[cotswolds] they say love is a virtue [oliver]

27 january 2002

Twenty-four. Quinn Regan was twenty-four now. Positively ancient. She should feel worse about it, she supposed, but maybe she had too many things going well in her life for her to be worried about something so insignificant as being another year older. Most likely, though, was that it just hadn’t hit her yet, not properly. She had only been awake for ten minutes, after all. She hadn’t moved more than to glance at the clock (half eight) and fully determine that she was quite alone in the room.

The sun had woken her up rather than her alarm or the loud man she shared her bed with or the cute little baby that slept in a bassinet a foot away. She didn’t like sleeping in, even if she had nowhere to be. And today, she truly had nowhere to be. Her mother had cancelled the traditional family breakfast, telling her that now she had her own family, it was time to start making traditions of her own. Quinn got the feeling that her mother also wasn’t thrilled enough with the cleanliness of the house in Dublin -- she had been staying in England since her granddaughter had arrived -- to host any sort of meal, but her mother was the one person she didn’t want to argue with.

The rest of her mother’s gift was to leave Quinn and Oliver properly alone with their daughter for the first time in the two weeks she had been there. It was only natural that everyone wanted to see Lula -- she was half Quinn’s --  so there had always been someone else in the house, whether it was one of their mothers or another visiting relative or some other visitor they actually wanted to see. Of course, there would be people back in the house later that evening for dinner. She couldn’t not celebrate her birthday without some sort of admiration. But until then, she had the whole day to figure out that new family tradition.

Quinn sat up slowly and sniffed, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she yawned. Glancing out the window, her eyes fell on all that land, all that airspace just perfect for flying. She had every intention of flying today -- birthday rules stated she could do whatever she wanted -- as she needed to be ready to return to training in a few days, once February rolled around. So far only her manager and captain knew of her impending return to the pitch, but she planned to use birthday rules to tell Oliver today, too.

She pushed back the blankets and moved to the edge of the bed, the stone floor cold against her bare feet. That was just another thing they needed to do to make the house a home, buy a rug for their bedroom. Why had no one gifted them a rug yet? They had received countless things she didn’t want, like baby-sized United paraphernalia and Gryffindor-themed nursery set, why not throw in a rug or two? But that wasn’t important, she reminded herself as she stood up to find some socks and pull on a sweater. It was her birthday.

It was warmer downstairs and she followed the sounds and smells into the kitchen, one eyebrow raised as she leaned against the doorway and took in the scene. Oliver, shirtless and with his back to her, standing over the stove with a baby in one hand and a spatula in the other. She assumed he wasn’t cooking anything that could splatter back on him or Lula, deciding to instead enjoy what she was seeing.

What was it her healer had implored her with after Lula was born? ‘You can look but you can’t touch.’ It was hard advice to listen to, that was for sure, especially when he looked so positively domestic. Plus, distracting Oliver with sex was her only surefire way to win an argument and she was sure there was no way they could avoid that today -- the argument, that is. There was no way he would care for her decision to return to flying so soon. But she was the good quidditch player in the house and it was her birthday, so really, he’d just have to deal with it.

Later.

Now, she would love for all the birthday admirations to get underway. She slipped into the kitchen with a sleepy, “Mornin’,” reaching up on tiptoes to leave a kiss on Oliver’s cheek before dipping back down and leaving another on Lula’s forehead. She was fast asleep and her eyes stayed close even as Quinn made noise hoisting herself up onto the counter and slid back a few inches, making herself comfortable. The kitchen wasn’t as cluttered as it was when her mother wasn’t practically living with them and she had, on more than one occasion, not been able to find something she was looking for after her mother had so lovingly rearranged all the cabinets.

“Want me to take her?” She’d take Lula even if he didn’t want her to, honestly. Birthday rules.

Stifling a yawn Oliver gently bounced Lula with his left arm while his right was busy flipping some French toast. It was Quinn’s birthday, and he’d planned on surprising her in bed with breakfast, but everyone had gotten a late start this morning Lula included, so the brunette wasn’t surprised to hear Quinn pad into the kitchen behind him, spoiling his initial plan. “G’morning to you, too birthday girl” he said as he shot her a lazy grin and blew her a kiss. In the comfortable silence that followed Oliver took a moment to admire her, still sleepy, but also just as beautiful as ever. At her next question through he couldn’t stop a tiny frown from creasing his brow “No…I’m making breakfast so I get extra baby snuggles this morning” if he hadn’t been entirely smitten with both his daughter and Quinn, he might have found it ridiculous that he was arguing over who got to hold her and when.

