[craven] it won't be like this for long [jo]

Kendrick had come back from work at half past six and immediately vanished into his and Jo's bedroom to shrug off his stifling robes (really, it was too much to expect them all to wear thick Ministry robes over their regular clothing unless it was the winter). He emerged minutes later in a fresh pair of khaki shorts and, to nobody's surprise, an orange polo shirt. At the behest of all the women in his life, he was wearing them less often, but if he ever didn't want to think about what to wear, they were still his go-to. And Merlin knew Ken Silverman hated thinking about something as daily as what to wear.

Today his normally clear gray eyes were the slightest bit troubled as he sank into a couch in the living room, and even he had no idea why. There was just a vague nagging feeling in the back of his mind, for what reason he couldn't fathom. In a month the two of them were going to celebrate their first anniversary--paper or cotton or whatever it was, no one seemed to be quite sure--and he hadn't had a happier year. Jo's constant presence at home was amazing. There were always signs, even if they weren't in the same room--for instance, at that moment there was a delicious smell wafting from the kitchen. His wife loved to cook, and everything she made was delicious. Ken himself was getting better, but he wasn't really close yet, unless someone asked him to make a killer BLT. He'd been able to do that one since he was a starving fourteen-year-old, though, so it wasn't saying much.

Normally the smell of food was enough to chase almost everything else out of the man's brain until after dinner, but the 28-year-old wanted to put a finger on whatever it was before he forgot about it, as he was somewhat wont to do. He glanced around the living room (neutrally and tastefully decorated to Jo's taste, like everywhere in the house except for his one little colorful man-not-cave). It was a little quiet, maybe. They had discussed getting a dog, but it hadn't happened quite yet. The sound of a golden retriever's tail thumping would definitely help the picture. Kendrick missed Lucy, the family dog of his childhood, who had passed away when he was 15. His parents had then gotten Winston when he was about 20, but as he'd already moved out of home he wasn't his dog the way Lu had been, or Bri's either really.

Kendrick added his dream dog to the picture in his head and looked around it a little more. Better, but it was still something else…and then he realized what they hadn't talked about as anything more than a long-term, faraway thing. Oh. Now what was he going to do about that?

He got up and headed to the dining room to help set the table up for dinner, and he knew he seemed a little out of it and that Jo would pick up on it instantly. Five minutes into dinner, Kendrick finally fought off the deliciousness that threatened to put his already abstracted brain to bed and looked at his wife almost idly over a forkful of pasta. "Jo," he said slowly, and dropped the question out of the blue. "When do you want to have kids?"

Well, no one had ever said timing was his forte.

Jo wasn't deterred by her husband's entrance into their home after a long day of work. She was used to his appearance and then prompt disappearance into the bedroom to change into a more comfortable set of clothes. Jo, on the other hand, wasn't as prone to that particular habit -- sometimes it'd simply slip her overactive mind that a change of clothes could be beneficial for easier relaxation. That was one of the many prices of being a semi-workaholic, she supposed. Semi was a necessary part of the phrase because she understood with complete consciousness that family and relationships came before her job, but she loved her job. She loved serving people, helping the public, and order.

Maybe that was why she was spending less time pondering other aspects of her life as of late. The woman was incredibly busy in the Auror department with all the new renovations and changes of policy that Kingsley was instilling in the DMLE and the entire Ministry, for that matter. They weren't bad things, of course -- Kingsley was a good friend of Jo's -- but they did require a lot of time put in and employment of rigorous reform tactics. She was staying late more than usual, preparing for the incoming trainees, and trying to restructure her way of thinking around the new dynamics of the department. It was all a stressful endeavor, but if it promoted justice and moved things toward the light, she was all-in.

Currently, she was humming an aimless little tune while she swept the spatula around the pan a few more times to remove any excess sauce from the sides. Italian food had to be one of her favorites to eat and cook. It was unfortunate, anyway, because she liked to stay fit and healthy and the amount of carbohydrates in pasta and the other rich foods hailing from Italy were counterproductive to her lifestyle. That said, she was well-versed in all different types of cuisine and pasta was a rare treat nowadays in the Silverman household. With less time at home in general, there was less time to exercise, so that meant less pasta.

