I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings
Flora snorts laughter under her breath, the sound softer than the grin still tugging at her mouth as she looks up at Kai. It isn’t that he’s wrong, exactly. Maybe only she could decide that a tropical kitchen needed its own private Deepfrost, but the adoring look she gives him says plainly enough that he could have done the same thing if he’d had a tiny frost dragon at his beck and call.
When his hands cup her face, Flora tips easily toward him, her smile pressed into the first second of the kiss before it gives way to something warmer. One arm slides around his waist while the other curls over his shoulders, fingers slipping into the damp towel at the back of his neck as she kisses him back with bright, helpless affection. What he won't be able to see is the way her palm opens behind him.
Spice, still perched on the counter like she’s been waiting for her cue, chirrups once and drops a cold little mound of fresh snow into Flora’s waiting hand. Through the bond there is probably just enough mischief to warn him that something is happening, but not nearly enough time to do anything useful about it. Flora breaks the kiss with a laugh already rising in her throat and shoves the snow straight down the back of his shirt.
Her eyebrows lift as if the problem of the sled has only just now reclaimed her attention despite her continued giggles. Still holding onto him with one hand, she tilts her head and looks around the kitchen with a thoughtful little hum, her gaze moving from the chairs to the bright spill of sunlight beyond the open doors. "Welllllll," Flora says slowly, drawing the word out as her smile curves again, "we could cut the legs off a chair?"
She lets that sit for half a second, as if it is a perfectly normal suggestion made by a queen in longjohns standing on an indoor ice rink. "Orrrrrrr use one of the floaties from the pool? The big Tumsea ones?"
When his hands cup her face, Flora tips easily toward him, her smile pressed into the first second of the kiss before it gives way to something warmer. One arm slides around his waist while the other curls over his shoulders, fingers slipping into the damp towel at the back of his neck as she kisses him back with bright, helpless affection. What he won't be able to see is the way her palm opens behind him.
Spice, still perched on the counter like she’s been waiting for her cue, chirrups once and drops a cold little mound of fresh snow into Flora’s waiting hand. Through the bond there is probably just enough mischief to warn him that something is happening, but not nearly enough time to do anything useful about it. Flora breaks the kiss with a laugh already rising in her throat and shoves the snow straight down the back of his shirt.
Her eyebrows lift as if the problem of the sled has only just now reclaimed her attention despite her continued giggles. Still holding onto him with one hand, she tilts her head and looks around the kitchen with a thoughtful little hum, her gaze moving from the chairs to the bright spill of sunlight beyond the open doors. "Welllllll," Flora says slowly, drawing the word out as her smile curves again, "we could cut the legs off a chair?"
She lets that sit for half a second, as if it is a perfectly normal suggestion made by a queen in longjohns standing on an indoor ice rink. "Orrrrrrr use one of the floaties from the pool? The big Tumsea ones?"
and I hate accidents except when we went from friends to this
