“yeah.” he nods at the gift, pressing his lips together in some mediocre attempt to stifle whatever it is that’s coming up his throat.
turns out it’s just laughter: wholesome, unabated laughter. it breaks out amidst the crackling of the fire in the fireplace and distant caw of a crow. when he’s finally able to stand up straight again and look her in the eye, he offers a rather unworldly smile. “jesus, merlin, whatever — the look on your face. it’s kind of hard not to notice your, like, boobs when noticing you in general.” he picks the garment up by the strap and examines it before placing it back into her hands. “it wasn’t like, oh i’m going to buy peyton a bra, better eye measure her size. anyway, it’s pretty right? i like red.” a shake of the head, then he gently punches her on the shoulder.
kai lifts the other half of the gift and tosses it twice into the air. “want to listen?” he doesn’t wait for her answer when he’s already placing it into the cassette player that he’s been hiding behind his back. ‘i saw mommy kissing santa claus,’ 1970.
kai’s laughter is an infectious disease, peyton’s long figured this out—they’ve been best friends since their first year, after all—but being aware didn’t mean that she was unaffected, doesn’t mean that the gryffindor bursting into laughter before her now doesn’t wipe the confusion plaguing expressive features off by the slightest.
by the time he was done, peyton found it hard to even resist smiling back in the face of the boyish curve that took to his face. “hey—you don’t look at those, or well—most people don’t. or is that all boys look at?” her brows furrow, thrown off by her own question while she watches him, lips pressed into a thin line and cheeks ruddy. “then what was it like? oh you know what pey needs? a nice red bra.” her head shakes, unable to stop the laugh that slips out anyway. it was a little weird, but she’s the one that got him a slug, so what can she say?
“it’s pretty, thank you kai.” peyton smiles earnestly, giving a little smack in retaliation to the punch before moving to wrap the bra up (it would be a weird situation to get caught in, wouldn’t it?), attention turning to the tape he tosses in the air. “sure! is it just for me? a special peyton park christmas mix?” she quips curiously, already taking steps closer to the cassette player.
“this is really old school of you—see, now i feel like i have to do more than just a slug.”
prguitarman
janainaart
2087
kaledo-art
germansingergirl
kianamaiart
areudirty
andulkaphoto
romaincrisis
snowghoul
