[mp] [lisbon] pillowtalk. [marion]

"You're really not going to tell me, are you?"

Charlotte's voice was muffled as she placed her left hand over the ones her boyfriend had covering her eyes, her right arm extended outward as she wiggled her fingers, as though that would somehow help guide her. She laughed as she walked, feeling like she was drunk as she tried her best to navigate the cobblestones. The night was cool but not cold, the breeze gently kicking the ends of her thick and glossy hair as she pressed her back against Marion's chest.

He'd given her no clues, except telling her to be ready at seven sharp and she'd made it. Just. After throwing half of her wardrobe across her floor, having a screaming fit because she couldn't find anything she liked and having to sit in the bath for half an hour to calm down, Lottie was the vision of elegance. Plucked, waxed and exfoliated to within an inch of her life, her dress was almost a second skin. With diamonds in her earlobes and a slick of scarlet lipstick, she was currently on her way to an unknown destination. And she was excited.

"Come on," she whined with a pout. Usually about now, she'd be batting her eyelashes and hoping to break him down but alas, it was not on the cards. "Please?" Charlotte asked, arching her back to press into Marion, just on the off chance it'd work. It didn't.

"I hate surprises," she lied, feeling giddy as a child on Christmas morning as they wandered onwards, unsteady on her feet. Marion's body was strong and firm and he was a gentleman - he'd catch her if she fell over. The wind was picking up, making her wonder if they were somewhere near the sea. In the distance, she could hear chatter and her ears pricked up in curiosity as a shiver of anticipation thrilled down her spine. Abruptly, they stopped and Charlotte reached up to playfully tug at his fingers. They must be here.

His body was so close to hers, she felt herself smirking slowly as the hairs on the backs of her arms stood up. He was teasing. And she was impatient. "Trois, deux, un." she counted backwards from three before wriggling in his arms and managing to escape his hold as she flashed a grin over her shoulder, only for her eyes to widen considerably as she faced forward.

"Shut up," Charlotte gasped, without Marion saying a thing. Lifting a slim index finger, she pointed at the restaurant. "That's --" Alfonso Avila. She'd read the article in the paper and wrote it off, the place was full for months. She loved his spiced chocolate orange mousse. And the ravioli. And the scallops. The man was a genius and there were no flaws in his work. With her jaw hanging open, she turned back around to face Marion. "How did you get a table?" She asked in awe, her hands coming up to her face as she grinned, her dark eyes sparkling.

Without wasting time, she strode over to him to close the distance and kissed him square on the mouth, looping her arms around his neck. "This is amazing," she whispered against his lips, breaking the kiss with a slow grin as she helpfully wiped some lipstick off his bottom lip with her thumb.


@Fosse

You're really not going to tell me, are you?

"Tch, but of course not," Marion said, smiling as Charlotte tried to pry his hand off her eyes. It wasn't that comfortable for him, to lead her in tiny steps without stepping on her heels, keeping his palm pressed over her eyes without pressing too hard and smearing her makeup or, worse, accidentally hurting her. But she was laughing and they hadn't tumbled to the cobblestones yet, though right after they had apparated had been a near thing. "It is but a bit further."

Marion knew there were some things he was good at. Quidditch, mostly. How to get a fire lit under a grown wizard's buttocks, so that they flew like a rampaging dragon on the pitch. How to rally a team together, how to spot a ball flying at the head at death-defying speeds and react without thinking. How to say nothing to the press and make it sound like he was an empty-headed type of man with nothing but sport filling his waking hours. These were his strengths as a player, as a captain.

His strengths did not lie in being effortlessly romantic, in knowing what to say to a woman, how to keep a woman in love with him when the season was on and his attention pulled elsewhere. Marion did not think he was good at surprises.

This one, in particular, had taken much consultation with the witches on his team, with his sister, starting months ago. Schedules carefully consulted, favours specifically called in. A potion to keep him strong in the face of the reporter's pleas for a hint, because Merlin knew when Charlotte batted her eyelashes, pressed up against him -- like that, and Marion bit down on his lip -- he was so helpless to make her happy immediately. All this to just impress Charlotte one more time. It had made his head hurt to arrange -- luckily there was some time before her birthday.

"You adore surprises," Marion gently corrected her, a hint of a laugh trickling into his voice. A few steps more, and he stopped, gazing up at the building's front. He hardly had time to begin to say "Ah, we arrive," before Charlotte had extracted herself from his arms. Her English-accented French made him smile, and his eyes were crinkled with laughter when she turned back to him.

