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Wasn't it worth the risk? Pats couldn't stay angry forever, Delia thinks, pacing back and forth.
Yes, she'll be fine. It'll all be fine and 4 year old Delia will finally get her wish and it'll all be fine. Plus, Pats loves to clean so there'll be more of that for her to do. Yes, yes... It'll be fine.
Delia worries her lip and continues pacing, waiting for her beloved to get home from work.
She intertwines her fingers and goes to sit on the couch. The couch she was sitting on this morning as Patsy deposited a kiss and ran out of the door, a slice of toast and her work bag in hand, and a "have a good day. I love you" thrown over her shoulder.
Well, Delia did have a good day. A very good day.
And it'll continue to be fine.
Dr Mount will walk through the door, take off her coat, put down her bag and Delia will kiss her and she'll tell her the good news and it'll be fine.
Delia's head snaps towards the door as the lock goes and the door opens.
"Deels," Patsy calls out before spotting the brunette curled up on the sofa and biting her lip.
"Hi, Pats."
Patsy eyes Delia, eyes narrowing as she takes in the sheepish expression and nervous tics.
"Everything okay?"
"It's perfect. It's fine. Everything is fine."
"Are you sure?" Patsy says, walking over and giving Delia a kiss on the cheek.
Delia wraps a hand around Patsy’s cheek and kisses her, nibbling on her lower lip for a few seconds.
Patsy leans back, smile in place.
"My, what a greeting that was," Patsy says, falling into the seat next to Delia.
Delia rubs Patsy’s leg and rests her head on Patsy’s shoulder.
"How was your day, Cariad?"
"Busy, so busy," Patsy frowns as there's a rustling sound. "What was that?"
"What was what?"
"That."
Patsy looks to the door to the spare room, frowning.
"Ffyc," Delia mutters under her breath, not quietly enough if Patsy’s look is anything to go by.
"What's going on?"
"Pats, Annwyl, it's nothing to be concerned about."
Patsy stands, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes, staring at Delia who's stealthily trying to melt into the sofa.
"Deels, Darling, the last time you called me that you volunteered us - on one of our rare weekends off - to chaperone a bunch of teenagers on a camping trip. What is going on?" she says, foot tapping against the floor.
"Well, see... I was visiting Val at that little cafe on the corner. The cute one with plants and vintage bikes on the walls. Oh, the coffee is divine and you'd love the music. And-"
"Delia Busby, what is going on?"
"You remember we talked about getting a dog a few months ago?"
Patsy sighs, slouching on the sofa.
"Great, you've gone and got us a bloody dog. Deels, I thought we agreed we were too busy for that."
"Well, technically, we don't have a dog, perse."
"Perse? And what does that mean exactly?"
"I mean, we have a cat I called Dog," Delia says, looking down at her hand playing with a pillow. "A very cute, ginger cat that's adorable and needed a home. Pats, she was crying in an alleyway and so dirty."
"Great, you've got us a bloody dirty cat called Dog."
"I cleaned her up so she's not dirty."
"We should take her to an animal sanctuary or the RSPA or something."
"Pats, can't we keep her? We can get her trained and have a cat flap and you won't have to do anything."
"There will be fur everywhere. And what happens if Do-the cat pees everywhere, or god forbid something worse."
Delia pouts, reaching for Patsy’s face, stroking her cheek and forcing her to look at Delia.
"Please, Cariad. I'll make it up to you and I'll make sure nothing changes. Besides, I know you like to clean."
"Delia," Patsy says as a warning.
"Please, Cariad. She needs a home and we can give that to her. I'll look after herm"
"Deels."
"Pats," Delia says, leaning in and kissing Patsy. "Please?"
Patsy sighs.
"Fine but you're looking after it."
Delia makes a noise akin to a squeal and jumps off the sofa.
"Thank you, thank you, thank you."
"You're cleaning up after it."
"Of course. You'll love Dog, Pats, she's adorable. And ginger, too. I'll go get her."
"We need to change her name," Patsy says, tossing her head back and closing her eyes.
"Why?"
"Because the poor bugger will have an identity crisis if not."