertain as he has expected after so long damaged and apart. There was nothing more Robin would have liked than kissing Avery for awhile longer but he pulled away after only a second, not wanting to push them.

Robin pulled away and slipped his feet under the covers to tuck in for the night. He smiled softly at Avery and patted the bed beside him, as close as she had ever been. When she joined him moments later the couple found themselves laying side by side, both staring across the sea of blankets, neither wanting to be the one to turn around and close their eyes first. The silence was both easy and uncomfortable at the same time. Robin had a million things he could have said but he chose to keep silent, content to simply stare across at his wife. Finally, Robin found something worth speaking up about.

"Avery?" A pause. "Guess what." Another pause. "We're having a baby."

Avery was halfway through scoffing and rolling her eyes when Robin leaned in, sobering her immediately. A glimmer of desperation hit her when their lips met, eyes falling closed immediately. Neither one registered the fact that it was midnight, or that it was no longer New Year's Eve, but New Year's day. What normal couples expected, Robin had accidentally given Avery right on time.

He hadn't done this earlier, had he? Avery couldn't even remember. Especially not when he was kissing her and her thoughts were jumbled and-

Hey.

It took her a minute to register that she should open her eyes, both the exhaustion and the disappointment weighing on her. She didn't comment, though, knowing that any slip of the tongue could cause another stalemate, another cold war, and another night in the spare room she was now terrified of.

Robin settled in for the night and Avery knew she was expected to do the same. So when his hand tapped the mattress a shy smile grew, and Avery did as was suggested. Or was he asking her to? Either way, she was pleased. Knowing full well how ridiculous she would seem, Avery pulled the front of the jacket closer around her, even as she burrowed into the sheets and under the covers. She had overdone it with her gift and now she felt bad for making it look like she expected much more from him. So she vowed to make it quite obvious that she loved the jacket a lot. Nearly as much as she loved him, though that would never really be possible.

After all, the jacket wasn't able to talk to her, and to remind her of what they had learned that day. It had honestly managed to slip her mind after she had focused so strongly on the discoloration of her torso. The hand that had been drawing out cursive 'i love you's on the sheets paused, her eyes lifting to meet his properly.

"Yeah," she whispered, unsure why her voice had suddenly dropped. It wasn't as though anyone could listen in, but the topic felt intimate somehow. Only the Blackmoors knew besides her and Robin - well, and the hospital, but that was irrelevant. It was basically a secret, and the idea that she and Robin shared one was almost beautiful in its own right.

The fear of her new future stuck her, though, even as yawns took over and she felt herself drifting again. Her cheek pressed into the pillow, gaze falling away from his as she mumbled the last coherent thought she had:

"I'm scared..."

--

If Robin said anything in return, Avery hadn't caught it. Her eyes had shut and sleep had overtaken her too quickly. She had wanted to offer an apologetic smile for her reply, but she was just too far gone.

Dreams, though, as expected, were deeply unpleasant. Avery woke somewhere between four and five am, breaths leaving her practically in gasps. Oddly, she hadn't broken out in the sweat she expected, but glancing around she found it was because in the night she had shucked her jacket, as well as the blankets and sheets. Curled into her pillow, Avery had a brief moment of stupid panic when she realized her knees were up to her chest. She was pregnant, after all, and she could've been hurting the baby. But that was ridiculous, considering she hadn't even started to show yet.

Groaning quietly, Avery's hands came up to cover her face, wishing desperately that she had asked Robin to let her use him as a pillow. The subconscious awareness that he was there would have probably done the trick as it had in the car. But now, sleep would not return. The faceless man had burned his way into her brain, and Avery could see it even with her eyes open and staring at the ceiling. No, she couldn't get back to sleep now.

Sitting up, she glanced Robin's direction, half expecting to find that he, too, was having night terrors after his own experience that day. The man had faced his worst fear - well, that she knew of - for her and he had refused to accept any semblance of thanks. Though, admittedly, Avery hadn't been brilliant at giving the thanks at the time.

Avery wanted to push off the mattress and wander the house until she grew too tired to manage and thus returned to bed. But what if Robin really did have nightmares? What if she left and he woke and she wasn't there to settle him? The idea made her heart clench, so Avery decided to take the brave and more attentive route. Scooting across the sheets, she tucked her toes under Robin's leg and curled herself around his middle. Once her cheek had settled on his chest, Avery decided that she didn't care if it meant that she stared at the wall until morning; at least she was there for once.

The night was long.

