bakerstreet | ( THE MINOR INJURY MEME )

Really, the most humiliating part of the whole thing was getting carried into the Atwater's house by the servants instead of limping in and dulling the pain with a good brown ale as he would have done at Winterfell. But no, he wasn't at the Stark family estate, he was visiting the home of the young woman whose father had, to Jon and Amelia's great satisfaction, struck a deal with Jon's father Lord Eddard for a marriage between their children. The only caveat, however, had been that outside circumstances had sadly forced a delay to the ceremony itself. In the meantime, Jon had been welcomed that morning as a guest for the day, with Amelia scheduled to visit Winterfell the next week.

An afternoon's ride with the men of the Atwater family had turned unfortunate when one of Jon's less experienced soon-to-be in-laws lost control of his horse and sent Jon toppling down a small hill. The doctor had come and gone, and now Jon was sitting up in a very familiar bedroom with one leg immobilized for a badly sprained ankle.

His mood following dinner was far less than pleasant when he heard a knock at the door, but lightened considerably when the visitor turned out to be Amelia, curiously un-chaperoned.

It really hadn't taken much coercion on Amelia's part to get her father to agree to the marriage. While she hadn't been entirely truthful about the matter - he doesn't need to know that the two know each other intimately - she had been completely honest when she'd said that she didn't wish to fight anymore, and that she cared about Jon in a way that she hadn't cared for any of her other potential suitors, and that she was ready to be a wife.

Her father, for the first time, had listened to his headstrong daughter, and approved the match and ... soon, she hopes, she will be married. In the meantime, she was happy with visits, and more chances to sneak away to get to know each other better.

This day, though, they haven't had the opportunity, not when she had a dress fitting with her older sisters, and her cousins and uncles have decided to take Jon out to show him the lands that he would someday perhaps inherit. While he was falling down a hill, she was fielding questions about the smile that would not leave her face.

When word had come, though, that he'd been injured, that smile did fade, and her mood quickly darkens, and she changes out of her future wedding dress, taking an all-too familiar path to his rooms.

"You could have been killed. Just wait until I get my hands on that imbecile ... "

"Amelia, no," he sighed, reaching out for her hands to clasp and making shushing noises to calm her down. "No. I'm all right. It's my own stupid fault, really. I knew your cousin was no horseman when we started the ride, and I should have stayed well clear of him." Jon pulled her hands closer and kissed them.

"Honestly, it's not that bad. I'll be standing on it by tomorrow, I'm told."

Jon glances over at the door she'd entered through. It was late evening. Not quite as late as when she'd made her first clandestine visit to his bedroom, but definitely closer to the house being asleep than awake with activity.

"Although I've no doubt a kiss would hurry my recovery quite a bit."

She doesn't hesitate to shut the doors behind her, although she isn't paying attention enough to make sure that they're locked. It doesn't matter. All that matters is getting close enough to Jon to make sure that he's truly alright. And he reaches out for her, and she is there, holding on tightly, calming some, but still seething on the inside that this has even happened to begin with.

"Idiots, the lot of them."

Soon enough, though, her heart finds a more regular pattern, and she even slips her shoes off in order to take a more comfortable spot on the bed, not quite lying down just yet, but sitting close, as much in an effort to offer comfort as it is to glean comfort from him.

"All you ever have to do is ask," she replies, leaning down the rest of the way to press her lips sweetly against his.

"They're men, celebrating." Jon's face split into a broad, mischievous grin. "So yes, they're idiots. We all are."

His hands are decidedly not injured, so when Amelia kisses him with sweetness, Jon reaches up to hold her closer and answers with passion. It's been too long since he's tasted her, even though it really hasn't been. Jon's just learned to crave her desperately and all the time.

"I hear you got to try on your wedding dress today," he said with a gleam in his eye.

"There are worse ways to celebrate," Amelia concedes, offering just the smallest of smiles. "But I hardly think that you are an idiot. I would not marry an idiot."

As upset as she was, she wasn't above returning the kiss with as much enthusiasm as he shows her. Oh, she wants Jon. All the time, all she wants is Jon. He's here now, and although he's not quite in the shape that she would want him in, he's here.

