A/N: Written for FF Kiss Battle 2011.
"There are a lot of good reasons why I shouldn't kiss you!" Edward managed, when he finished choking on his last sip of wine. Rydia tucked a stray lock of hair back behind her comb and blinked, looking for all the world like she hadn't just blurted out a completely ridiculous suggestion in the middle of a state holiday function. Edward composed himself and glanced around - nobody seemed to be paying them much mind right now, and why should they? It wasn't strange at all that the crown prince should share a dance with a friend and fellow hero, then stop to speak with her in a nearby alcove over a glass of wine. At least, it didn't seem that strange until Rydia had started coming up with ideas.
"Name one," Rydia said.
"We're in the middle of a court soiree," Edward said. "People will talk, for one."
"It's a party," Rydia said, leaning against the stone of the alcove and popping an out-of-season grape into her mouth. "I'd always heard that was the point of the whole exercise. Making people talk, I mean."
"There are lots of different sorts of parties, Rydia." Edward took another sip of his wine to hide his agitation. "I'm the sovereign of Damcyan. You are, roughly speaking, a foreign dignitary. It would be extremely impr-"
"What happened to the prince who wandered around dressed as a common minstrel?" Rydia said, cutting him off. "You weren't so concerned about scandal when I was a little girl."
"That's another reason. Two years ago, you were a little girl."
"I'm not a little girl anymore."
"Yes, but most people, er...take a little more time in the transition."
"It's been twelve years for me, and I can't stand it when people treat me like I'm still a child. Give me another reason." Edward cast around desperately for something to say. He had never had to argue a woman out of kissing him before. In the days before the war, when for a time he'd been nothing more than a young vagabond with an unusually fine voice, he'd had ample opportunity to acquaint himself with the ways of amorous young ladies. Usually there was at least a bit of tempting and coaxing in either direction before the subject of kissing even came up - the lead-up, in fact, often seemed to be the main event, and whatever happened afterwards merely the denouement. This had always suited Edward just fine, as he had always considered himself much better at wooing than at actually winning anyone.
He'd never met a woman who wanted to skip the moonlit serenades, the not-quite-anonymous letters, and the poetic discourses on their grace or beauty and get right to the point.
"I take it by your silence that you're out of reasons," Rydia said. Edward shook his head.
"No, it's - I mean..." he trailed off. There was one reason he could think of that would put an end to the query for good. Very simple, really: I won't kiss you, because I don't want to.
And he couldn't bring himself to say it, because it was a lie, and Edward had a feeling that Rydia would know. He suspected that was why they were having this argument in the first place.
"When I was growing up in the Feymarch," Rydia went on, a wry smile playing across her lips. "I always imagined that when I returned, you'd sweep me off my feet. It's what princes do in storybooks, after all."
"Ah. Well, I...I'm not sure I was ever very good at the sorts of things princes do."
Rydia sighed theatrically. "When we were on the road, somebody always had to teach you how to do things properly. I see the situation hasn't changed all that much." And with that, Rydia reached up, seized the collar of his coat with both hands, and pulled him down into a kiss worthy of the final stanza of a love ballad, forceful and dizzying and enough to make him forget that his newly-appointed seneschal and bailiff were standing right across the room and probably frowning disapprovingly.
"Now do you see how to do it right?" Rydia whispered. Edward shook his head.
"Not at all. I suspect I'll need much more practice."