December 26th, 1894 - Brooks' Home

Brooks had finally stopped reeling from the incident with Morrigan last week. He felt like such an idiot, letting her goad him like that, but fuck if he hadn't been satisfied afterward.

Of course that made him feel like a guilty asshole. What had he been thinking? Brooks had a ring for Effie in the nightstand right next to the bed he'd just fucked his ex-fiancée in. It was deplorable. Disgusting. At one point he'd considered telling Effie she was better off without him. The problem was, he was definitely not better off without her. Brooks wouldn't get another chance. There was now way he'd ever manage to secure another chance. It was one-time thing. He would never do it again. The curiosity had been satiated. It wasn't like he and Effie were anything official yet. Today he hoped to change it. This second chance was so desperately needed he couldn't talk himself out of it.

And so he'd kept his plans with Effie for Boxing Day. They'd each spent Christmas in their own spaces, today he was hoping he could muster up the concentration to follow through with his original plans. He'd bathed and put on a neat, but comfortable suit and Mrs. Coleman had baked the promised pies and done up a little spread of leftovers for them to enjoy this afternoon. The ring was in his pocket and it felt a little heavy, but Brooks was trying not to think about it. This was going to be the fresh start he needed.

Once Mrs. Coleman had shown Effie in, Brooks stood and smiled. "I'm glad you made it."

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@"Effie Clarke"

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   Effie Watson

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Christmas Day had been all well and good, but this year Boxing Day brought its own intrigue – she was seeing Brooks, and more than that, he had invited her to his house. Effie was sure there was some clue in that. It signified something, didn’t it? Some intention.

(She couldn’t quite convince herself he would go to such trouble just for some pies, no matter how good they were purported to be.)

Nevertheless, she was trying to ignore the uncommon flutter of nerves in her stomach – she daren’t call them butterflies. Instead, she tried to drink in all she could about Brooks’ house, as though she might learn all there was to him by memorising the layout of rooms or the wallpaper, the books on his shelves or the (in the style of a bachelor, not very forthcoming) decor. “I try to be predictable in my appointments,” Effie said brightly, as she met Brooks in his parlour – and it was true, that she didn’t like to go back on her promises if she could help it, and be promptly on time if she was expected. “Besides, you did promise me pies. Have you had a good week?” She added, meaning not just Christmas day, but since she had last seen him at the Ministry ball. (Perhaps the nerves were making her more talkative than usual?)

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Predictability was good, it was something he needed and so he greeted her warmly, gesturing for her to have a seat on the sofa next to him. Her question about the week since he'd seen her last was innocuous enough, but he still bristled a little before forcing himself to relax, to exhale a chuckle at her comment about the pie. "Busy, but the holidays often are." He'd thrown himself into his current work project for a few days, working late and to the point of exhaustion, which had helped him push past any desire to have a drink or do anything else remotely stupid.

"And yourself? How was your visit to your family?" Brooks was glad her relationship with her family had somewhat survived the magical-muggle divide; he wouldn't wish what he'd grown up with on anyone. That abandonment left deep scars that he still didn't know how to properly deal with. That wasn't the point of the question though and so he refocused. He wanted to get to know he better, not the superficial courtship conversations they often had in public (which he did enjoy), but he also thought that if he was going to go through with this plan, he should start making better progress now.

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She did not quite understand why the holidays should be busy for him – surely his department did not have anything pressing over Christmas, or at least nothing like the assorted chimney incidents the Floo Network Office had to deal with? But he had said busy, so that was that – a gentleman’s prerogative not to elaborate.

And he had asked about her family, so Effie let out a small, confidential sigh. She had complained to Annie enough over the years about her family, and she did not want to mark herself out as complaining here – especially not to Brooks, who would understand some of her difficulties, since he had it far worse than she did. But she had never been one to sugarcoat, either, so she settled for the sober facts. “Oh, alright. It’s always nice to see my sisters. A little odd, though – we don’t have much in common any more, so there’s never as much to say as we might like.”