Birthday or no birthday, Oliver wasn’t going to let Lula go without putting up a fight, and a very quiet fight at that. Judging the last piece of French toast to be done, Oliver busied himself with putting a plate together for both of them. There was sliced fruit, breakfast meat, and anything else he could think of that Quinn might want with her breakfast, including herbal tea. Deftly, Oliver offered Quinn’s plate to her, careful to keep Lula out of her reach. He realized he was probably being only slightly petulant, but Lula was all baby’s breath and cuteness, and she was still sleeping to boot.

Before she could balk, the ex-Gryffindor quickly pulled out a small gift bag and card. Someone had been kind enough to get Lula a Gryffindor themed onsie with a roaring lion on the front, but not wanting Quinn to feel snubbed, he’d found someone to make Lula a Slytherin quidditch jersey with Regan on the back, mother like daughter, after all. Joining the little jersey in the bag was a small silver charm that held their first family photo together. It was probably something she would find cheesy, but Oliver decided it would be something he would regret not giving her later in life – plus he knew that Lula would be grown before either one of them would really be ready for it – so he figured he could afford to be sentimental this birthday.

“I know you didn’t want Lula to have any more Gryffindor swag, but I couldn’t resist” He teased as he held out the bag and card.

Seated on the counter, Quinn was able to deliver her scowl at eye level. “I was just trying to be nice, but if you want to be rude about it...” She shrugged, more annoyed that he had called her out for trying to steal her child than being denied it in the first place. Quinn crossed her arms across her chest with a final roll of her eyes, somehow managing to take her eyes off her daughter and survey what was happening on the stovetop.

She raised an eyebrow, pleasantly surprised that the breakfast Oliver was putting together looked wholly edible -- never mind that it looked good. A little heavy, maybe, but nonetheless good. She didn’t offer to help again, not after he so pleasantly refused her kind words a few minutes ago, even as he started plating things up. He was probably trying not to be obvious about it, but he was clearly just as uncoordinated in the kitchen as he was on the pitch and Quinn simply rolled her eyes again as Lula stayed conveniently out of her reach.

He handed her a plate, filled with just about every breakfast food she could think of. Normally, she would be a bit wary of all the calories she would be about to consume, but considering she was planning to do an actual workout later, she was ready to dig in. Plus, she wasn’t about to criticize all the effort Oliver was putting into things; she didn’t want him to stop trying to impress her. She picked up a strawberry from the plate and took a bite, before sliding off the counter to settle into a chair at the small table across the room. She tried to distract herself with food, but it was hard to take her eyes off of Oliver as he plated up his own breakfast, still cradling Lula in the crook of his arm. The corners of her mouth twitched upwards before she caught herself and wiped the crooked, half smile off her face.

But then: presents. Her smile was back, and she nearly forgot that he had denied her the gift of holding her daughter just minutes before. She saw the bag before he could speak, though once the words left his mouth, her smile turned into a smirk. “Wow, so very thoughtful of you. Really.” Lula already had more Gryffindor things than Quinn could ‘lose’ without arousing suspicion; hopefully he wasn’t just regifting one of the things she had already gotten rid of. She really needed to work on her vanishing skills.

Pushing her plate to the side, Quinn took the bag almost reluctantly and started pulling the contents out in front of her. She opened the card first, rolling her eyes at Oliver’s version of a birthday poem that somehow managed to rhyme ‘Falcons suck’ with an invitation to sleep with him. “Cute.” But her smile returned in full when she pulled out the tiny Slytherin jersey. She turned it over quickly and examined it closer before looking up with a raised eyebrow at the man seated next to her. He might have been rubbing it in, yet again, that she had never made her house team, or he could have been completely thoughtful and actually purchased something that he hated just to make her happy. She wasn’t about to give him the benefit of the doubt.

There was another something in the bag, and Quinn fished it out, her eyes welling up almost as soon as she realized what she was holding. “Oh.” It was a rare occasion that rendered her speechless, but she couldn’t find a single thing to hate about the photo (she looked great), the charm (it looked like something she would actually wear, the family (even Oliver included). “Wow.” She wiped a rogue tear away with the heel of her hand. “Ugh, stupid hormones.” She glanced up at Oliver, rolling her eyes. “So stupid.”

Quinn leaned in, dropping her voice for a quick, “It’s perfect,” and placed d a light kiss on his lips. She straightened up quickly, her fist still closed around the charm, and picked up another slight of fruit with her free hand. Now was probably as good a time as any, so soon after she had distracted him with a moment of emotional weakness. “You want to fly after this? I thought I’d get back out today. It’s been long enough, I think.”