A/N: This story takes place within the "When All Is Lost" series. It's a collaborative, mostly canon-compliant project that follows Agnarr and Iduna throughout their lives. The stories are not written in sequence and are not listed chronologically on FFN. My collaborator is not on FFN, therefore her stories are not here. Apparently, I am unable to link them. There are two places to find the series in its current entirety (it is ongoing) and in chronological order. You can find it on Archive of Our Own. My collaborator's user name is Fericita and mine is TheSpasticFantastic. . You can also find it on Tumblr. My collaborator is fericita-s and my username is the-spastic-fantastic.

"I don't believe you," Iduna laughed. Agnarr grinned and watched as she sank onto their bed, already in her night clothes. Iduna laughing was one of his greatest joys and he delighted in his ability to make her laugh, even if she was laughing at him half the time. Any time his wife graced him with one of her sunny smiles, he felt at peace with the world no matter how difficult the day.

"No, it's true. Henrik told me that it's all the latest craze in London."

"Then I don't believe Henrik," she leaned back into the pillows, stretching her arms over her head. "It doesn't even sound English. It sounds French. 'Burlesque'."

"So it crossed the Channel," Agnarr shrugged and raised an eyebrow. "Here, Henrik even showed me how they dance. Bah-da Dah-Dah," he tried to keep the laughter from his voice as he sang and undid the sash at his waist, moving his hips back and forth. Iduna shrieked and doubled-over, tears starting to appear, as he managed to toss it onto a chair and started fumbling with the buttons of his dress coat.

"S-st-stop it!" She managed to choke through her guffaws, but Agnarr – vocalized musical accompaniment abandoned and medals clinking – managed to get his jacket off before collapsing to the floor, laughing too hard to go on. It took them several minutes to regain any semblance of control or composure.

"Leave it to Henrik," Iduna finally giggled, face red from the hilarity.

"Leave it to Henrik," Agnarr agreed and pulled himself up, still chuckling.

"And people really like watching that?"

"I'd like watching you do that," Agnarr grinned as he rubbed the back of his neck. "I'd like watching you do anything." He climbed into the bed on hands and knees, drawing close enough for her to grip his suspenders.

"Well," she murmured with hooded eyes as she pulled him down to her. "I suppose I understand the appeal."

Later, after he'd been undressed in a far more efficient and perfunctory manner and his favorite part of the night had been completed to both of their satisfaction, he gazed up at the ceiling, his wife warmly nestled against his side as he stroked her cheek with his thumb.

"You know," he kissed her temple. "For all you say didn't believe me, you seemed to enjoy that. Should I work on my routine?"

She laughed and drummed her fingers on his chest. "You're kind to offer, but I don't need all of that. You can just take your shirt off without fanfare and I'm happy. I'm from a simple people. Simple woman. Simple pleasures."

"Loving her simple-minded man?"

She laughed again and he felt warm all over.

"Exactly."