Effie couldn’t help but feel she didn’t fit in, however hard everyone tried. Their lives looked a little different to hers. Two of them were married (to muggles also, of course), and had young children. All of them asked Effie things in return, but curiosity about the magical world only saw them so far. “I suppose half the day is rather spent deciding how unhappy our parents are with each other this year.” Her mother had been drinking, and fallen in a mood when the first minor detail had not gone to plan; her father had mostly talked about himself and his work. “But they’re the family I have, so.” She smiled, a slight joke – but the truth was, she was always quietly grateful to get back to her own life, even if it was a little lonely.

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The way she described it, Brooks wondered if perhaps he was fortunate in being spared any true sort of contact with his own family. That sort of tight, awkward fete would not be something he could endure for long. Thankfully, in recent years, he was offered the opportunity to be with his friends and their extended family. It was easy to just sort of sit off to the side and watch, enjoying being included without having to really be embroiled in everything. He was family but still a guest with no expectations placed upon him, though he did try to help when he could. It was a weird limbo to be in, but he was used to it.

Grimacing appropriately at her final statement, Brooks could empathize. At least her family didn't mind if she still came around. He was about to say as much when he realized that she may have given him the perfect segue. He balked a little, wondering if he ought to wait, but if he did he'd just catastrophize about it. Brooks didn't want to be to cheesy about this, but it was a day where they were both ruminating over their pasts, so why not have something to look forward to in the future?

He was going to screw this up.

As casually as he could muster (with it of course getting a little stuck), Brooks pulled out the little box containing the sapphire ring. "I feel like this is going to sound terribly unsuitable and probably a little tacky, but perhaps before next Christmas," he was trying not to ramble, but also not to cheapen the moment either. "We could start a new family tradition?" He popped open the box to reveal the ring and held his breath.

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At least she could trust him not to offer meaningless platitudes. She was grateful for it: Effie’s frustrations were not usually soothed by meant-well sympathy, and she only felt awkward about pity. But Brooks understood well enough – she could tell by that grimace – which meant more to her, anyway. All Effie needed was a little understanding.

But then he was fishing about in his pocket and she felt a flash of understanding, too, followed by a flash of no, don’t be ridiculous, Effie, and then – she had to swallow away the surge of nerves when it turned out she was right.

A new family tradition. No, it was not unsuitable at all: that was precisely what she did want. A life all her own; the freedom of choosing their own way, making their own decisions. Brooks’ delivery may not have been the most suave, there may have been no earth-shattering romance, but that was perfectly fine: Effie had not expected any of that. What she did have, what she did want, was to have found a kindred spirit in him, someone enough like her that they could share a life. She gazed at the sapphire gleam of the ring for a long lingering moment before looking up at him again, warmth in her cheeks. This was – apparently – really happening.

“Are you sure?” Effie asked before she could help herself, because although she could not fault him she was not completely certain of what good he had seen in her (she did not feel a natural fit for a wife, however much she wanted it) – but the moment she had voiced it, she berated herself for her less-than-encouraging answer. That was not what she had intended at all – she was terribly sure. So she pressed her hand to his forearm and smiled, all teeth. “I mean, yes, of course – yes, if you’re quite sure.”

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Balking a little at her question, he thankfully didn't have time to really respond as she seemed to think through it quickly. He exhaled finally at her agreement, smiling genuinely himself, though not quite as broadly. Twice he had done this and twice it had been a yes, but now he was hoping things would not go awry again. Effie and Morrigan could not be more different; Merlin he just hoped he wasn't putting himself out there again to be disappointed.

"I'm quite sure," he echoed, pulling the ring from the box itself and held it out to slide it on her finger. "I hope this is alright." He hadn't really been altogether sure what she would like, but he thought the small sapphire was modest enough, but still colorful. The constant second-guessing himself was going to drive him batty, but at least for now he could set those thoughts aside.

