She smiled up at him cheekily. "I always believe in your capabilities," she said affectionately. "I never doubt that you can. I just wonder if you should."
"Well, normally when I ask myself if I should, I usually say yes. It's led to a lot of good things, you know," he replied smartly. "Like confessing my feelings to you was a good choice, right?"
"The best choice," she reassured him. "But I feel that sometimes you skip the 'asking yourself' part and go straight to the action." She raised an eyebrow. "That night in the observatory?"
"Ah. Yes. I was definitely not asking myself anything on that night, which was probably a mistake." He nodded slowly, recalling it.
"Probably," she agreed, resting her head on his shoulder. "That was awful." She paused for a moment before glancing up at him. "I remember that I had realized that I liked you at that point, and I was pretty concerned."
"I'm not surprised. Nobody wants to realize they like someone and then watch them fight someone else. That was the only time I've seen you cry, and I hope it remains the only time," he said, his tone a bit apologetic.
(JUST YOU WAIT.) "Not a big deal," she said, nuzzling her nose into his neck sleepily. "It's over now."
(I knoooow!! Even Francis might cry.) He sighed, feeling content. "Yeah, it is. I try to forget about it, sometimes."
(It makes my heart hurt just to think about it. I'm so excited.) "Mm," she murmured from his shoulder. "I think that's all you can do." She seemed to either doze off slightly or be very deep in thought as the rest of the family finished up their food, with loud chatter and previous experiences being discussed. George and Emma seemed to be the engines of the reunion, keeping people laughing with their experiences from their prospective schools; Emma, a freshman in high school and George, a sophomore in college.
Francis didn't say much, only listened politely. He had never been great with talking at family reunions or gatherings, especially if it wasn't his.
Finally, the various family members began to clean up, and Poppy moved to help. She balanced a couple of plates on her hands and turned to Francis. "Coming in?" she asked, nodding towards the house. "You may see some pictures."
"Well I can't pass up that opportunity," he said with a grin. He stood up, taking some plates to help out.
He followed, glancing up at the house cautiously, like he wasn't sure if he was allowed. He continued, though, not making it obvious how he felt.
The inside of the house was pleasant, with rooms painted yellow, green, or blue. Plants were on every available surface, and books filled the other nooks and crannies. Pictures decorated the walls, each with various members of the family at different ages, and many containing a woman with blonde hair and startling grey eyes, almost always laughing deeply. One photo showed a young Poppy, with frizzy hair and skinned knees, kissing the cheek of the woman, her arms wrapped around her neck in an embrace.
Francis observed the photos thoughtfully, naturally assuming the woman with blonde hair was her mother. The interior of the house made him feel strangely comfortable, and he continued to follow Poppy, surveying as he went.
The kitchen was a bustle of activity, with Kellen at the sink washing the dishes, Emma and George drying, Lewis putting the dishes away, and Bee running through the legs of everyone. Poppy placed the dishes in the sink and took a drying towel from the side, joining the assembly line. Bee patted Francis leg as she ran by, laughing deeply. "You're it."
Francis looked down at her, taking two long strides before swooping down and picking her up. "Gotchya!"
She squealed with delight, squirming to get out of his grip. She patted his face excitedly. "Got you, got you!" she sang.