A tiny little smile ghosted across the woman's lips when she noticed his form in the dining room setting the table. She almost never had to worry about that -- if she cooked, she found that often times, he'd end up doing much of the extra preparation and cleanup without being asked. Jocasta transferred the noodles into a bowl and tossed the salad she'd made with a light vinaigrette, carefully moving out of the kitchen with a bowl in each hand to place them on the table in front of her husband.

Jocasta found it odd that he hadn't said anything to her a few minutes into their dining experience, and she'd been about to say something to inquire about his uncharacteristic silence, but Kendrick beat her to the punch. Quite taken with surprise, her fork dropped to the plate with a faint clink and she finished the bite of salad she'd just taken, swallowing hard -- both to down the food and a haphazard reaction. "Um," She began, light eyebrows raised in a gentle arch while she looked at him.

"That was -- well, that kind of came out of the blue, don't you think?" A nervous, slightly amused laugh fell from her lips, and she supposed now was as good a time as ever to discuss the matter. They'd both known they definitely wanted children, but it had been another thing entirely to actually talk about specifics. Their house was decently sized, and it was comfortable for them, but it really only had enough room to house the two of them. There was a guest room for special occasions in which they had temporary residents, but it didn't serve the purpose of a longterm bedroom. She thought a moment, reaching for the glass of white wine in front of her to take a long drink. "I suppose it's as good as any time to start thinking about that. Work's not going to get any less busy and -- well, nothing's going to get any less busy." She pointed out, rolling her eyes playfully. "What brought this up?" Jo asked him, eyes narrowing slightly in on his expression.

Kendrick couldn't resist the laughter that bubbled up upon seeing Jo's fork drop from her hand to her plate, but he stopped within a kind amount of time. "Sorry," he said, amusement still clear in his voice. "You know I've never been that great at timing," he said, tone sheepish. "With anything that's not a hex or a Quaffle save, anyway." Except for his proposal. That he'd gotten spot-on. But he might have discussed that one with Bri beforehand, so he couldn't claim all the credit. But it had been his idea. He tilted his head at her and smiled wryly, partly because her laugh had sounded rather nervous and had suddenly made him nervous, which he certainly hadn't been upon asking the question.

He took a forkful of salad and chewed on it thoughtfully. Rather like a cow chewing on cud, but that wasn't exactly a flattering comparison. Maybe he would tell Jo about it if the mood needed especial lightening at any point. "You know, honestly, I was just sitting on the couch in the living room and thinking how it was a little quiet. And you know we talked about getting a dog, but I imagined one into the picture and it was still a little quiet. And then I realized what was missing. Maybe I feel old and need to see my youth rejuvenated in young faces," he joked. As if he wasn't still terribly young at heart despite his sometimes imposing adult exterior.

Kendrick was serious about his inquiry, though, despite his flippant comments. Sometimes he still felt so young at 28, nearly 29--especially in the Wizarding world, where people tended to live for rather longer than Muggles. But like the generation spanning from his parents to Harry's parents, war had made them grow up quickly, and realize how precious and fleeting their lives could be. It was true that they'd waited until the war was over to get married, but part of him was just ready to have his own family, to cement their settling down. Life to counter the death they'd been surrounded with. Sometimes it sounded impulsive and immature, but part of it was just his belief--that they wanted it, that it was possible, and that they were ready.

Still, his wife's surprise made him backpedal a little. Kendrick had far less responsibility at work than Jo did, and Kingsley's reformations were making big waves in the Auror department (of course, given that Kingsley had been an Auror)--much more than the AMRS, which was about the same as ever. Kendrick thought he might get a promotion eventually, but for the moment he was content to have less paperwork. "I know it's kind of random," he said apologetically. "I mean, we both know we want kids, but even if it's unlikely to slow down, Kingsley has you running all the time. It's just been in the back of my mind, I guess." Even if he hadn't recognized it then.

Jo gripped the neck of the wine glass a little tighter in her fingers and swirled it around aimlessly. "No, no, the timing was fine." She muttered, lips quirking up into a grin. A little disjointed and random, yes, but what was to be expected from her husband? Another sip later, she peered over the rim of the glass, humming a hollow noise against it. "A little quiet, huh?" Her question was curious, inquisitive -- of course sitting around and thinking about their future was completely harmless. She couldn't blame him, after all -- they'd been married for some time now and Jo was a notorious workaholic. Reform and endless tasks at the ministry tended to roadblock her longterm planning and got in the way of future-speculating, no matter how much she liked to have a game plan. All of that was immediate. Maybe it was time to make their lives immediate.

