Jan. 1st, 2007

stbethadettes: (Beth Plural)
Just a glass of wine, she'd said, and he made sure she had a good one. It was something Martian and pricey and vaguely fruity that looked like liquid garnets in a glass, and it tasted every damn bit as nice as it looked.

Junior didn't take at all easily to the idea of sleep, not even after Beth's story about Agnes Snoth, but they had the wine and that book of fairy tales with commentary that Snow had given them. The wine wasn't for the baby, but the lull of words accompanied by the rock of the chair in the nursery eventually persuaded her that sleep was the way to go.

By that time, their first kiss of the new year was half an hour after the traditional time. At that point, sleep wasn't for them.

Beth didn't mind.

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stbethadettes

January 2009

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