milliways_bar | (no subject)

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Well, she'd started out somber, big gray eyes watching the lake through the window, before she'd sighed and turned to mark the compositions she had brought back from Avonlea.

And now there is a shuffling of paper, and a pen being placed on the table, and merry gales of laughter issuing from the table by the window.

Perhaps our young Miss Shirley has finally cracked.

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"Hello, Anne," say Gilbert, greeting her even before he gets around to an entrance post.

"Everything all right?"

The peals of laughter would suggest that they are, and Anne shakes her head, shuffling them into a pile before looking up at him and smiling brilliantly.

"Hello, Gil. Yes, everything's fine--I was just marking some compositions. Who knew that a "sojourn" was a kind of man who wore a uniform and went off to war?"

Gil grins. "I learn something new every day, it appears," he says. "But why, Miss Shirley, are you marking compostions over our break?"

"Catching up," she says, lightly.

"I wanted something to do, I suppose."

Something other than staring out the window, really.

"How're you? Happy to be back in Avonlea for a while?"

"Oh, yes," he says. "I miss Avonlea, when I'm not there. But not as much as I miss you."

At this point it must be confessed that even his mun is beginning to hope Gil will outgrow at least some of the mush.

Well, they are teenagers.

Anne smiles at him.

"It's a good thing that we have this place then, I suppose," she says.

"I never thought I'd agree with you about that, but, yes, I suppose it is."

He grins at her.

"And are you currently staying at Green Gables, or here in the bar?"

"Green Gables," she says, putting the sheaf of papers to one side and stacking them neatly.

"The twins have been running riot. Well, Davy has been. You couldn't imagine Dora and 'riot' in the same sentence, really, could you? And it's been nice to spend some time at home without having to go over to the schoolhouse, really."

"I don't even know that I can imagine Dora and 'riot' in the same paragraph," he confesses. "Possibly in the same composition. But even Dora must be showing some signs of excitement. It's almost Christmas, after all."

"She is," Anne allows, "although not as much as Davy."

She shakes her head, with a smile that crinkles the corners of her eyes. It's a very Amy smile.

"Davy asked for an Indian headdress for Christmas. Dora asked for crochet needles."

It's a beautiful smile, and there is no way Gil can keep from smiling back.

"I am trying to imagine Mrs. Lynde snowed into a house with a war-whooping Davy."

"There's no need to imagine it," Anne says, laughing. "It's been going on for the past three days. Mrs. Lynde says that her nerves are just about done in, that's what, and if Davy had been her boy, she'd have sent him to bed after the first time with no supper and a darn good spanking."

Gil laughs back.

"Oh, dear," he says. "And so are you here tonight to get away from the Indian chief? Or from Mrs. Lynde?"

"Well," Anne says, reluctantly, "I may have allowed Davy some strawberry preserves tonight, after Mrs. Lynde sent him up to bed."

So, avoiding Mrs. Lynde.

"Anne Shirley, whatever are we going to do with you?" Gil asks, all mock exasperation.

"I suppose she'll forgive you eventually."

"Well, he really was sorry," she protests, but a smile begins to quirk the corners of her mouth.

"Besides, I've become quite good at apologizing to Rachel Lynde."

"Well, you've had rather a lot of practice," he points out.

He reaches out to take her hand, simply because he can.

"And how are you other then war-whooped and temporarily out of Rachel Lynde's good graces?"

"Doing very well," she says, smiling warmly at him, and her fingers tighten in his.

"Happy that school is out. Glad to be home, and glad to see you. Marilla and Rachel, by the way, are very relieved to hear that you and I are speaking again."

Amoung other things.

"Are they now?" he asks, lacing his fingers through hers. "That I am grateful to hear. I'm not sure I could face the displeasure of both Marilla and Mrs. Lynde."

"And just one of them would be all right?"

Anne's eyes are dancing, and she bites her lip, smiling.

"Well, I am a little brave, Anne," he says. "I think I might be able to face Marilla or Mrs. Lynde. But not both."

Gil likes the way Anne's eyes dance, when she's happy. He likes her lips pretty well, too.

"They are fairly formidable," she agrees solemnly.

