Hey! Sorry for disappearing there for a few days. Life got hectic, what with the 4th of July and work... Well, I wrote another oneshot for you all (they're kind of what I do best), so I hope you enjoy it!
I own nothing.
From the very first moment he had seen her, he had wanted to kiss her. Not in any sort of lascivious or indecent way, mind you. He might not have money, but he's a gentleman. It was more that what that kiss would signify that the actual physical act of the kiss. It would mean the acknowledgement that Mary Poppins belonged as wholly to him as he to her.
0ooo0
He had been a screever that first day (there is a reason he has always loved the days he puts chalk to sidewalk). A couple of his sweep friends had stopped by to study his work and pass some time talking between jobs. While he drew, they started talking about Johnny, a friend due to be married in a month. That inevitably led to a discussion of the ideal woman and his friends inevitably trying to draw out his answer.
A shadow fell over his drawing. "Pardon me, but that is a truly beautiful drawing." The words sounded more like singing than talking. Startled, he stood up and spun around, dusting his hands off on his pants. He was even more surprised when he found himself eye to eye with widened startlingly blue eyes, staring out from the most beautiful face he had ever seen. They stood there without movement, his friends and the people passing by forgotten. Silently, he berated himself, he should have checked first to make sure of where she was standing; now they were standing close enough that he could feel her breath on his face and she was shocked enough not to move. If it weren't entirely inappropriate, he could put a little more weight on the balls of his feet and easily kiss her. And, Lord, he wanted to.
"'Scuse me, miss," he mumbled, tipping an imaginary hat when he remembered that his actual hat sat on the ground and stepped back, directly onto the drawing she so admired.
"Oh dear," she exclaimed. "Your drawing! I startled you and now it's ruined. I apologize."
He grinned; finally something he could deal with easily. "S'all right, miss," he beamed, going to work. "Nothing a little chalk can't fix."
"The same can't be said of your pants, I'm afraid," she said, a laugh hiding behind her perfectly smooth face. He looked down, saw the bright blue streaks down the legs and blushed crimson. "Do let me help with that." She snapped her fingers and a bright blue cloud puffed off the offending garment before settling on the ground.
He blinked in surprise. That shouldn't have been possible, but it had happened. It would take another month of meetings before Bert would realize that the shouldn't-be-possible often happened around Mary Poppins. "Cor, 'ow'd you do that?" he asked.
She reached into the pocket of her coat and produced a coin, dropping it into his hat. "That's not a question for today," she responded. "So I shan't answer."
"What can you answer?" he asked.
"I think my name shall suffice for this meeting." She sounded so assured they'd meet again. "I'm Mary Poppins. And you are?"
"Bert. Bert Alfred," he scrambled to answer.
"It was wonderful to make your acquaintance, Bert Alfred," she smiled. "I believe I shall see you again soon."
"'ow can you-"
She silences him with a wink and turns sharply on your heel. "Au revoir, Bert."
When she'd gone, his friends all started laughing, poking fun at his nervousness and clumsiness, but never, he noticed, at Mary Poppins. "Lads," he announces. "That's 'er."
"That's 'oo, Bert?"
"Nothin', never mind."
"Bert," Tom, the youngest sweep who's little older than an apprentice, "There was somethin' about 'er. She's tricky, but she 'as kind eyes."
He grinned at Tom's perfect description. "She does, Tom. That she does."
He never forgot Tom's words—it's one of the few times he had ever heard Mary Poppins described accurately. She had returned to the park the next time he was there and the time after that and the time after that. She would always leave a coin until one day—almost a year to the day after their first meeting—he stopped her, insisting the pleasure of her company was more than enough. She insisted that the coin was of her own volition, so jokingly he had suggested that if she so desperately wanted to pay him, she could kiss him on the cheek.
"Bert!" she had exclaimed, acting scandalized, but her eyes sparkled.
"Aw, Mary Poppins, you know I'm just pulling your leg."
"Are you certain about that, Bert?" she smiled. He wondered if he sensed a challenge behind the words, but credited it to a hidden laugh or something. Laughs nearly always were hidden quite carefully right beyond her placid face.
"Absolutely," he nodded and lied.
"Well, then, I suppose, I should be on my way."
He never figured out if there was a note of disappointment in her voice.
0ooo0
Now, nearly ten years into their friendship, it has become a sort of running joke that Bert always showers her with compliments and opportunities for her to kiss him, while she always laughs and scolds him gently. He's long since given up the idea that she'll take him up on the offer. As he told her the day he first mentioned it, the mere pleasure of her company is enough.