"I did," she replies, ducking her head to hide her pink cheeks. "I hope you get to see it soon."

Jon laughs, mostly because he sees the start of a smile and wants to make it bigger, shine brighter. "Well, if I am, perhaps it's best that you're finding out now?" He shakes his head, though, thinking it might not quite be the kind of jest Amelia is in the mood to make.

"Like I said, I'm just fine."

His finger strokes those colored cheeks and Jon decides he likes the look of them. "I hope I do, too. The last I heard, the chapel won't be ready for at least another two or three weeks."

He has a much easier time seeing her biggest, happiest and most genuine smiles than just about anyone else involved in her life, even those who have been around since she was a baby. "Hardly. Now would be the worst time to find it out for myself, as I am already promised to you. If it is the truth, then I hope that I never find it out."

Well. If he insists, then she mustn't continue worrying ... or plotting her cousin's unfortunate demise. Maybe that is a joke, and maybe it's not. Good thing no one would be finding out one way or the other.

Although her smile falters at the news, she still hums happily, leaning further into the touch. "More delays! Always delays. I don't know how long I can wait."

His hand moves down to cup Amelia's chin. "I know, sweetheart, I know." Jon's been wondering if by now he should have a kind of pet name for her. That one sounds all right, but it's not perfect. "But the time will come soon enough. Everything's been arranged, but the families insist we can't get wed in a chapel with no roof on it."

Smiling, Jon shrugs. He wouldn't mind it. He wouldn't mind a completely outdoor wedding. Hell, he wouldn't mind it being him, Amelia, the holy man and the Gods and no one else. But that wasn't the bargain that was struck and the most important thing was that when it was over, it would be the two of them together.

"We can always go back to practicing."

Sweetheart. She likes sweetheart. Of course, they would have plenty of time to find something that fit better, but for now, that would do. She raises her hand to rest on top of his and nods - this isn't anything that she hasn't heard before. As impatient as she was for the wedding to be done and over with, she could wait, secure in the knowledge that Jon is just as eager.

Amelia wouldn't much mind such a simple, quick ceremony either, but her father would never stand for such a thing. The Atwater name still commands attention, and as such, the wedding must be something to talk about - and not the haste of the outdoor ceremony with no guests.

Tongues would wag.

Well. Not like they weren't already wagging.

She flushes all the darker, nodding along in agreement. That wasn't the worst idea ... and she would be a liar if she tried to say that the thought hadn't crossed her mind.

"Practicing vows, or practicing what happens after the ceremony?"

His smile broadens just as soon as he can feel Amelia's mood lifting away from thoughts of his injury and of possibly murdering anyone in her family out of retaliation. If he could, he would spend the rest of his days making her smile and if the Gods would just cooperate a little bit, they would be married soon and he would have his opportunity to try.

It's an absolute wonder how far he has come in how deeply Amelia Atwater has taken root inside of his heart. Jon had always known that he was destined to a strategically sound marriage to an eligible woman. For it to be so wonderful in all other respects is a gift he refuses to overlook.

Jon shrugs. "As I am the invalid here and as I'm guessing you came here to look after me and not just make death threats against your relations, I'll give you the choice."

And how can she possibly stay upset once she catches sight of that smile? Although she's still adamant that she'll have a stern talking-to with her wayward cousin, the urge to throttle him silly is slowly dying down. Much like Jon, Amelia wants nothing more than to be able to start their lives together, alone, out from under the thumb of her father. There, she thinks, it'll be so much easier to smile, and to be happy, and to feel free, for the first time in her life.

She still wonders just how and why she's fallen head over heels as desperately as she has. Long ago, she'd come to terms with being alone. And then, out of all the potential suitors that were tossed her way, came Jon Snow. And out of all of the potential suitors that were tossed her way, he was the only one who caught her attention. She thinks, also, that he might be the only one that could ever make her feel the things that she feels.

"Oh, don't! You know that I am not at all able to resist the temptation of crawling into bed with you."

"The for the Gods' sake, sweetheart, put us both out of our misery. Make sure the door's locked and stop resisting."

Jon's expression widens even further into a grin, something he's never been known for. It's not as though his life has been completely devoid of merriment, but it hasn't been that easy and besides, he did inherit the Stark's kind of long-faced, dour reserve. To find it this easy to smile is a very new experience for him.