There were nightmares on both sides. Robin was woken several times by Avery shaking or moving and all he could do was wrap his arms around her again, inviting her to use his chest as a pillow as if that would somehow ward off the bad dreams. His terrors were much more subtle. Robin's dreams were vivid but never shocking enough to jolt him from sleep on his own. It was only when Avery moved in her discomfort that she accidentally did him the service of pulling him from the dreams where his body crumbled apart piece by piece.

By 7:30 Robin couldn't stay in bed any longer. It was a good three or more hours before he normally rose for the day but every time he drifted off the dreams restarted and he didn't think he could take the same loop of nightmares another time. Robin untangled himself from Avery and the sheets as gracefully as possible and tiptoed down the stairs to the kitchen. The lazy man was almost never the one to sneak around quietly and he found the task harder than he had expected. Turning on the coffee pot sounded like a jet plane taking off and Robin visibly winced as he flushed the toilet.

Robin suspected that Avery wouldn't sleep much longer than him but on a whim he began to pull out ingredients from the fridge and cupboards. In only a few minutes the self proclaimed "Master Chef" was mixing eggs, flour, milk, and various other ingredients into a large bowl with his favorite rainbow whisk. He had always loved making breakfast. Of course it was better at 10:00 but even at this hour and under these circumstances Robin found some comfort and peace while making pancakes.

A frying pan sat on the stove ready to be turned on whenever Avery emerged from upstairs and Robin pulled out assorted fruits - oranges, strawberries, blueberries - to wash and cut up while he waited. He knew this was unnecessary. She probably wouldn't even be hungry (he certainly wasn't). But Robin needed to do something to keep his hands busy or he would likely lose his mind. For just a few more minutes Robin needed to feel like he was doing something that would make Avery's life slightly better. Pancakes were not what she really needed but they were a start. And, most importantly, they were something he knew how to do.

Wrong. It was all so wrong.

Avery was back in the alley, but this time Gavin wasn't the one lying on the ground. It was Aiden. Last time it had been Robin, so frankly the sight was less surprising this time around. But it didn't help that Avery had never found time to grieve Aiden's death, and now saw him there like it had only just happened. Glancing around, the men who had been there last time - the ones with the blurred out faces - had returned.

Jerking awake, the first thing Avery registered was the chill that surrounded her. Something was wrong. Was missing. She rolled to search out Robin's form but instead found cold sheets. No wonder the dreams were getting worse; that physical comfort was missing and somewhere in the back of her mind, Avery had known that even as she slept. The shakes were back, and Avery forced herself out of bed and moved into the bathroom to try and bring some normalcy back into her life.

The bruises had purpled but Avery covered them with a shirt that proved not to ride up when she lifted her arms. Most everything ached, and while she would have complained on any other occasion, the cause of the injuries felt very much her fault. Her vision blurred when her stomach turned over and tears pricked behind her eyes. By the time she gathered herself, Avery's feet had started to ache from standing still.

She shook her head and turned over her shoulder, and swiped her jacket off the floor before leaving the room. Her feet carried her downstairs and into the kitchen, where she found Robin putting together some ordeal of a breakfast. At the sight of it, she realized that the only thing she had eaten in about forty-eight hours was a slight lunch and hardly enough to keep her going. Her stomach growled audibly, and Avery ducked her head and blushed out of surprise.

She felt very small in that moment, jacket in hand and staring at the floor. Lifting a hand to push her hair behind her ear, Avery glanced up at him from the doorway. "Sorry if I kept you up..." she offered weakly, expecting him to say that her jitters had forced him from bed after he couldn't handle it anymore. "If I could stop the- the nightmares, I would. Maybe there's a potion for that... I mean, Keiran would probably know, but I don't think we're really talking anymore..."

As she looked across the room at Robin, his words from the day before rang in her ears. He had promised that they would work out, that their family would be sorted and comfortable and all that. She had to trust him - had to trust someone - now that they were expecting and things would be changing. Crossing the floor in a few quick strides, she reached out and gently removed the utensils he held before wrapping her arms around his middle and resting her forehead against his chest.

"Thank you for letting me stay with you again," she mumbled, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. "I missed you."

Sure enough, it did not take Avery long to emerge from their room. She entered the kitchen and he moved to pour batter into the frying pan but was stopped by the pair of arms that suddenly wrapped around him. For some reason the contact was unexpected and it took a moment for him to settle in to the touch, releasing his whisk to curl his arms around her waist. Her words startled him. They always did. Robin pushed back a little frown that threatened to emerge at the mention of Keiran and the nightmares and chose to focus on her lips caressing his jaw.

It wasn't like he had forgotten his best friend. The older man was on his mind more often than Robin would have cared to admit. He did not regret his actions on Christmas but the consequences were becoming more and more real as time passed. Neither Robin or Avery had been speaking to a man they had used to correspond with on an almost daily basis and the long stretch of losing both his best friend and wife had taken a toll on the Russian. Robin felt isolated, lost, and was suddenly very grateful to have Avery embracing him.