His hand in hers is warm, and familiar, and she smiles at him with wide starry eyes.

"Besides, they thought me a proper little idiot about the whole thing. I think they may have been on your side the whole time."

"Well, they are, after all, very wise women," Gil points out, not quite managing to not smile.

Anne rolls her eyes, but she's smiling too.

"As Mrs. Rachel points out daily," she says, drily, but without any real sincerity. Anne, after all, is very fond of Rachel Lynde, despite frequent disagreements of opinion.

You'd have to be fond of Mrs. Lynde to share a house with her. Or you'd kill her.

"Another sign of her wisdom, no doubt, knowing that she is wise."

Still not letting go of Anne's hand.

"I suppose so," Anne say, with a small smile, and her fingers only move to lace more firmly through his.

"Anyway, she's a comfort and a help to Marilla, and you know that makes me feel ever so much better about planning to go away next year."

"Yes, and I'm glad that Marilla has her."

They could be discussing anything, really, and Gil would barely notice. He's just happy to be here with her, and to have her hand in his.

Anne's smile is very content, and warm, and her clear gray eyes never leave Gilbert's face.

There had been a moment, once, when she'd thought it easier to look at Gilbert when he was not able to see her.

She had been wrong.

Gil leans a little closer, his eyes never leaving hers, and says very softly, "If you keep looking at me like that, Anne, I am going to kiss you in front of all these people."

Her eyes dance, and she bites her lip to keep from laughing.

"That would be terrible," she agrees, archly.

"Perhaps I'll go get us some tea, instead."

"I don't think I need any tea right now," he says, still not letting go of her hand.

Seriously thinking about kissing her.

"Then should I stop looking?" she inquires, smiling softly.

Refusing tea! It is unheard of.

"Not necessarily," he says, reaching up with his free hand to touch her hair, and her face.

She might lean into the touch, just slightly, smiling.

"And have you be accused of forwardness, Mr. Blythe? I don't know, Gil. That seems remarkably unfair."

"Do you find me to be forward, Miss Shirley?" he asks, bringing her hand up to his lips to kiss it.

"You, Gil," she says, with a smile in starry gray eyes that warm for him, "are a perfect gentleman.

"Despite your teasing me all of the time."

"Well," he says, still looking into her eyes, "I could promise to stop teasing you, but I don't make promises I know I won't keep."

Which means that the comment earlier, about what would happen if she kept looking at him? She can pretty much count on it.

He leans closer, and then kisses her gently.

There may have been something she was going to say to that.

And then she might sigh a little, and smile a little.

But all that's certain is that her eyes close and her fingers tighten in Gilbert's and she kisses him back softly.

They stay that way for a long moment, eyes closed, end of the universe forgotten, and then Gil pulls back just far enough to grin at her.

"Well, I did warn you, Anne."

She blinks at him, and then lifts her chin indignantly, though her eyes are sparkling merrily.

"Indeed you did! And gave me no way out, you know. How terribly rude of you, Gil. One would almost think you wanted to kiss me."

"Almost," he agrees, cheerfully.

"How terrible," she says, almost laughing.

And then, because he is still very close, she kisses him lightly and quickly, just at the corner of his mouth, and sits back, looking really rather satisfied with herself.

Gil might look just the tiniest bit smug.

Tiniest bit.

Oh, very well, a bit more than that.

"Terrible?"

Anne can look smug, too. She has the icon to prove it.

"Deplorable," she agrees, cheerfully. "I'm not at all sure I shall ever be able to forgive you for it."

"Can't have that," he says. "Whatever would Marilla and Mrs. Lynde say?"

A pause, while he appears to consider the problem.

"Is there anything I can do to make it up to you, Anne?"

"I'm sure," she says, with a laugh, "that you can think of something, Gil. After all, we wouldn't want Marilla or Mrs. Lynde hearing about it."

And perhaps she bites her lip, just slightly, and her gaze turns thoughtful--but it is only in passing and she is smiling as brightly as ever in a moment.

"I could get you tea," he offers, grinning.

"That would be perfect," she says, and grins back, letting go of his hand now.

Because tea is ever so important.

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