Chapter Text
Anne
Hours. Their confrontation had lasted literal. Hours, and yet they still hadn’t determined a winner.
It wasn’t like Anne hadn’t given it one hundred percent after Marcy’s brief interruption. She’d torn into Sasha with all that she could muster, giving as good as she got as they rolled across the floor of the thankfully spacious tent. They’d traded positions countless times in their struggle, grappling with arms and legs as she did her best to remain on top and maintain the optimal angle for kissing the daylights out of her opponent.
By the end, her lips were sore, and bruised, and she probably had splinters from the times their battle had taken them across the broken remains of Sasha’s table. But Sasha still hadn’t given up!
Admittedly, Anne had been well aware that victory would not be coming swiftly in their little competition. She knew Sasha, and she knew how prideful her friend could be. Little Miss Perfect didn’t seem to understand the concept of surrender. That didn’t mean she’d expected it to go on this long!
Despite her rather understandable distraction at the time, Anne estimated that their duel had gone on for roughly two hours. Not counting the break they’d taken halfway through to catch their breath, where Sasha had laughed off her very reasonable request that she surrender, responding with her own completely unacceptable demand of the same. All delivered in between panting gasps for breath, since they’d just spent a probably unhealthy amount of time locked at the lips and breathing only through their noses, with only the shortest separations to taunt one another and steal a wisp of oxygen before they inevitably went back at it.
Was it normal to kiss that long, even in the regular, non-combative way? She didn’t think so.
When they’d finally agreed on a temporary truce after hours of inconclusive battling failed to make Sasha relent, the first thing on Anne’s mind was finding Marcy to explain the situation. Well, that, and an overwhelming sense of frustration and annoyance that Sasha still had the energy to boast that she’d win next time.
Of course, Anne hadn’t been willing to let such a patently ridiculous statement go unchallenged, and the resulting lively debate had almost boiled over into another round before she managed to tear her eyes away from Sasha’s challenging gaze and towards the tent’s entrance.
(Not before promising herself that she’d crush Sasha the next chance she got).
And so, knowing that they couldn’t put it off any longer, Anne had dragged an irritated Sasha along to Marcy’s tent.
“What’s she doing here?” a blue-skinned newt guard in full cloak and armor had questioned, blocking their path. Because one of the faces of the toad rebellion marching into the Newtopian section of the encampment clearly wasn't going to go unchallenged.
“She’s with me. We have something to discuss with Master Marcy at her tent,” Anne had replied in an official tone that was still foreign to her, and that had been all it took. Because Marcy was important enough to the newts that a simple namedrop carried a lot of authority, and while she was still adjusting to her friend’s newfound rank, she couldn’t deny how useful that was. Not to mention really cool.
Marcy was in her tent, something Anne had admittedly been worried about when they’d approached the large, cloth structure, and she’d realized that Marcy could’ve chosen literally any spot in the camp to hide after she’d fled in terror from Sasha’s tent.
Thank Frog for small conveniences.
The ravenhead had been at her desk when she’d called out for them to enter, a pen in her hand, and her journal closed in front of her. Anne couldn’t comprehend how she’d found the time for research after the shock she’d had. At least she seemed to have recovered somewhat from walking in on them. Shortly after their arrival, she’d stood up to better face them, and they’d all remained standing while Anne stumbled through her attempt to explain just what Marcy had seen in a way that wouldn’t result in her dying of terminal embarrassment.
“What you saw back there, Marsh… It was a competition. A contest. We got into an argument, and we, uh… well, I know this sounds really weird, but we decided to settle things by… kissing… each... other...” Anne trailed off, well aware of how absurd the whole thing sounded out loud.
A full minute passed in silence. Anne waited for Marcy’s response, growing increasingly fidgety as the other girl stared at them with owl-wide eyes and red cheeks. She didn’t dare look at Sasha, not when she was half the reason for the current awkwardness.
“So… are you… together?” Marcy finally asked, blush intensifying as she wrung her hands in front of her.
Anne opened her mouth to answer, closed it again. She… actually didn’t know. She turned to Sasha.
“...Nah,” The blonde shrugged after a moment, somehow managing a lazy smirk despite the current atmosphere. “We aren’t dating or anything. I was just trying to show Anne who’s boss. Not my fault she’s so stubborn.”