"Of course." Robin murmured. He knew those weren't the right words.. at least not enough of them. But he wasn't sure what the right ones would be. "I missed you too." That was a start, wasn't it? When people said things like that you were supposed to say them back. Robin had never liked pleasantries like that because it became impossible to tell who actually meant it when they returned the sentiment and who was simply using basic manners. Of course he missed her; his chest had ached every day she had pulled herself away but saying it felt artificial.

When you truly missed someone - truly loved someone - shouldn't they just know?

Robin remembered the later Durmstrang years when he was neck deep into his relationship with Claire. There had been one fight in the courtyard and just when things looked like they were going to take a turn for the worse he had simply stated matter-of-factly that he loved her as an excuse for his actions. Robin had loved her for months but had never said a word, convinced that their late-night rendezvous, notes in class, and his constant flirtatious endearments said those three words more clearly than the words themselves. But she hadn't known and the accidental admission had changed everything for the young lovebirds.

When Robin confessed to his friends what had happened one of the boys had replied with "Well yeah, girls like that kind of stuff." Over the years he had never quite grasped the concept. What exactly was so magical about those three little words?

"Breakfast?" Robin looked down at his wife with a smile. As far as he was concerned no day could be made worse by having a big breakfast. Avery disentangled herself from Robin's arms and he let her go with a parting kiss. As the blonde settled herself on one side of the island, Robin poured batter on to the frying pan, sprinkling the pancakes with raspberries and blueberries to create a canvas of color.

Robin looked across the island to smile at his wife and a vision of the note on his gift suddenly rose to the surface of his brain. Pulling from the knowledge he had gained from his one other romantic experience Robin began to put the pieces together. Those three words were a bit like 'I missed you' or 'Have a nice night' - they were meant to be returned. "Orange juice or coffee?"

The first round of pancakes finished quickly and Robin piled several on to a plate, determined to get Avery to fatten up after so long of seeing her look so tired and skinny. He moved around the island to place the plate and cup of orange juice in front of her. Robin looked down at where Avery sat and gently tucked a golden curl behind her ear before leaning down and pressing a kiss to her temple. "I love you." Robin smiled as he pulled away, his hand tracing down her arm to her hand where his fingers momentarily trailed through hers before he took a step away, preparing to flip another set of pancakes.

Avery's gaze followed Robin around the kitchen, offering responses where appropriate. Her elbow set on the counter, chin in her palm as she regarded him across the island. A sort of absentminded smile made its way onto her face as she watched him flip and plate pancakes. She had almost forgotten about the underlying strength that her husband held, his Quidditch career coming to mind very suddenly.

What had this fight meant for his practices? Had she ruined anything for him? Sitting up straighter at the direction of her thoughts, Avery's hand relaxed onto the counter top. Just as she turned to ask how things were going, Robin set the plate down, his words not registering until he had started to pull away.

Surprised more than she cared to admit, Avery's eyes widened slightly. She couldn't quite decide if she believed him, but the sentiment gripped at her heart. Just as his hand was about to slip away, Avery twined her fingers through his and tugged him back. Her other hand lifted to curl into the hair at the nape of his neck, and Avery caught his lips with her own. The kiss she gave him was the lingering sort that showed just how much his words meant - unexpected or not.

Pulling back, she ran her thumb over Robin's cheek. An almost shy smile appeared before she stole another quick kiss. "I love you, too," she promised quietly. She squeezed his hand once, and let her other hand return to his neck so her fingers could drift beneath the collar of his shirt to brush against his shoulder blades. "Do you have practice today..?" Avery asked after a moment, hoping he would say no. "It's New Years Day, after all. We could maybe hang out here or go out or... I don't know. Something."

It had been a long time since Avery had needed to plan a get-together with Robin, and she wasn't at all sure what to suggest anymore. They were different now, both of them. Suddenly, she found herself missing the times when she could play the confident Avery who drank and just didn't care. Now she couldn't drink and had to care. And Robin was acting differently, too, in relation to the man she had met in the bar. It wasn't even the accident or the fight, she registered, since he had quieted even since their return from Greece. Though, clearly, the other events hadn't helped.

If he had told her a week ago - or before Christmas - it would have brought up a completely different reaction. One that would have involved staying in bed the entirety of the morning, regardless of her appetite being more normal. Even then, she would have questioned his words. But now, she just needed them so much that the questioning would be put on hold and brought to mind later if anything else went wrong. For now, she would revel in the idea of him being as stuck on her as she was on him.