when the smile on your lips is the livest thing [david]

Mon dieu, was it cold, and merlin's beard, was this probably a terrible idea.

Bouncing on her toes to stay warm, Marine Reinard really wasn't sure what she was doing and couldn't bring herself to knock. She'd never been one to plan things out very far in advance but even she knew that showing up on unannounced on someone's doorstep on a Saturday evening wasn't recommended. What if he wasn't home? Or worse, what if he was home, but wasn't alone? It had been months since she'd last written the man who's weekend plans she was about to stomp all over, and even longer since they'd actually seen each other. If the French witch was honest with herself, the odds were quite high that David would not be alone tonight - and why should he be? Her friend was tall, handsome, kind and a Healer- a fact Marine had been told really counted for something in the grand scheme of pairing off and settling down.

The longer she stood on his doorstep, the more convinced the slender brunette became that she should turn around and leave. For all she knew, David could have gone off and gotten married since the last time they'd seen each other. Rubbing her hands together to bring feeling back into her fingers, she glanced at the watch on her wrist. Half past seven meant his new (imaginary?) wife was probably setting the table for the dinner they'd cooked together that would be more filling and more delicious than the offering of bread and cheese Marine had tucked in a grocery bag slung over her shoulder.

She should go. Yes. That would be the smart thing to do. She should turn around, go back home, drink the bottle of wine she'd somehow managed not to break in the floo journey or while lugging halfway across London, and write him a letter. Invite him to come visit like a normal person. Find out whether or not he had indeed married someone like the statuesque model with a silly, exotic name Marine was picturing as her imagination well and truly ran away from her. She should go.

And yet - it was cold. She'd come all this way (rather underdressed for the biting cold in just a black turtleneck sweater and simple, well-worn jeans) and in the fifteen minutes she'd been shivering on his doorstep trying to decide whether or not she was going to knock, Marine hadn't heard any of the raucous laughter of marital bliss coming from the other side of the door...

So she knocked. Once softly, and then, realizing her toes might well and truly freeze inside her boots if she didn't get inside soon, once again more decidedly. Stepping back from the door, Marine nervously ran slender fingers through her hair trying to tame it and hoped the flush of embarrassment and freezing temperatures that surely colored her cheeks didn't make her look feverish.

At the sound of footsteps approaching, she glanced over her shoulder and wondered if she could run away fast enough to avoid being seen without falling. Sighing, she realized her chances of escape were unlikely - the stairs were icy and she wasn't graceful in the least. Turning her attention back to the door, Marine took a deep breath, bit her lip nervously and tried to think of something witty to say if she did indeed find herself face to face with the six foot and curvy Mrs. Harrison she'd envisioned when the door finally opened.

It was bitter tonight.

London was covered with a thick layer of snow but it wasn't like the romantic Victorian snow of London. The snow now was pigeon-poked and grimy, more like slush than anything else. Now dark, the temperature was dropping and the melted snow was now rapidly turning into ice and sheet ice at that.

The Christmas rush was over and now that the joy of New Year was over too, it was a long old slog to Valentine's Day. Dave had been working. Sunny had been at her mother's over the festive period and the only person he'd wanted to kiss at the stroke of midnight was currently tucked away in Paris. He should have written to her and asked. The worst thing that could have happened would be that she'd say no. Best outcome? She'd be here tonight and they'd be cuddling on the sofa.

In the bathroom, Dave rubbed his head with a towel as he'd just stepped out of the shower, dressing in a cream coloured cable-knit jumper and a snug pair of jeans, fumbling for his glasses as he exited the bathroom. After a rough day at work, the last thing he wanted as any residue. He didn't have any plans for dinner, he assumed just whatever was microwaveable in the fridge would have to suffice.

With the fridge open, a knock at the door made him blink. His ocean coloured eyes slid to the clock on the wall; half even. Odd time to be calling. Closing the fridge, he strode through his home. It was small but it was home and it was one of the better areas of the capital. It was leafy enough to be fashionable but not expensive enough to be trendy. Ideally, he wanted a house but he needed to find the right woman first. Well, no. That was a lie. He'd met the right woman, she just happened to live in France but if she loved him too, he'd happily move to Paris. He wouldn't even think twice about it.

Down the steps he jogged and recoiled at the whoosh of frigid night air made him recoil.

"Marine?" Dave blurted out, eyes wide in surprise that the one person he was thinking about just happened to materialise. His head swooped in his chest and he blushed, standing like a doofus in the street and then he remembered. "Oh shoot. Come in. You look as frozen as an ice cream," he gushed, holding open the door and stepping back to allow her inside. "A very pretty ice cream, of course," he added with another fierce blush. His hair was still damp and a freshly showered scent hung around him but he wished he'd dressed up. Marine was the type of woman who deserved a  bit of effort.

They hadn't yet climbed the stairs but he turned in the hall and placed a warm kiss on one of her cheeks before looping his arms around her waist and giving her an affectionate squeeze. "This is a lovely surprise," he told her with a lopsided and dimpled grin, his hands running up and down her arms to try and spread a little warmth. She wasn't dressed for the season but then again, London was always more fierce than Paris.

"Come on," he said, taking her much smaller hand in hers easily as they turned and opened his front door. His apartment was always clean, he was meticulous. Cream coloured walls and comfy sofas, numerous bookcases and funky framed Muggle movie posters adorned the walls. It was a nice and welcoming atmosphere and anything tended to go here, he wasn't fussed. Closing it behind him, he offered another smile that reached his eyes. "Did you bring me dinner?"

