This is just a bit of fluff set before they have kids at the end of the movie, okay: D One shot fluff

Just a Bit of Fluff Lizzie and Peter pulled up at his parent's house at around five o'clock. The sun was setting in the sky and bathed the walls of the huge structure in a warm, orange glow. Lizzie turned slightly in her seat and leant back onto Peter's shoulder to get a better look at the reasonably large building.

"Wow, you Brits really know how to build them…" she said looking at him upside down by bending her head backwards.

"What?" Peter said with a small laugh, "your house is smaller than my mum's?" he finished teasingly.

She stuck out her tongue at him. Then she began to speak in that phoney British accent that she used that night on the tennis court in Brighton.

"No my love, I was in fact referring to the tree house in the garden," she pointed a finger towards the mentioned structure.

Peter was about to reply with a rather witty comment but his brother, who had just exited through the small side door of the house, shouted and interrupted their bickering… Unfortunate…

"Hey Peter!" he shouted, almost falling over in his desperate sprint over the gravel driveway. He reached the car and slammed into the side, panting heavily. Apparently all that cycling was just for show.

Peter looked at him with one eyebrow raised. "Carl?"

Carl didn't look at Peter but kept his eyes on Lizzie.

He flicked his hair and dropped his right hip, the picture was somewhat ruined by the large bit of Bolognese sauce on his chin. Peter, who had unfortunately known this man all his life, knew what was coming.

"Bugger off, Carl. She's taken," he defended good-naturedly getting out of the car and closing the door. Lizzie followed suit and got out of the car, after, of course, Carl had gotten out of the way.

"Yeah I know, I'm just keeping my charm nice and aired," he tried following Peter who began making his way towards the house. Lizzie was beside him soon and holding his hand out of habit… and love.

"Yes, well, maybe you should try airing a facecloth for that bit of sauce on your chin," Peter shot back, not looking at his brother. Carl quickly dropped away from the pair, obviously trying to wipe the offending sauce off his face with some form of clothing. Neither wanted to see which.

Before the couple could reach the house, Peter's mother was already running towards them. The smile that was spread across her face looked like it had been painted there since earlier on that day… you know, since her son won Wimbledon and all.

"There's my two star tennis players now!" she said, more like flitting towards them with her arms outstretched. She hugged both of them in turn- Peter first because he was blood and then Lizzie but with the same enthusiasm.

Lizzie and Augusta hadn't even been introduced, but Augusta was too ecstatic for that yet. But after the hugging, she calmed and with a sigh looked almost lovingly at Lizzie.

"Now Peter, you will be so kind to introduce me to this young lady…" Augusta said, fingering the tea towel she held in her hand. Carl walked by and grabbed it off her wiping his face and then disappearing back into the house. Of course Augusta already knew who Lizzie was but she was one for the old ways where everyone was introduced to everyone.

"Well, Mum, this is Lizzie Bradbury, Lizzie this is my mum, Augusta Colt…" he said being mockingly formal. Augusta playfully slapped him on the arm before politely shaking Lizzie's hand.

"A pleasure, Lizzie."

"Nice to meet you Mrs. Colt-"

"Oh please, call me Augusta!"

After all the introductions were made, everyone went into the house and made their way into the large traditional kitchen.

"I really appreciate you two coming here for dinner, I know that you would prefer to be out partying now," Augusta said.

"Oh, on the contrary, it's nice to get away from everything…" Lizzie said, sitting down beside Peter on the sofa that sat in the corner of the kitchen.

"Yeah, the bloody press are going mad. They're like flies at feeding time," Peter explained, putting his arm around Lizzie's shoulders.

And so, dinner was had, wine was drunk and late that night, Lizzie and Peter went home… to his flat in Brighton.

The pair entered his flat and Peter turned to the door, locking it securely behind him. He was about to turn but felt two arms wrapping around his neck. He smiled as she pulled off his jacket and threw it off to the side out of the way.

He turned and placed his hands gently on her hips. She took a step closer to him and closed her arms tighter around his neck. She stretched up, almost onto her toes and kissed him tenderly, love, passion, pride and adoration all flowed through her lips and he knew that he was the happiest man in the world.

Thinking back to earlier that morning. He had nothing and now he had everything. The change was welcomed though. Standing on the court… Centre court, the stands full of British and American people, rooting for their favourite player, for their fellow countryman. He could feel the pressure bearing down on him with each point lost, each serve given, and each tennis ball hit. And Lizzie was angry with him. That was what stung most of all. He desperately hoped that she had seen, or even heard the interview that he had been in before the match. It was slightly embarrassing but it needed to be said and he would have done it a thousand times to get her back…

But his mind went blank after that. Lets suffice to say that Peter was slightly preoccupied with… something… someone else.

Lizzie awoke the next morning in a haze of euphoric happiness. The sun was shining through a gap in the linen curtains that hung over the window. Luckily it fell far away enough from the bed that she didn't feel the need to rise and close them. She was happy exactly where she was.

She sighed, knowing that she would never get back to sleep now. Once she was awake she was awake and that was it. She slowly, groggily propped herself up on one elbow and blinked a few times to clear her blurry vision. She looked to her left and saw Peter still asleep, looking totally content.

She wanted this moment to last forever, but she knew that there would be many more happy moments to come. So, she didn't want to the moment to end, but she couldn't wait to spend more time with Peter… More time with Peter that is while he was conscious.

She leaned over him, much like she had done a few days before and gently stroked his mussed, strawberry blonde hair. He stirred slightly but his eyes did not open. This time, she did not have to get up to phone her Dad… This time she did not need to get up to train. This time, she was exactly where she was supposed to be…

She shimmied closer to him and lay down closer beside him. Resting her head on his chest she sighed and closed her eyes. She gently rubbed the tips of her fingers over his ribs in an absent-minded way.

Then, she felt a hand softly stroking her hair. She smiled again, and took another deep breath in before turning her head to look at him.

Peter's eyes were only half open and he looked down one her with a small smile on his face.

"Good morning Mr Wimbledon Champ," she whispered, slowly sitting up. She smiled and moved his hand to hers. She resumed her previous position of sitting propped up on her elbow and looking down at him.

He blinked a few times and then sat up mirroring her position exactly.

"What?" he said a mock look of confusion on his face.

She shrugged playfully and looked away from him.

"No… what?"

She still just looked away from him, giggling inanely to herself.

"Nothing… Nothing at all…" she teased, still looking around the room, everywhere but him.

He soon wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her, screaming and laughing to the bed…

They never actually found out what it was. But one thing was for sure… They were going to have a hell of a lot of fun in the next… oh I don't know, lifetime?

Please review and please somebody else write a Wimbledon Fanfiction. I feel lonely in here by myself… sniff