A/N: It's 23.15 and I have a 5 pages essay due tomorrow that I haven't started yet, but I disneybounded (is that a word? I made it a word) Mary Poppins for Halloween, so instead I am doing this…
If you get the reference I will love you forever, because it is another one of my favorite musicals.
- Jillian xx
My Darling Bert,
I hope all has been well with you. By the time you receive this, I should be nearing done with my latest assignment. I have been stationed in Budapest for the past few months and it is truly delightful here.
I am coming home.
I have included a photograph of a lovely café which I would love to go to with you. Hold onto it until my return.
Bert looks down to the letter in his hand. He's read it over several time already that he must have it memorized, but he loves to admire his dearest friend's handwriting.
I am coming home.
He repeats this phrase in his head. London was always Mary Poppins's home; it is where she was born and it is where she grew up. But he liked to believe she still considered it home because, with the endless travelling she does, it features one thing that will never change, no matter how long she is gone: him.
He will always wait for her arrival, for her days off of afternoon tea and catching up, and of course the magic that comes with her.
Not her powers, though Bert loves those as well, but the air she carries with her. Just having her near him brings about a magic all its own. It sends chills down Bert's spine to even think of such moments. He truly adores her.
"And who wouldn't? After all, she is practically perfect." Bert reasons with himself.
No, it's different. He knows her like no one else does. And she is entirely perfect in his eyes, flaws included.
The trees rustle a bit more than usual as the wind picks up. The east wind, Bert notes.
"Welcome home, Mary Poppins."
"Thank you, Bert."
Bert whips around to find the woman behind the letter.
"Cor, what a sight!" Bert exclaims, taking a step closer to his friend. "How'd'ya do, Mary?"
The woman smiles in return. "Now don't just stand there like a stranger, I've been out of London for far too long to settle with that as my greeting."
With a broad smile, Bert pulls Mary in a caring embrace. The gesture is brief, but affectionate all the same.
"Now," Bert begins, pulling the picture from his pocket. The letter is in there with it, but Bert would be mortified should Mary learn that.
"I believe you promised me dinner?" he finishes with a cheeky grin.
Mary looks around to assure no one is around them, then she takes one of Bert's hands in hers. "Of course."
In a twink, the pair stand in the streets of Budapest; Mary suppresses a small laugh as she watches Bert gape at their surroundings.
"You don't travel much, do you?" Mary knows the answer, but allows him to entertain himself with answering it anyway.
"'Course I do, Mary." Bert replies resolutely. "I get all over the city. I could go where ever I like, but I choose to stay in London."
"Because that's where I know I'll be able to find you." He finishes in his mind.
Arm in arm, the friends walk into the restaurant in front of them, The Café Imperiale.
They take their seats as friends, presumable making them the only platonic pair in the restaurant. Bert can't shake the feeling of a different air around Mary as they enter. Almost some kind of-
"No," Bert mentally berates himself for even thinking the idea. "You're just messin' with your mind, Bert. It's your own feelings that're blurrin' the mood for ya. Don't overthink, enjoy the night."
Bert is so wrapped up in thought, he doesn't hear Mary's concern for him. Until she repeats herself, that is.
"Bert, are you all right? You seem distracted by something."
"It's nothin'." Bert brushes off the question. Mary drops it, though she isn't entirely believing of him.
Mary reaches across the take to take Bert's hand. The mood of the setting mixed with the loving contact, Bert can't keep himself from blushing just a bit. It goes unnoticed to anyone besides Bert in the dim lighting, but he knows it's there.
Bert offers his signature grin to Mary. "Just 'appy to 'ave you home, love."
He tells himself it is just his imagination, but he can't helping thinking Mary is radiating with something special, something delightfully different, tonight.
It's probably just his imagination, but he still refuses to deny to himself he feels some kind of romantic atmosphere.