Cold All the Way Through, But Warming

A White Feather

Will brought up the letters again the next day, but Ana had begged him to go shopping instead. Sylvie's clothing hung on her all wrong, and the skirts showed far more of her calves than she was comfortable with. Will didn't mind, and told her so, but that didn't change things. She begged him to take her to a ready-made store in Southampton, and he couldn't resist.

So he'd taken her, standing by her when eyes were cast at her short skirt and too large shirtwaist. Fortunately, Ana knew her measurements by heart, and knew what she liked. She piled up sensible shirtwaists, practical skirts and plain shoes. She was glad to find corsets, even if they were marked up due to the steel needing to go to the factories for weapons. Will placed a few brassieres with their order, unwilling to condemn her to those uncomfortable garments for the entire war.

He watched her put everything away back at the house, shifting a good portion of his own clothing to allow her to settle her new things. He brought up the letters as she folded up a nightgown that didn't even have a hint of lace to it. "Ana, shouldn't you get writing? I mean, you must have quite a few to do."

"No," She had a smile on her face now that she had changed into clothes that actually fit her. "I'll write them later." Ana turned to the bed, settling onto it and reaching for his hand. "I want to show you how much I appreciate you taking me out."

Will groaned as he watched her eyes flick to his fly, her tongue peeping out to wet her lips. Ana had been in an amorous mood the night before, hauling him down in a tangle of limbs and sheets when they had retired. He liked when she took control, when she acted like she would die if he didn't take her, and she'd been that way when they had both woken in the middle of the night. Even when she was bent over for him, her body shuddering every time he drove home, it seemed like she was the one who had egged him on.

But this morning, when they had lain on their sides and he had let her move against him, he had felt drained. He loved her, he loved taking her and having her want him, but as Ana reached for his fly buttons, he caught her hand. "Ana, you don't have to."

"I want to though." She batted her eyes, "I know you want it."

He chuckled, "All I want to do is hold you, may I?"

She pouted as she laid down, letting himself curl around her. "Do you not want me?"

"Christ, of course I do Ana. But I'm tired, and I want to take you out tomorrow." He grumbled against her back, nuzzling her neck. He slipped a hand over her side, cupping her breast. "You bought so many clothes today."

She shifted against him, clearly trying to arouse him. "I can still wear trousers, if you like."

"Don't tempt me." He grumbled into the pillow. "You know I do." He pressed his nose to her hair, breathing in her scent. Although it was more his own scent, given that she had washed her hair with his shampoo. "But you bought such plain things."

"I thought it was appropriate, what with the war."

"It is, but I want you to be inappropriate." He shifted to lean over her slightly. "I want to take you to London tomorrow, and I want you to buy as many frivolous things as you can. Pretty dresses, face creams, rouge, powder, everything."

She smiled slightly, but it fell. "Will, I couldn't do that. Not with the war, it would be foolish."

"And you're my little fool." He pressed a kiss to her nose, "And I want my fool to be her pretty self."

"You don't think I'm pretty?"

"I think you're absolutely beautiful, and I want you to think of yourself that way." Will grinned, "Don't tell me you'd wear that to a ball?"