Setting her wine glass down on he table, she picked up her fork to chew on a mouthful of pasta -- and her response. Eyes tilting toward the ceiling, she took that moment to ponder, then focused her eyes on her husband. "Perhaps there is something missing. You're not old, that's for certain, Kendrick, but... maybe it is time to consider having kids?" Both eyebrows raised, she offered another bright smile. "I mean... you know. I'm not getting any younger, either." This prompted a childish wink. She was only twenty-five -- a perfectly respectable age to start thinking about having children, but Jo had known people who had gotten married right out of school and begun the process at eighteen years old. It was difficult for the ambitious witch to imagine having children that were almost ten years old.

"I realize we've briefly talked about this before, but -- had we decided how many children we wanted, exactly?" She had an idea, of course, but Jo wasn't about to cut the conversation short by presenting any ultimatums. Three? Four? The more they had, the closer they'd need to squeeze them together. They were looking at a large chunk of their lives devoted to making a family. Not that she was opposed -- in fact, it brought a sort of silvery tingle of excitement down her spine, but she hadn't thought about it happening so soon. "Now it's at the front of my mind. I mean, yeah, Kingsley's got me working all the time, but -- it's not like we can't make things work. We've made plenty of stuff work in the past. We're talented with juggling double-lives already."

Jo was very preoccupied with her wine glass. Kendrick had barely touched his, which had a lot less in it to begin with--after years and years of trying, he still wasn't great with alcohol--but he was starting to think he should play with glasses more. They gave you so much more opportunity for expression and body language. He let his wife mull the question over--truth be told, he was getting distracted looking at the way her hair fell down over her shoulders, and how some of it framed the gentle curve of her face. Merlin, but she was beautiful. An image flashed briefly in his mind of the two of them at 14 and 11, when they'd met, him a lanky teenager tripping over himself if he wasn't careful, her just past childhood, really, and the corner of his mouth quirked up in a smile. Well, they'd both gotten better with age.

He was brought back to earth by the feeling of her eyes on him and quickly brought his gaze up to meet hers. "I'm not?" he teased. "The way you hear Mum talk about it, you'd think her dear little boy was getting on sixty or so. And..." he gave an impish grin in response to her wink, with a 'you asked for it' kind of look in his eyes, "I'm sure your eggs are shriveling up as we speak. Alarming, really." It was an extremely dumb phrase Ash Riley had used when they were still in school to talk about girls, and Kendrick had not really been able to use it since, despite all the lovely potential it had for making eyes widen in shock or horror or perhaps just narrow with disdain. He could say that kind of thing around Jo, though, even if it did earn him a swat or a roll of the eyes. He was never afraid to say anything around her.

How many children? On the whole, Kendrick felt like two was about average for families he knew, or even less in some cases, barring outliers like the Weasleys. But he certainly did not want to raise an only child, and while two had worked for him and Briony, he thought he'd be quite happy to have more. Kendrick was a family-oriented man, and he was all for having more people to lavish his love on. "Three?" he offered tentatively. "We want them to have opportunities to do all the things they want to, and space, and everything. But more than two, I hope." Jo's family had four, but he also noted that Catriona was a lot younger than Jo. If they waited too long in between their oldest would be at Hogwarts before the youngest could remember much, and he also hoped his children could be close the way he and Bri were.

Kendrick laughed, a clear and cheerful sound. "I think kids count as a double life on their own, from what I hear," he said, remembering his own childish antics. Poor Lucy. He took a bite and turned serious. "We don't have to decide now. And if we start trying, that'll probably take time, and then there'll still be time before, you know, they're born. So there's still all the time in the world before anything happens. We could, you know, start with the dog," he said with a laugh. "I just felt like it was as good a time to talk about it as any."

"Sixty!" That earned a choking noise and she worked to swallow down the mouthful of sweet liquid in her mouth. She laughed after that, a sort of strangled grumble while she finished catching her breath, and she set it down on the table with a hollow clunk. Jo tended to think Kendrick's family had a better sense of humor than hers did. They'd learned to be a bit more candid with one another. She supposed that was part of the reason she was, indeed, closer to Kendrick's sister Briony than to her own sisters -- that, and the age gap that made relating just a tad more difficult.

