candlewax & polaroids on the hardwood floor
Flora gasps, scandalized in the most exaggerated way possible, and smacks him—hard enough to splash water across both their chests—at his sashimi comment. "EWWWUH," she huffs, even as her legs twine more securely around his waist, clearly not at all as scandalized as she was pretending to be.
And then he jolts. Flora snorts against the damp slope of his shoulder, her legs tightening instinctively to keep from slipping off as he flails into motion. "Kaisel, for fuck's sake," she chokes out through helpless laughter, arms clutching tighter around his chest as his panic very nearly drags them both under. "It was seaweed! Gods, you absolute disaster—"
The words fall apart into giggles that bubble up, bright and breathless, as she props her chin on his shoulder. She’s still laughing when she draws a languid swirl across his collarbone with one finger, purely because she can, because it feels safe and easy and stupidly wonderful to touch someone without it getting complicated.
"You’re lucky you’re cute," Flora sighs dramatically against his ear, as if forgiving him is an enormous burden. "Otherwise I’d be letting the sharks fight over who got your left leg." Her grin sharpens, quick and wicked, before she presses a splashy, exaggerated kiss to the back of his salty, sun-warmed shoulder—platonic in the way that could be playful, could be dangerous, but would never actually be dangerous because they were, somehow, still just them. Just Flora and Kaisel. Always a little too much and not enough.
"Now pull yourself together, Shark Slayer," she teases, squeezing her legs lightly around his ribs before relaxing again, content to drift with him toward shore on the lazy pull of the tide. "We still have pancakes to get."
And then he jolts. Flora snorts against the damp slope of his shoulder, her legs tightening instinctively to keep from slipping off as he flails into motion. "Kaisel, for fuck's sake," she chokes out through helpless laughter, arms clutching tighter around his chest as his panic very nearly drags them both under. "It was seaweed! Gods, you absolute disaster—"
The words fall apart into giggles that bubble up, bright and breathless, as she props her chin on his shoulder. She’s still laughing when she draws a languid swirl across his collarbone with one finger, purely because she can, because it feels safe and easy and stupidly wonderful to touch someone without it getting complicated.
"You’re lucky you’re cute," Flora sighs dramatically against his ear, as if forgiving him is an enormous burden. "Otherwise I’d be letting the sharks fight over who got your left leg." Her grin sharpens, quick and wicked, before she presses a splashy, exaggerated kiss to the back of his salty, sun-warmed shoulder—platonic in the way that could be playful, could be dangerous, but would never actually be dangerous because they were, somehow, still just them. Just Flora and Kaisel. Always a little too much and not enough.
"Now pull yourself together, Shark Slayer," she teases, squeezing her legs lightly around his ribs before relaxing again, content to drift with him toward shore on the lazy pull of the tide. "We still have pancakes to get."