The weight had been lifted off his shoulders and he rolled them to loosen the rest of the tension. Standing, he crossed to the scarcely-used sidebar and pulled out the small bottle of chilled champagne. He poured two glasses and set the bottle on the table. "To next Christmas." He smiled again and raised his glass.

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He was quite sure. “It’s much more than alright,” Effie said, her gaze caught on the ring, because it was probably the most beautiful thing she owned. But she had no intention of seeming shallow – she would not have him change his mind on her now – so when he passed her a celebratory glass of champagne, Effie resolved to keep her focus entirely on him.

“To next Christmas,” she echoed. “And our future.” Because it would not just be those special occasions, but every evening, actually coming home to somebody – coming home to a house like this. (No, not like this: this house. She was allowed to deal in particulars and not hypotheticals now, she thought.)

She took a careful sip of the champagne, trying to work up to effusiveness. “I can’t imagine how difficult it – might have been for you, to go through all this again,” Effie said – feeling awkward, but meaning it sincerely, even feeling a little unusually sentimental. Because he had been let down before, so it must have taken him a great deal of courage to court again, to go through all the motions a second time, and she was absurdly grateful he had, and that he had chosen her to trust in. “But I’m really glad you asked me, Brooks.”

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Brooks exhaled in relief, pleased by her reaction to the ring. Doing it without input this time had been a little nerve-wracking, but he had to do things differently this time. Nothing about it could be the same or he knew he would choke somehow.

He tapped his glass gently against hers as he sat back down. He would have been content to simply think about the future, but the past had a way of clawing at the present and though he knew she meant it to be comforting, he stiffened a little. The last thing he wanted to do was think about Morrigan in detail.

"I'm a different person now," he managed. Worse. He was definitely worse, somehow. He'd been battered and broken and had managed to right himself only so much. Brooks felt guilty that this version of himself was what Effie was getting, but he hoped, from here on out, he could be better. There would be a concentrated effort. And that did mean focusing on the future instead of the past. "It's all different, a good different," he assured her with a small smile. Going into this with reservations probably made him more prepared, but he had to hope things would turn out differently. "This is the start of something good." Which he needed, desperately, something to go right in his life.

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God, she hoped he meant it. She hoped he had thought this through, and that he would be happy with her. Happy enough, Effie might have thought, but Brooks surely deserved better than enough – she sorely hoped she wouldn’t let him down in this. This. Just the rest of their lives.

Something bubbled up in her – nerves, or guilt – and she decided she couldn’t let things fester that way. If she was going to commit to this, to him and to the marriage she had always wanted, then she ought to be fully resolved about it, not allow herself to be ruled by reluctance.

Once he had sat back down beside her, Effie lowered her celebratory glass and leant over purposefully. There was a temptation to let the nerves get the best of her, and only kiss his cheek – but perhaps it was better to be bold, and get used to the role she would be playing if she went through with this. She ought to give him something more than words, shouldn’t she, if they were engaged? So she tilted her chin up and kissed him on the mouth, chaste enough – but determined, too.

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   Brooks Watson

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Even though he'd been watching her closely, trying to gauge her thoughts on all of this, Brooks had not expected her to lean in the way that she did. It caught up off guard, but he softened into it easily enough. This felt different too, as it should. They were nothing alike, Effie and Morrigan and he desperately needed it that way. Keeping them separate in his head shouldn't be difficult.

With his champagne still in one hand, he reached up his free hand to the side of her neck gently. He kept the kiss light, sweet, and short. Engaged or not, he had every intention of doing things the proper way this time. No sneaking around, no pushing boundaries. Everything would be by the book. Starting it off on the right foot was the only option for him. After a moment he leaned back, smiling genuinely at her. He was not a romantic by nature, being careful was work, but he was willing to try. Brooks could pay attention, be intentional, it just took a concentrated effort on his part. "If every Christmas is like this from here on out, I certainly won't complain." Something quieter, something with meaning, that was Brooks really wanted.

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