He pats the open space of the bed beside him and waits for Amelia to fill it. Amelia, his betrothed-- soon to be Amelia, his wife. His anticipation has been palpable in these last few weeks, remarked on by everyone in his family, and when he's actually in her presence, Jon can understand why.

What a bad influence!

Of course, though, Amelia doesn't hesitate, her smile growing into something far more devious than it had appeared a moment before. Like a flash - at least as fast as her heavy skirts will allow, she's up and to the door, double and triple checking to make sure it's locked up tight. Not that she thought that anyone might enter and catch them together, but one never could be too careful.

It's another thing they have in common - the tendency to spare their smiles for those who truly deserve them, rather than offering them often. But with Jon, it's almost second nature to forget all about her otherwise serious demeanor so that she can ... let loose. In more ways than one.

She returns as quickly as she'd gone, curling up close to his side rather than stretching out. Really, there are few places that she'd rather be. It's noticeable, too, in the change in her attitude, that there was a reason that she wants to marry Jon rather than continuing to deny marriage, and pushing everyone away.

"Hello, handsome."

Jon laughs-- not too loudly, of course-- when Amelia bursts into action, bustling about the room to make sure that they won't be disturbed. It's so devilishly easy to forget that he inherited the Starks' signature dour reserve when he's around her, that being one of the many reasons he so looks forward to being her husband.

He reaches up and brushes Amelia's cheek with his fingertips when she returns beside him. "Hello, beautiful. I have a mad idea. Why don't we get married?"

Jon's other hand busies itself finding her waist and guiding her to him for a kiss.

As if she was going to move slowly!

All she wants is to be as close to Jon as possible - well, she wants to be married more than anything, but as that didn't seem to be happening anytime soon, being close was the next best thing. All she wants is more kissing and more exploration and more of being with the man that held her heart.

She huffs out a laugh, leaning all the further into his touch. "Are you suggesting that we run away together in order to do so? Because you know how bad I am with temptations ... "

It doesn't take much for Amelia to get the hint, and not for the first time tonight, she bends so that they can share a kiss. Or two. Or eight.

If it were possible for lips and mouths to fit one another, then Jon's certain that someone made his and Amelia's as a matched set, as though the most natural thing in the world for them to be engaged in is kissing. Perhaps that's why one or two or eight is never enough. His tongue slides against hers as the kisses deepen, and he shivers a little as the touch.

"Not that it hasn't crossed my mind, but our families would hunt us both down across the ends of the earth. And besides, I can't ride like this, now, can I?"

His fingers skim over Amelia's dress, searching until he finds laces he can tug at. Women's clothing is still a bit of a mystery to him. Perhaps once they're married, for convenience's sake, they'll draw all the curtains and simply walk around naked.

"In fact, I'm not sure how vigorous I can be," Jon teases, "you may just have to have your way with me."

Amelia would have to agree. Few things feel as right as when she and Jon find themselves a spare moment in which to sneak a few kisses. She always leaves him feeling light-headed, and weak-kneed, and if that wasn't the sign that this was meant to be, then she doesn't know what would be.

"They would, and I'd rather not risk that," she laughs, shaking her head. "I would feel all the more awful and all the more responsible if you attempted it and wounded yourself worse. And so, as impatient as I am, I can wait."

If she'd thought about it, in her haste to get here, she would have stopped by her rooms and changed into something a little easier to remove. As it is, though, it's not one of her most ornate gowns, so she doesn't mind Jon using a little roughness until he's able to figure out how to remove it. He could rip it, as far as she was concerned, it wasn't as though she didn't own more.

... Naked. Perhaps they could talk about that ...

"Ah! You just like it when you get to lie back and make me do all the work. You can use your knees, no? Sit up on them, and allow me to put my legs over your shoulders?"

She should feel embarrassed for thinking such a thing, but she doesn't. She's got to use her imagination somehow, as he's not always around. Besides, there are few things better than being able to surprise him with ideas just like this.

He laughs right back at her. "Pssh. Like you don't enjoy getting to be in charge now and again, deciding how fast or slow or hard or soft..." But his future wife isn't wrong, though. It does make quite a pleasing change of pace for him as well when she does.

