[[ lexington, kentucky ]]

[itwasjustified]

[ "how do you feel about wings?" ]

Raylan wipes the last of the grease from his fingers and crumples the paper napkin.

With a lazy toss, he nails the nearby wastebasket.

He reaches for his glass of sweet iced tea, and his eyes slide from what's left of their dinner to Reese.

"Got a verdict yet?"

Comments

[notenlightened]

She nearly groans out loud, slumping against the back of her chair, her heels stuttering against the carpet.

"Ask me again when I've remembered how to digest."

[itwasjustified]

"So it was that good."

[notenlightened]

"Don't look so smug, marshal, you'll ruin the moment."

[itwasjustified]

"I'll just gloat quietly over here, then."

[notenlightened]

"You do that. I'm going to try not to look at any kind of food for a while."

She takes a sip of tea, slowly savoring the full feeling.

[itwasjustified]

He takes a pull from his own glass and returns it to the table.

"Careful, you're givin' me ammo for that interrogation."

[notenlightened]

"Torture by food?"

She raises an eyebrow.

"Unoriginal."

[itwasjustified]

"What would you use for leverage, then?"

[notenlightened]

"The hat."

Her fingers are already plucking it up to place it on top of her head.

[itwasjustified]

Both eyebrows rise as the hat leaves his head.

"You play dirty, detective."

[notenlightened]

She tips the hat forward on her head until the brim covers the front half of her face.

"Not the first time I've heard that."

[itwasjustified]

One corner of his mouth quirks upward.

"Workin' the intimidation angle now, I see."

[notenlightened]

She peers over at him, her eyes in shadow.

"Is it working?"

[itwasjustified]

"Well, after seein' how you look in it, I'm afraid I'll never get it back."

Half a beat.

"So I think that's a yes."

[notenlightened]

Reese swipes fingertips across the brim, index and thumb.

Beat.

"Well, it's been sized to your head, not mine."

[itwasjustified]

His eyes follow her fingers.

"So you're sayin' size does matter."

[notenlightened]

She drops her hand, and the hat slides down a few inches over her forehead.

"In this case, yes."

[itwasjustified]

He stands, long, lean limbs unfolding in an easy, fluid motion, and he's close, barely two breaths away.

"Nah -- you're still intimidatin', see?"

[notenlightened]

She draws in a breath - this close, it's hard to tell.

She licks her lips. Tastes sweet tea.

"Guess it is all in how you wear it."

[itwasjustified]

He tips back the Stetson, all the better to see her eyes, and his free hand cups her nape.

His eyes flick to the hat, then to her mouth.

A heartbeat later, he dips his head to kiss her.

[notenlightened]

There's another brief inhale - this one's sharper, anticipatory - and it happens seconds before his lips make contact with hers.

Her eyes reflexively drift shut, her fingers slowly snaking around his wrist. The pad of her thumb bumps up against his pulse point to feel it flutter underneath skin.

[itwasjustified]

Her lips are salt-sweet, warm and soft; when her fingers circle his wrist, Raylan tilts his head to deepen the kiss.

He's insistent but not demanding, his hand leaving the Stetson to stroke her cheek.

[notenlightened]

It won't require much in the way of coaxing to get her to respond.

She breathes a sigh into the kiss. Tilts her head into the caress of his hand.

[itwasjustified]

Fingers threading into her hair, he closes what little distance is left between them, lines and curves and planes, geometry at its most base.

When he breaks the kiss, he pulls back just enough to breathe, his nose nudging hers.

[notenlightened]

There's a different taste, she notices, drawing her lower lip into her mouth when he breaks from her. This close, her half-lidded gaze barely brings the slope of his nose into focus. Her hand slips down to the muscle of his forearm.

"Took you long enough," she manages.