Shut up, she said. Marion was all too happy just to grin while she took it in. Dante de Leao, the new Avila restaurant. Any worry that he was wrong, that he had swung and missed with this choice, evaporated when Charlotte pressed her palms to her face. How did he get a table? Marion shrugged. "These things, they are not so hard to make happen." He wanted her to think this was easy, at least. Wanted to impress her.

She lept at him, and he was all too happy to let her, kissing her as deeply as she would let him. He could feel the lipstick on his mouth when she pulled away, grinned as Charlotte smudged it off. "You are amazing," he replied, words soft as he felt. He pressed another kiss to her, just on her cheek, before moving to wrap his arm around her shoulders. "Now, quickly, before they give our table away."

It was a joke -- he had written to make sure that they could not do that.

The restaurant was as grand on the inside as promised. Marion found himself staring at the ceilings, the sunset-coloured clouds moving in lazy arcs as the couple was escorted to their table. He pushed in Charlotte's chair before sitting himself, unbuttoning his suit jacket just as champagne arrived. It was fizzing and golden in the flutes. He looked over the rim of his at Charlotte, trying to keep himself from asking Do you like? before she had a chance to sip.

Amused, Lottie snorted. Of course she loved surprises, she was only kidding and she grinned when she realised Marion knew that about her, too. She loved gifts and unexpected trips out. Charlotte wasn't as rigid as her mother and much more easy-going like her father. He'd like Marion, she thought absently, but it was a bit too soon to be imagining inviting him around for Christmas dinner...or was it?

Thankfully, she had more pressing things to worry about. Like how incredibly mad he was to manage to get a table.

Marion coolly downplayed it but Charlotte grinned, giving him a good-natured eye roll. "You're such a liar," she told him fondly as she wiggled a finger at him, any apprehension that this might be too much was wiped quickly away. Her skin was tingling and she felt effervescent, like popping champagne bubbles. Usually, she loathed Valentine's Day, she'd never bought into the hype but this was different. This time, she wasn't alone on her couch, drinking cheap wine, cuddling her neighbour's cat.

At the kiss on her cheek, Charlotte leaned into his touch with a smile as her eyes fluttered closed, turning her body to slot snugly beneath his arm as she wrapped her own around his waist. She laughed, her eyes sparkling. "They better not," she wrinkled her nose. "I'm not above stabbing someone with a fork," she added casually. And she meant it.

A funny thought occurred to Charlotte as they were shown to their table, her hand still on the small of Marion's back as her eyes drifted around the restaurant. She'd originally agreed to a date, purely because he was the National Captain. She'd be able to get the inside scoop for her article, maybe "accidentally" find some of the team's plays and tactics. But then she realised he was handsome. And kind, sweet, genuine, attentive. Before she knew it, she was becoming fond of him. Very fond, actually. So much so that she might even be falling in --

"Wow," she breathed out as Marion helped her sit, offering him a dimpled smile. "This is stunning," she told him quickly, her dark eyes looking around the room to the sea of people, all as impressed as she was. Marion unbuttoned his jacket and she casually crossed her long legs at the ankle, surreptitiously slipping her left foot out of her high heel to nudge his foot with her own as she smiled slowly, an eyebrow arched.

"What?" She asked with a laugh as she caught him staring at her, her slender fingers picking up her flute to sip - the bubbles burst on her tongue, sweet, acidic, a little bit like fresh peaches - sublime. "Ooh," she said softly in appreciation after she'd swallowed. "How much do you think this costs?" She asked, already having an idea. "We should get two bottles," she joked as a glossy lock of hair fell over her left eye as her hand reached across the table to squeeze his fingers affectionately.

The restaurant was buzzing. A gentle hum of chatter and the clinking of glasses were just heard above the music that seemed to fit the ambience perfectly. Placing her champagne flute back on the table, Charlotte rested her elbow  and then her chin on her upturned palm as she gazed at Marion. "What did I do so right to deserve you?" She asked him gently, a smile curving the line of her lips. Another thought struck her. "Do you think we'll be able to meet him?" Charlotte asked, her eyes sparkling. "Avila," she clarified. "I'm a huge fan," she told Marion. "Nearly as much as I'm a fan of you," she concluded, making a kissy face at him.

"I am not a liar!" Marion exclaimed, a smile crinkling the corners of his eyes. His tone was soft still, no hint of offence coming through. Joking! He could do jokes. He pressed another quick kiss to her temple, dodging the finger waving about under his nose. Marion loved her intensity, her high energy at all times. He was pretty laid back off the pitch -- Charlotte always seemed to be flying full steam ahead, whether to write something or to threaten another patron at the restaurant. "Easy, mon chou, he murmured, squeezing lightly on her arm. "No need to attempt murder just quite yet."