Jon's eyes go as wide as saucers when Amelia speaks, suggesting something that while it certainly wakes up every aspect of his attention and sets his imagination quickly warming, it's very much a surprise.

"I'm not exactly sure what to say to that suggestion," he says with just a touch of mock aghast in his voice, "other than, of course, how soon can we start?"

Not exactly wanting to wait and feeling the same kind of urgency from Amelia, Jon starts unbuttoning his own shirt.

Amelia can only keep up her mock offended expression for so long before she completely loses herself in a barrage of giggles. He's right, of course, and she'd be lying if she said that she didn't enjoy those moments that she urged him to lie back so that she could take control. "Well, yes, but that knowledge must stay only between us." Not that she thinks that he's going to tell anyone.

Oh, she loves that expression and the knowledge that such a simple statement could surprise him so. She'd assume that most men have already thought of the ways in which they could find themselves with a woman, and in which positions they can get them into. It's sort of sweet to know that her soon-to-be husband hasn't. All of this - they can discover together. That is a rare gift indeed.

"Right now," she answers, watching his fingers as they work his buttons open, wicked little gleam in her eyes, "I want to try it right now."

Jon puts a finger to his own lips, even though they're parted wide for a smile instead of being pursed and tight. "I swear your secret is safe with me." Along with all their other little secrets that won't matter a bit once they're married.

He tosses his shirt aside and the look in Amelia's eyes along with the slight lowering of the pitch of her voice when she speaks causes something inside of Jon to thrum in response. By now, he knows the sound of her desires, and it's very much like his own.

"Then there are simply too many articles of clothing on top of this bed and not nearly enough on the floor."

It's a funny thing, how these two normally serious and stoic people can forget all about those walls they've built up around themselves, and how easily it is to smile and to laugh, and to allow themselves to be completely, fully happy. It's a good thing, Amelia thinks, a good clue as to how the rest of their lives with each other are going to go. Nobody else needs to know what goes on between the two of them - this was private.

It's fair to say that they're still learning each other and what pleases the both of them, but she knows that look, and she knows that particular smile, and she knows that she's in only the best sorts of troubles.

"My dress is off! What more do you need?", she teases, slowly sliding the strap of her short chemise down one shoulder.

Jon nods in agreement. "You're right, I really don't need much else." And with that, he springs into action, doing his best to keep his injured foot from doing much of anything while he tackles Amelia as softly as such a thing can be done, sending her onto her back and onto the bed. Jon pushes her chemise up to her waist, exposing her to him in a way that makes his mouth water.

As he looks down on her, smiling a little hungrily, suggesting one of the wolves on his family crest, Jon undoes the front of his trousers and pushes them down just enough for his already very aroused manhood to spring free. It rests against her warm center for a moment, promising. "Now what was that suggestion?" he mused, running his hands over her legs, "put these up on my shoulders, was it?"

Amelia should be able to move quickly, as Jon is injured, after all, but she doesn't seem to do much at all other than allowing him to push her down into the soft, pillowy quilt covering his bed, laughing madly as she goes. She'd pull him down with her, only she knows that he's got other plans when it comes to the action they're taking part in tonight.

Besides, any opportunity that she has to allow her to watch him the way she is now is more than enough to keep her wanting more. When he takes her in like that, it takes all the willpower she has not to moan out loud, and he wasn't even touching her yet! But then he is, and she rocks against him, allowing him to feel just how ready she already was for him - as she always was whenever she thought about him, and she shivers at the feel of his hands, always surprised at the tenderness that he shows her. "Something like that, yes. Shall I?"

She moves, just stroking his length with the surface of her sex, and he can already feel the wetness there that Jon's learned to crave, so he groans and swells even more against her. He'd never imagined that a woman could do these things to him so easily, and he can't be happier that one can-- and more importantly, does.

"Absolutely," he answers, reaching down to help her. And as much as he does very much enjoy when Amelia assists him with being ready for her, there's no need this time. Once her legs are at his shoulders, what presses against her folds is as stiff as steel. Jon moves just a little, gingerly avoiding putting weight on his injured foot, and begins to slip inside of her.

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