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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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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