"Surprise?" Marine didn't realize she'd been holding her breathe until she let out a deep sigh of relief when Dave appeared at the door. He seemed rightfully surprised to see her, and more than a bit flustered, but not- it seemed, in an upset way. Phew. So much for worrying about a Mrs. Harrison, though she did take a quick glance at his ring finger as she passed through the door he ushered her through. Finding it bare, the nervous knot in her stomach loosened considerably and as they continued down the hall, a happy skip finding its way into her step.

Just being out of the wind and frigid air was doing wonders in returning feeling to her limbs, but being pulled into a spontaneous hallway embrace made Marine nearly forget all about the cold, the winter, the world. Leaning in to his arms with a happy sigh, she hoped he wouldn't notice the way his touch was adding to the goosebumps on her arms rather than taking them away. "I'm not intruding on anything, am I?" Reaching up to tousle  his hair, still damp from a recent shower and noting how the creamy color of his sweater made the blue in his eyes all the more striking. If he'd been headed out on a date, he certainly could have done worse and still looked wonderful. "If you've got plans, I can always come by another time? Owl first- like a normal person, though... I'm honestly not sure where my owl has gone to, so perhaps..." Her voice trailed off as she blushed, realizing she'd been rambling and also that if Dave had had plans, her lost owl stories certainly wouldn't make the situation any less awkward. Right.

Another sigh of relief as he took her hand and led the rest of the way to his apartment. Following him in she couldn't help but smile at just how very him the place was. Clean, organized, but just the right amount of light and humor to be utterly charming. It couldn't have been more different from her own apartment above her museum which was permanently in a state of chaos- paintbrushes, bits of paper in every corner, books and clothing strewn about, but it was a different she rather liked. Bookshelves. She might have to try those.

So absorbed in taking in the details of his home, she only barely registered that he'd asked her a question. "Hmm?" she drew her attention away from the posters and daydreams of back rows in movie theaters and back to her host. "Oh yes! Well... sort of. You'll see." While she probably had bread and cheese for seventy percent of her meals, Marine still wasn't sure it would qualify as an actual dinner. She gave his hand an affectionate squeeze before releasing it and heading in the direction that seemed most likely to offer a kitchen, where she started rummaging through cabinets, taking down glasses and plates, not pausing to think about the fact that no matter how at home she'd felt the second she stepped through the door, she was still a guest and sometimes riffling through drawers was frowned upon...

"Have you got a corkscrew handy? If we can start with the wine, I might just regain feeling in my toes before August."

His otherwise boring and non-descript day instantly got better with her arrival. Marine was like a breath of fresh, rose scented air. She was captivating and funny and so cute, he sometimes forgot to breathe in her presence. It was the strangest thing.  Dave felt himself lift considerably as  he just grinned at her, big and dippy as she fumbled over her words.

"No," he told the Frenchwoman swiftly as he reached out to clasp both of her forearms warmly as he laughed. "Nope. No plans," he said breezily, eager to let Marine know that she wasn't interrupting. She was more than welcome to stop by any time she wanted to. Literally any time. Seriously. "You look beautiful," he said fondly, his eyes drawn to her little red nose and he grinned again. It was impossible not to. David was a tough Northerner, he could handle anything but he forgot that it was never this cold across the channel and she must be suffering. It wasn't funny but he couldn’t help but laugh. She was so cute. His mood had lifted so far off the ground, he just wanted to keep her forever.

"Sorry about your lost owl," the Healer told Marine over his shoulder as they entered his apartment. "It's a bit late to look for him or her now so we can try in the morning?" As soon as the words were out, he blushed deeply. "Not that you need to stay or anything," he blabbered, his blush deepening and burning his ears as he coughed. "I mean, you can if you want to, I won't say no or anything." It was getting worse and Dave visibly winced and recoiled slightly in horror. "The wind's been pretty crazy lately," he managed to stammer out. "I'm sure your owl's just been blown off course a little. If it turns up here, I'll let you know."

Like the more adorable little whirlwind, Dave leaned against the wall and watched the painter dash around with a bemused expression on his face. He wasn't offended and Marine seemed to be finding everything pretty easily as she went along. It was rather bizarre, too. Marine fit in here perfectly. The space seemed bigger and brighter since her arrival. As her back was turned, his large ocean coloured eyes trailed over her figure but not in an obscene way. He noted the way her hips sloped and the highlights of pale brown in her hair and the way her fingers were both long and elegant as she collected plates and cutlery expertly.

"Hm?" Dave asked distractedly, shaking his head to rid the image of Marine painting that wafted around his brain. He imagined her wearing an oversized white shirt with her hair pulled back and paint smudge on her cheek. It was overwhelmingly vibrant. "Oh right." Back on planet Earth, he stepped forward and opened a draw to Marine's left. He plugged the corkscrew into the top of the bottle and expertly eased out the cork with a satisfying pop! and set about filling two wine glasses.

"Oh gosh, I'm sorry. Here." With that, he eased the cream coloured sweater off his body and swiftly pulled it over Marine's head. There was still heat clinging to the jumper from his body and he swiftly rubbed his hands up and down her arms to generate heat. "Better?" He asked, the corners of his mouth lilting upwards as he saw her slender body engulfed in the pale fabric. In his haste to make sure Marine was comfortable, Dave had quite forgotten that he was half naked with his torso on show.

"Oh no," he whispered. "Give me one second." With that,  he turned and sprinted to his bedroom. David couldn't remember the last time he'd dressed so quickly. He blindly grabbed the first shirt his fingers touched, a pale blue button down, had yanked it on. Annoyed with himself and his clumsiness, he hastily tucked in his shirt and yanked the door back open, pink cheeked and out of breath. "Sorry," he added hastily. "I wasn't expecting to show you that on a first date." It slipped out so casually, he wanted it to be a date. Keen not to make her feel uncomfy,  he continued. "So!" He said briskly, clapping his hands together as he peered into what she'd brought with her. "Camembert! My favourite," he gushed.