He nodded, not knowing the right English to agree more with her. What could he manage? "Wow," Marion said, eyes lifting to the roof as he sat across from her. At heart he was still a simple country boy (as Charlotte certainly knew, from their first interview-date, when he had stared at a fondue fork for five seconds before attempting to use it as a toothpick), easily impressed by feats of illusion magic that had always eluded him at school. The whole place was impressive to him.

But of course, it wasn't quite impressive enough for him to not notice the distraction at his foot. Marion felt his cheeks turn a delicate shade of blink. "Lottie," he began, heavy gaze resting on her face. There was a subtle plea in his body language for surrender, for as soon as we've finished here, promise, but the champagne was there and the words were not. Lottie laughed at him -- Marion squeezed his eyes shut, smiling and flushing.

Two bottles? "Two bottles, please," Marion said, passing the request along to their server. He had no idea how much it cost -- but he did know that he had just been renewed with a bigger contract for a few more years, and that Charlotte was certainly worth the expense. Marion twisted his hand up, squeezing back into the reporter's grip.

"Deserve me?" Marion shook his head. "I believe that is, euh, backwards." Certainly it was Marion who was lucky, blessed with the beautiful, funny, intelligent woman across from him as a date tonight. As a companion. As a -- well. a very important person, that was the phrase, no?

This question, in the litany being tossed at him, Marion was actually prepared for. "Perhaps, if we are very patient," Marion teased, an eyebrow of his own arching up as he sipped his champagne. It was as much a challenge as a request -- it was a set course meal, and unless the concierge had been lying to him, Avila was supposed to present the main. Marion couldn't wait to see Charlotte's face then.

The last compliment made him smile in the bashful sort of way he tended to. Under the table, his brogues knocked lightly against Charlotte's right heel.

Marion was right - he wasn't a liar. Most of the men she'd found herself tangled up with turned out to be just that but not him. Maybe the planets had aligned or some sort of cosmic juju had happened because this felt right. She smiled at him, her nose wrinkling cutely at his kiss before she let out a heavy and melodramatic sigh. "Not even a teeny-tiny bit of stabbing?" Lottie offered before she grinned. "Fine," she huffed as she bumped into him gently. "Just because it's you."

She didn't think anyone had done something so romantic for her before. For a while, her best date had been ages ago. He was tall, dark and handsome with a smile that could melt someone's clothes off. He'd taken her to dinner at the Eiffel Tower (fancy) but he'd conveniently forgotten he'd been scared of heights, so had promptly thrown up when Charlotte had mentioned she'd wanted to see the view of the Champ de Mars (not fancy)

"Ye-es?" The tall brunette asked innocently as she batted her eyelashes, all thoughts of her disaster dates gone from her mind. Lottie didn't have the decency to hide her grin but she did bite down on her lower lip in a poor attempt to temper it. "D'accord," she relented, her eyes straying across the packed restaurant. In all fairness, no one would really notice if they nipped off to the bathroom for a quick fumble.

Marion had ordered two bottles and she smiled brightly. It was a bad idea. Charlotte hadn't eaten much all day in preparation for a meal somewhere, so accompanying that with champagne might cause a problem. Either way, Lottie was going to offer to split the bill. She was a princess but she wasn't a dick.

He fumbled over his words and her smile grew. He really was perfect. Charlotte gazed at him, her elbows on the table and her chin resting in an upturned palm. She was happy. Truly. Incandescently, rather. She'd always made fun of lovesick couples but now that she was part of one, things...weren't so terrible. Absently, Lottie let out a happy little sigh which turned into a snort of genuine laughter.

"Have you met me?" Charlotte grinned at her boyfriend. She'd been called many things - nosy, bolshy, intrusive, rude, tenacious - but never patient. Excitement bubbled in the pit of her stomach as she visibly bounced in her seat, looking like a child on Christmas morning. Lottie had met countless Quidditch players in the course of her career but they all paled in comparison to the incredibly talented chef. "I'll be cool," she promised as she sipped her champagne, them both knowing full well that if she so much as caught a whiff of Avila, she would lose her tiny mind.

The touch on her foot caused her to blink, momentarily distracted. Her big dark eyes narrowed playfully to rest on a borderline glare but her face said otherwise. With her head tilted, she leaned back in her seat, ever so casually as she surveyed Marion before she grinned. "You can't do that," she informed him, despite knowing that he absolutely could (and should) do that. As sneakily as she could, Lottie peered over her shoulder. "How much time do you think we have before the food gets here?"