Every second Tuesday, they take a walk in the park and today is no exception. She looks simply lovely, dressed in a sensible blue dress. The fabric is dark and staid, almost navy, but if you catch it off guard, out of the corner of your eye, there's a hint of brilliance woven through it. If you were to ask Bert, he'd say there'd never been a fabric that resembles its wearer quite so well.
"Mary Poppins, if I may say so, you're looking tip top from head to toe!" he exclaims when she approaches.
Her lips curl into a gentle smile. "Now Bert, none of your larking about," she chides him. "But if you must, I suppose you must."
He brings her gloved hand up and brushes his lips against her knuckles. Then he realizes exactly what he's done and drops her hand as if it's scalded him. She's never kissed him, but he's never kissed her either. He'd never dream of doing anything that might make her uncomfortable.
"You might act as if touching me doesn't repulse you," she suggests with a smile. He's unpleasantly aware that she's acutely conscious of his nerves.
"I don't know why I'm so jumpy today. Coffee must've been stronger'n usual this morning," he improvises, trying to come up with a believable reason for being so high-strung.
"Coffee, right," she sighs, pushing an errant lock of hair out of her face.
He offers her his arm and manages not to jump when she takes it. They walk for a little bit in silence. "Bert," she finally says, breaking the quiet first by clearing her throat. "I have a question."
"You 'ave a question for me? An' 'ere I was thinking Mary Poppins 'ad an answer for everythin'!"
"Oh, do attempt to act like some semblance of an adult," she scolds, but the corners of her mouth turn up into a smile.
"What's your question, Mary?" he asks gently. He rarely ever calls her just by her Christian name, preferring, as most do, to use her full name in almost every instance. There's something about her right now though, a certain softness, that begs to just be Mary, not Mary Poppins and certainly not Miss Poppins.
"All of those jokes about kissing, did you… well, did you ever once mean it?"
He carefully considers what kind of answer she's looking for and can't decide. Her face is completely smooth, the answer inscrutable behind her features. So he doesn't answer, because she's his best friend and he would never put that in jeopardy. "That's not a question for today," he replies, repeating her very words from ten years ago. "So I shan't answer."
Mary laughs. "You are light headed," she informs him and they continue to walk, joking now and again, gossiping about her latest charges, who are somewhat monstrous, and sometimes falling into comfortable silence.
It's after one of these instances of silence that Mary tilts her head back to meet the sun. He suddenly realizes that her hand has slipped from his arm and entwined with his hand. "It's been such a lovely day. I don't want it to end," she admits.
"Even the best days 'ave to end," he points out.
"I suppose. If it must, it must."
They've reached the edge of the park and it's time for them to part ways. "I'd offer you a 'andshake for luck with the little ones," he says, "But you've already got my 'and."
She seems surprised by this revelation. "So I have. Well, I appreciate the sentiment anyways."
"Y'know," he grins. "A kiss from a sweep is just as lucky."
"You're a sweep now, are you?" she smiles. "I seem to recall you being a screever when I met you this morning."
"I'm always a sweep, Mary Poppins. E'en without my brushes."
"So you are, Bert," she answers. "And you expect me to kiss you, I suppose, because I need the luck."
"Well, no. You may be the one person on this earth 'oo 'as never needed the luck," he responds. "But I thought you'd appreciate the sentiment."
"I do."
"I'd never expect you to do anything you din't want to, Mary," he says earnestly. "You know I'm just joking about the kiss."
She looks at him for a moment, studying him with those kind eyes. "I'm not," she tells him. Then she leans forward and kisses him softly on the lips. It's nothing more than a quick, perfunctory, almost business-like kiss, but he sees stars. "Cor, what was that for?" he asks, dazed.
"I needed the luck," she explains. Then she leans forward again and kisses him for a second time in the exact same manner as the first. "That was merely because I wanted to."
He grins as his arms make their way around her narrow waist. "I'm feeling very lucky all of a sudden."
"I entirely agree, Bert." She returns his goofy grin with a smaller one that is just as happy. "Now, I really must be getting back to the children."
He bends down and kisses her quickly. "Just a little more luck," he tells her.
She laughs. "I think I've got all the luck I need now. But perhaps I'll bring the children by tomorrow so you might meet them. It's about time they visit the park."
"Tomorrow then."
She rushes off before any more can be said and Bert makes his way back to his chalk drawings, feeling like the luckiest man in the world. He knows somewhere deep down, just is absolutely certain, that Mary Poppins is as wholly his as he is hers and there's never been a more glorious feeling in the world.
I hope you liked it!
-Juli-