The next bit had her reeling. Eggs? Shriveling up?! Oh, no. He wasn't getting away with such an abhorrent crime as that. "Kendrick Matthew!" Jocasta exclaimed, eyes popping open to wide saucers. "If we weren't at the dinner table, I'd swat your butt." She warned, reverting back to the expression she knew he'd recognize -- a raised brow and a skeptical gaze. "Where did you hear that? I'm almost positive you didn't come up with it yourself." Her voice was teasing as she delicately scooped another forkful of the food into her mouth and allowed him to move on, listening attentively to whatever he was going to suggest. She valued his opinion, of course. More than anyone else's, she valued Kendrick's. He tended to provide a more emotional and compassionate purview on -- well, everything -- when she had an issue delving into those instincts by herself.

"Let's, um... plan for three?" The offer was sincere and she nodded a couple of times to punctuate it, flicking her warm brown gaze across the table to focus on him and how he reacted to the affirmation. "And see what happens." The corners of her mouth twitched and she fidgeted in her seat, realizing she was feeling the way she always felt when she ventured into a new type of mission or assignment. This was most definitely uncharted territory. They'd made it as school friends, battle partners, and soulmates. Who was to say that conquering something like parenting wouldn't be a cakewalk, considering that colorful track record?

This time around, she was shaking her head, eyes fluttering shut for a brief moment to mull over the amusement she felt deep in her stomach. "We're not that old. Trying won't take that long, especially if I pick up a potion that helps with that. They have a formula for everything." The pause she made then was thoughtful, pondering, and she narrowed her eyes the next time she made eye contact with him, presenting a solution to the dog problem. "Maybe we could get a puppy relatively soon? Let it... you know. Bond with the baby when he or she comes."

Kendrick laughed out loud at her choked response. "Oops, bad timing. Sorry about the wine," he apologized, ready to offer a napkin but noting that it wasn't necessary. "But you know, she's always going on about how old I've gotten. Maybe she thinks my glory days are behind me, now that I've stopped setting things on fire," he grinned impishly, knowing that his mother, though strangers had always called her spirited, had found him a handful when he was younger. She liked Jo a whole lot, though, and he supposed she was glad he was settling down. It helped that he was getting a tad more responsibility at work now, his experience making him often the coordinator for those medium-sized dispatchments where it wasn't just a one-man-job but everyone on duty, and Donald at their head, wasn't needed. At least they'd done their parents proud, he thought. And Brandon Silverman seemed to think the Order of the Phoenix had made up for his not being an Auror, even though he made quips about why Oliver Odell hadn't told him about it instead of his son.

A slightly gleeful, slightly abashed laugh escaped his lips as his wife's eyes popped. It had been ages since he'd gotten to pull that off, and it was just as amusing as he thought it would be. "Oh, you can do that afterwards if you really want," he winked mischievously. "Ash told me, of course. Who else? He used to say it when we were still in school and he was feeling grumpy about some girl--or a teacher he didn't like." They had been such good days, and they were also, he noted, about half a lifetime away. Kendrick was turning 29 in July, and that was awfully close to 30. It was strange to think about how 4th year was 14 years ago. That was the year they'd met. "Speaking of which, you know I've known you for half my life now?" he added, smiling at her warmly. Of course, that had happened almost five years ago for her, but that was the funny thing about metrics like half one's life.

He nodded at her, grinning widely. "It's a plan." Fatherhood. He hoped he'd be anything like his dad. His dad had taught him so much. Kendrick blinked twice, though, at the mention of potions. "They do? You know, I still learn new things about women all the time..." It wasn't exactly as if they'd learned how to make...fertility potions in school, at least. How did you go about testing that kind of formula on willing volunteers? What if it had the opposite effect? Did potionsmasters just try it on themselves? Were there such things as test animals when it came to that? It was probably best not to know. "Yes, let's do that," he agreed. "We can ask around, check out a few places? There's that shelter where Ben got Hank, and there's where my parents got Winston, and there's that--you know, the one Auror-in-training who was in the DA," that described half of them, "his parents run a pet store? Forget the name."