So Blake and Jean get married, it's their wedding reception and they do the whole traveling/away outfit thing and leave while the reception is still going on. They return to the empty house to pack a last few things before they leave for the honeymoon and...
“Jean, love, what is this?” Lucien stood at the foot of the bed, a familiar terry pink bathrobe dangling from his fingers.
They had been officially married for three hours and so far, each hour was shaping up to be happier than the last. All that was left to do was to pack up the last few bits and bobs, load up the car, and head for the docks and from there on to the world.
But Lucien couldn’t abide by this monstrosity accompanying them.
Jean put down their bags by the bedroom door and looked over at him, rolling her eyes and crossing the room to snatch the robe from him. “I’ll have you know that robe is incredibly comfortable. I love this robe.”
Lucien grimaced, “I know.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” she asked, hands on her hips, glaring.
He sighed, once again plucking the robe from her hands and throwing it on the bed before turning to her, placing his hands on her shoulders. “Jean, you’ve lived with me for almost two years now. Do you know how many evenings I’ve wanted to pry that bloody robe off of you? Every time I just wanted to get my hands on you.” His hands wandered under the straps of her dress, fingers brushing the swell of her breast. “Or under your clothes.” Jean sighed and arched her back slightly, pressing into his touch.
Lucien stopped teasing her and removed his fingers from her breast, slipping his arms around her waist, ducking low and peppering teasing kisses down her neck. He murmured against her skin, “But that bloody robe was always there, hiding you from me. So,” he pressed a kiss to her lips, sighing at the feel of her, and then pulled away.
“Our first decision as a married couple: No. Pink. Robe.”
Jean laughed, his ire at such an inoffensive object amusing her. She nodded, “Fine then, no pink robe. But I’m going to steal yours then. I get cold.”
Lucien scooped her up in his arms, holding her tight, swaying them from side to side. “I’ll keep you plenty warm, Mrs. Blake.”
Jean struggled out of his arms, rolling her eyes at him. “Hold that thought, Dr. Blake. We’re late already and you have an entire world to show me, don’t think I’ve forgotten.” Lucien watched her sashay out of the bedroom, their bags in hand. He was all too happy to leave the offending pink robe on the bed behind him, forgotten. It had no place on their honeymoon.
And if he was very lucky, there would be something pink and lacy in one of those bags for him to enjoy.