❣️ !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
It had been her turn to lock up the library - and Prompto had been there at the end of her shift. His visit had been good timing, & here they are, walking out of the building, waving their goodbyes at the security guards.
Their walk through the town-square is all laughs and banter, and with the weather not being AS COLD as it should be, Mary’s biting down on the finger-tip of one of her gloves, preferring to have them off. There’s no need for them. And as she halts her footsteps to find exactly WHERE the pockets on her coat are ( she’s struggling to stuff the damned gloves in there ), Prompto points out what’s ALLEGEDLY a mistletoe above them.
❝Hmm—?!❞ Her head snaps up quickly then, and she stares in awe up at the wretched little thing. Just as quickly, she lowers her stare.
—Wretched and gods-sent all at once. The witch feels a familiar tingle rush over her cheeks, even in the evening’s gentle chill, and she watches intently as her friend is refusing, or perhaps unable, to stand still as he jokes about it.
… She COULD do it, though…
❝H-hey, I’m not one to disobey TRADITION. Let’s do it!❞ She teases - and it seems she’s got his attention now. Her grin is mildly devilish, and she’s grateful for the dusk covering her flushed cheeks as she chews her bottom lip deviously.
He’s cute when he’s tripping out. Mary giggles, both hands coming up to grasp Prompto’s jacket.
❝You pointed it out, Prom! I-I’m not backing down, are you~?❞ She keeps breaking into giggle-fits, and gods, she hopes Prompto hasn’t picked up on her nervous-habits. Like that one. Her cheeks are burning up, and she dares to look up at him. ❝… So get down here—nerd.❞ She’d never admit how their proximity makes her mind go blank; how it’s the real reason her words are delayed. With a gentle tug, and a boost of her tip-toes, Mary lightly brushes the tip of her nose to his, as if using that for guidance. So that she won’t lose aim like an IDIOT. Her eyes meet his for only an instant, before her gaze lowers.
How long’s it been since her first kiss, anyway? Nine years? —Even then, that had been an innocent peck, but at least they’d aimed right! She doesn’t intend on screwing this one up!
She’s delicate in her approach, lips brushing gently against his before pressing them together, eyes finally closing. She’s hesitant to move, hesitant to pull away. Her hand comes up to rest against the back of his neck without her ever really thinking it through, but she’s holding him there while she continues to seek his warmth for a few seconds more. She’s so TEMPTED to go beyond just THIS, to give him her all before her nerves force her apart from him—but she can’t, because friends don’t get so passionate over a little GAME brought on by nothing other than tradition.
Stars, he’s so warm. So soft. He’s so close—and she wants him this close all the time. She can’t have that.
Bless that stupid mistletoe, and his stellar timing. She knows she will never again find an excuse to kiss him. Her teeth find his lower lip, and she gives a gentle tug as they come apart from each other, eyes meeting his again, but not quite, and not steadily. —After all, teasing the hell out of him is a very ‘ Mary ‘ thing to do. He’ll never question it.
Again, she breaks into that giggle-fit, and she squeals, hands flying up to cup her face. ❝You’re blushing, Prom!❞ She jests, pointing at him playfully.
❝I’m kidding! I can’t see shit. I bet ‘cha are, though!❞
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