I think you're shiftin' all my tectonic plates

slow down, you're doing fine

Flora’s eyes go wide as moons the moment Kai tries to salvage his pegasus problem, her expression dripping with exaggerated scepticism. "Mhmm, suuuuuuuuure," she drawls, stretching the word like spun sugar as she lifts her brows at him. "I’m certain there are plenty of other pegasi beating down your door, dying to let you climb on." With a sniff, she tips her chin up. "And why would I pick other dragons?"

But then he presses his forehead to hers and everything else in Flora’s body just...unwinds. All the cold she hadn’t noticed creeping into her toes, all the shadows clawing at the edges of old memories, Kai folds them into nothing with a single touch. Her fingers ease along his arm, her cheek brushing his temple like her whole soul is leaning toward him. She hums a soft, breath-warm agreement against his skin, the kind that says without words that she’d go anywhere with him, even into the terrifying unknown of getting stronger for reasons neither of them can quite say aloud.

His what? hits with such genuine bafflement that Flora’s eyes widen again, searching his face with a squint, wondering if he’s teasing her. But no; she sees no mischief, no knowing glint, no smug curve of delight at watching her implode. Just pure, unfiltered confusion. Which means she has to explain. Gods help her.

Flora inhales sharply, puffing out her cheeks, steeling herself like she’s about to confess to murder. "No...uh," she manages, her voice thin and strangled. "Not Mateo." A helpless little sound slips out of her, high and mortified. "My parents." She cringes hard enough her shoulders jump. "I mean, half of them are sex demigods," she blurts in a single breath, hands flinging up before collapsing dramatically into her lap. "So it happes, and I just..." She gives him a tiny, dying-animal shrug, mortification clinging to her like wet laundry.

Flora

you can't be everything you wanna be before your time

The icing on your cake, the cherry on the top

"Maybe!" There isn't, but he can't let her know that, however obvious it is. Gotta keep a little bit of mystery, keep her guessing. "Becaaaaause, it'd be too easy if it's one of your dads. The deal is to trade. Although maybe we should just have a good ol' dragon race?" You know, the usual. Maybe with some competitive fire her fathers would put a little more giddy in the up.

The surprise goes further yet when she reveals it's not Mateo to blame, the rather obvious culprit in Kaisel's eyes, but her parents. Admittedly, he didn't consider the sex demi-god portion of her parentage, in part because he still hasn't met her mother, but Sunjata should have been a clear guess, though Kaisel's mind leapfrogs immediately from Mateo to Ronin and Remi with an aghast understanding of why she doesn't want Ronin in their bedroom at night now. "Oh," comes the better realization after she offers up the explanation of Frey and all that. "Uh, damn, that must be hella awkward," he admits, not that it seems she needs the reminder.

A small laugh escapes him at the absurdity of it, even as sorry as he feels. "Can you imagine if you had like a cousin-uncle?" He makes a face like he's chewed on a lemon, leaning in to grab her and tip her back into his chest, squirming in the booth to face her more and thumping the table along the way, silverware rattling with the sudden force. "Well, you can put that fear to bed, then," he reassures, hand pulling her hair around in a sweeping motion so her neck is bare for a kiss or two. "Because it's just you baby girl."

This would, of course, be when the waitress returns with their check. Her sharp ahem cuts across his back towards them as the paper is set down on the table beneath the slap of her palm.

Kaisel

The perfect mix of Saturday night and the rest of your life

slow down, you're doing fine

Flora’s grin goes slow and feline, the kind that promises mischief and triumph in equal measure, her eyes narrowing with delighted challenge. "Sure," she purrs, stretching the word like honey as she taps one finger thoughtfully against her lips. "And you can even have first pick on the dragons." Her tone is outrageously generous, almost saintly—until the playful glint betrays her entirely. "Not that it’ll help you. I’m still winning." There is no universe in which she is not winning their race, and the knowledge curls bright and smug through her shoulders as she sits back against him.

As Kai processes the horror of her question, Flora nods vigorously, eyes blowing wide in near-trauma. "Right?? It’s bad enough when it’s my friends," she mutters, wrinkling her nose like she’s smelled something suspicious. "But when it's someone I'm dating...." But then he says cousin-uncle and her grimace morphs into a despairing groan before collapsing dramatically against him again, her curls spilling everywhere, her life briefly ending over the imagined genealogical nightmare.

And then he grabs her, twisting, pulling, rearranging her as if she weighs nothing, the booth rattling, the silverware clattering, her laughter tumbling up helplessly in her throat. She melts into him instantly, joy quickening through her chest like a skipped heartbeat. His reassurance wraps around her as warm as the sweep of his fingers through her hair, and the press of his lips against her neck sends a fluttering warmth down her spine, sparking bright and giddy beneath her skin.

"Gods," she sighs into him, delight widening her grin, "you really do know how to make a girl feel special, don’t yo—"

AHEM.

The sharp, stabbing sound of the world’s most unimpressed waitress slices right through the moment as the check slaps down onto the table. If anything, it only makes Flora’s joy fizz brighter, like shaken champagne. She giggles—full, musical, and absolutely unrepentant—as though they’re teenagers caught making out behind the gym during class. "Thank youuuuuuuuu," she trills, sweet and airy.

Dipping into her pocket, she scatters an overly generous handful of coins onto the tray without even counting them, the tip large enough to absolve them of every last sin committed in this booth. Then she nudges Kai pointedly, wriggling like she might physically shove him out if he doesn’t move. Though the moment he stands, Flora practically glues herself to his side, sliding beneath his arm and pressing close as if she was built for exactly this shape of him. Her curls brush against his shoulder as she beams up at him, full of anticipation and leftover affection and the sugary-syrup glow of too much breakfast and too much love.

"Come on," she chirps, nudging his hip with hers. "Let’s go get Asta’s tea."

She bundles herself back into her jacket with a little hop, loops her arm through his again, and with a last quick kiss to his shoulder, steps out with him into the rain.

~FIN

Flora

you can't be everything you wanna be before your time