Handsome
Sitting on one of the tracks that overlook Llyn Mwyngil. The very badly named lake in a pleasant place.
"I hate this." Bran murmurs.
"Hate what?" I ask, twirling a bit of grass between my fingers.
"What's coming. You know, I just get these minor feelings of dread. The Dark rising, people getting killed or worse. Last Easter was bad enough."
Cafall. Something I wish Bran had never had to go through, losing his dog like that. "I'm sorry."
"You Old Ones, you can take it. Leave the world behind, leaving us ordinary folk to flounder in confusion."
"Now you know you're not ordinary." I protest. "You could never be ordinary to anyone."
"That's lovely, that is. Everyone look at the freak."
"I didn't mean that. I meant who you are."
He snorts, pushing his sunglasses back up his nose. "And Arthur wouldn't have believed the freak was his son. I don't bloody well even look like him."
"You do. You're handsome like him. Have all the girls flocking round once they get over the initial shock."
"Oh, cheers. You know how to raise a boy's ego, so you do."
"Got to take pity on you some time." I grin.
"Pity? I'll give you pity, you English git." He says, pounces on me. We go rolling a short way down the slope, play wrestling. Bran pins me, panting slightly and grinning from ear to ear. "Now, what was that about handsome?"
"I'm good at insults."
"Insults, now is it?" Pause. He cocks his head slightly, fixing me with a steady golden gaze. Lost his glasses in the tussle. "Were you telling the truth?"
"What about?"
"The good-looking thing."
"Um, yes?" Another long pause. "Are you going to get off me?"
"Now why would I want to be doing a thing like that?"
"Not sure." I'm starting to feel very uncomfortable. "So are you going to?"
He brushes a bit of my fringe away, still giving me that examining look he's had on his face for the past few minutes. "No." Then leans down and kisses me. For an instant I'm too shocked to say anything, staring at him. "Have a problem, boyo?"
"Let my brain deal with the shock first, will you?" I croak. I'm suddenly very aware of his body pressing into mine. Well, not suddenly. I knew it was there, just tried to - ignore it? It's not like I hadn't noticed he was good-looking before.
I get a few deep breaths in. Bran brings up a hand to touch my face lightly. "Better?"
"I - I think so."
"So, are you going to zap me with those dewin powers of yours for kissing you?"
Another deep breath. "No."
"That's good. I should be getting off you, though." He says, shifting slightly to let him get up.
My hands suddenly get a mind of their own, grabbing him around the waist. I'm equally surprised with the force I say the next word, too. "No!"
"And why might that be, hmm?" He's grinning slightly.
Stammer. "I -that is - oh, sod it." Pull one hand from where it's glued to his waist, fix it to the back of his head and pull him down into a kiss.
When we surface from that one, Bran rolls off me, then turns onto his side to fix me with his eyes again. I wonder if he knows how hypnotic they are. "You're fine with this?"
"Would I have kissed you back if I wasn't?"
"Just checking." He teases, then prods me in the stomach. "You've gained weight since last time."
"I was sick last time, remember?" I groan.
"Just teasing. Looks good on you. Not so scrawny."
My turn to pounce. "I'll give you scrawny, you Welsh sheep-shagger."
He blinks innocently. "But why would I be interested in sheep when I have this mad English dewin at hand?" For that insult I feel compelled to kiss him firmly.
It's amazing how far you can roll down a hillside as bumpy as a Welsh mountain when you're intent on doing something else.