This was my "belated" birthday drabble for lala-kate who was dying for a continuation of preview of the Mary/Charles kiss in 5x07. Silly and fluffy, and went the other direction from where I originally intended, but managed to be rather close to the mark after all...
She searches for air to fill her lungs, but for some reason, her body doesn't seem to be interested in actually breathing. The swirl of voices around her, Charles' hand under her elbow — possibly the only thing keeping her upright at this very moment —, Tony's petulant glare in her direction, the teasing lilt in Mabel's voice. And then her own crisp voice, something rolling off her tongue with acerbic authority that seemed to end the matter, yet she has no idea what she actually says. Was it something about following her when she made it clear she didn't want a follower and her answer was final?
Honestly, she really needs a wall to slump against for just one moment, some way to pause everything to figure out what on earth had just happened with Charles and his brilliant idea to help her when somehow it only seemed to be confusing things all the more.
Or rather, confusing her all the more. Because as shocking as his suggestion had been, it wasn't nearly as shocking at what his lips on hers made her feel.
Forget the giddy sense of empowerment and attraction she thought she had felt with Tony. Every memory of his arms around her, their skin gliding together had been forgotten with Charles' sudden embrace and warm mouth against hers, the spicy note of his aftershave filling her senses, realizing her slightly parted lips allowed her to taste him all the more and those hints of Scotch still dancing at the edges of his mouth.
They somehow join the press of others headed for the stairs down to the theatre lobby, and she is only now getting her spinning head under control. Damn him, he wasn't supposed to be able to do this to her; she was the one to be tugging the leads. She steels herself with a few deep breaths, wrestling to make sure her composure is once more in her grasp.
"You surprise me, Charles." He turns and raises a brown in question in her direction. "That wasn't at all proper."
"And you are one for doing things properly?"
She quiets him with a look, annoyed he is running the other direction with her bait. Or so she thinks.
"It was the only thing to come to mind at that moment." He pauses, glancing at several of the heads that were still turning in their direction. "And it seems you weren't the only one I caught by surprise."
The heat returns to her cheeks, and she tries to quell the trembling that is beginning to tingle along her legs and settle somewhere deep in her belly. "Hmm, no that wasn't proper either," she muses softly.
He hesitates, searching her face with a calculating look, making her glance away. She is reminded once more she has to be careful playing this game with him; he always seemed to be one step ahead of where she expects him.
"And you were instead referring to?"
She sniffs, assuming her best air of indifference, and wondering if she can pull it off. "That whole notion of a kiss. I somehow had assumed you'd bit more, shall we say, polished when initiating a kiss with a lady, even if it is one meant to deceive."
His low chuckle makes parts of her clench with a teasing frustration. "So not what you would consider a proper first kiss, then."
"Calling it a first kiss would be assuming there would be more to follow."
"And you don't think there will be?"
She bites the inside of her lip, unsure of a retort that won't completely reject something she is beginning to question ever deciding to reject. She looks over the crowded lobby. "You can see to getting me a cab."
He stops, the shock genuine on his face. "What, am I out a companion for tea, then?"
Her chin lifts slightly. "I think you should be," she says, fiddling with her gloves, wishing only for a second of solitude now to try and tamp down this rush of nervousness that has her heart still racing. Certainly it has to be some onset of nerves.
Tilting his head, he gives her that look she is too familiar with by now, the one that lasts a heartbeat longer than it should, the one where he is trying to figure her out.
"Very well, then, I'll take that as my punishment. I won't argue it wasn't worth it." He glances across the lobby then pauses before turning back to her. "Are you certain about wanting that cab? Because I fear it might come with a second round of Tony Gillingham."
Flicking a glance over to where he had been looking, she can't miss Tony, his expression pinched with anger as he is staring back at her. A breath leaves her with an unexpected sound, and her body immediately tenses with what she fears to come — all the worse, no doubt, thanks to that kiss.
"Never mind, this way." Charles' arm is at her waist now, deftly turning her at the bottom of the stair to guide her through the last of the exiting patrons toward the back of the theatre, polite, Excuse us and Thank you's to the surprised ushers dropping in their wake.
She somehow manages not to miss a step or stumble the entire way, stepping out ahead of Charles into the alley now shadowed from the late afternoon sun. She pauses and glances up at the crisp blue of the late summer sky, before finally speaking again.
"You seem to know that route a little too well."
He chuckles softly, allowing her past him to where the bright light of the high street beckons. "Would you believe a secret career as a performer on stage?"
She tosses him a sharp glance. "With the way you've maneuvered things of late, yes, I think I would."
His laugh is genuine at that, echoing off the brick walls of the narrow lane, making that annoying nervous flutter in her stomach leap all the more.
"I'll take that as a compliment, though I know you don't mean it that way." His eyes are still sparkling with a knowing familiarity.
Her heart feels suddenly tight in her throat, and she slows slightly as the sounds of a late afternoon in he city begin to take over as the alleyway ends. She stops just shy of where the sun shines a bright line across the pavement, glancing up to look at him as he stands fully bathed in the warm light.
It's one of those moments where each is waiting for something from the other, some moment where time nearly pauses as secret desires finally whisper wishes unheard. Why can't he kiss me now? Here, with dirty pavement under her patent leather heels, just a step away from everything else, the bustle and movement of everyone else.
Yet he doesn't. She can see her own thoughts echoed in his gaze, and yet he doesn't. He just waits, unabashed, undeterred, until finally he breaks their tableau.
"Let me see if I can fetch you that cab," he says softly.
A hand presses to his arm, holding him for the briefest moment.
"No, wait."
And he does, even as her hand trembles ever so slightly against his sleeve.
"I think I've changed my mind about tea after all," she says, finally stepping forward into the sunlight. "That is, if you can behave yourself." She can't help but arch her brow at him.
A grin she has to admit she has come to love spreads across her face. "Well, I can promise you I will try to. Is that enough?"
This time it is her laughter that lifts away in to the sound of distant traffic.
"I suppose it will have to be."