“What,” Anne said. “Okay, listen-” she took a step towards the blonde. “I don’t know what you’re playing at, but if anyone is gonna get shown who’s the boss around here, it’s gonna be you-”
“Please don’t make out in my tent,” Marcy requested, and Anne’s ears burned.
“I-I wasn’t, I wasn’t going to-” Anne spluttered, because she definitely had more self-control than what Marcy was implying.
“You see what I have to deal with?” Sasha said, not helping the situation at all. “She tries to jump me every chance she gets. It’s kinda cute, if I’m being honest. Still, I don’t have the spare time to humor her trying to make out with me constantly. I actually have important things to do.”
“Like what? Sitting around in your tent?” Anne scoffed. “You weren’t exactly doing a whole lot last time I checked.”
“Whatever.” Sasha rolled her eyes, apparently deciding to just ignore that she’d been caught in a total lie. The jerk. “The point is… maybe you can help us deal with this whole... situation?”
Well. Anne would be lying if she said she wasn’t caught off guard by that.
Marcy
“What?” Marcy said, sounding meek even to her own ears.
“What?” Anne echoed, so at least Marcy knew she wasn’t involved in whatever new scheme Sasha had concocted.
“What?” Sasha said back, for a much different reason than either of them. “It makes sense. Anne is too much of a stubborn, little brat to ever give up, even when she’s outmatched. And, I think we all know she’s never gonna beat me the normal way.” As if anything about a kiss-fight could be considered normal. “I mean, not to kiss-and-tell, but she’s like, all enthusiasm, no skill. It’s embarrassing. Honestly, you’d think she’d at least practice on a pillow or something so she wouldn’t be slobbering all over my-”
“Okay, that’s enough,” Anne interrupted tersely, much to Marcy's silent gratitude. Her cheeks were flushed red. “What exactly are you getting at here?”
She had an idea of what Sasha might be talking about, but just the thought of it made her face heat up. Marcy stayed quiet, waiting for the blonde herself to reveal her plan just in case she was wrong…
“It’s simple, really.” Sasha continued with a flap of her wrist, which was something she said about most of her ideas. Usually the ones that turned out to be anything but simple. “You aren’t gonna give up, and I’m not going to let you win, so we can let Marcy decide… she can judge our skills for us, and then we can finally confirm once and for all that I’m better than you.”
“What?!” Anne’s eyes practically bulged out of her head.
Marcy could relate, but she restrained herself, the sheer surrealness of the situation somehow working to curtail any potential panic attack. Instead, she decided the best thing to do was to continue asking questions, as any good scholar would when faced with the unusual.
“Kiss-uh, I mean… kissing skills?” she asked, stomach twisting at the idea. Not in a good way, or even a bad way. Just… twisting.
“Uh, yeah.” Sasha rolled her eyes again. “It’s perfect! It’ll help me and Anne resolve our little dispute way faster than if I just let her gnaw on my lips for a week until she gives up. Then we can go back to being regular, happy friends again.” She sauntered forward, until she was close enough that Marcy could reach out and touch her if she wanted to, and was it getting warmer inside the tent or was it just her? “You want that… don’t you, Marcy?”
She did want that. But was she okay with doing... this? It was… pretty weird.
It was just-friends didn’t do that… right? But, Anne and Sasha were friends. Great friends! And she could personally attest that they’d kissed each other… very passionately, in fact. If they could do that with their friend, and she was their friend…
But maybe it was a tier-based thing? Like, Anne and Sasha were friends long before she’d joined them, so maybe it was fine and normal for them, but if she did it, it would be weird? But Sasha seemed perfectly fine with kissing her, so maybe not. Why couldn’t there be some sort of guide for stuff like this? Etiquette and Rules for Platonically Kissing Your Friends...
“Why don’t you lay off?” Anne interjected, “she doesn’t have to do this if she doesn’t want to.”
Did that mean that Anne wanted to do it? Or that she didn’t? Marcy didn’t have long to ponder that question because Sasha was leaning in, and suddenly all she could focus on was lips. Red and puffy, and curled into a predatory smirk.
Marcy’s face burned, and yet strangely enough, the idea of what they were about to do wasn’t entirely unwelcome.
...It would be nice to help her friends get along again, and she’d always wanted to know what it was like to kiss someone, just for the novelty, and she had more justifications, but that all went out the window because Sasha’s right hand was on her face, thumb brushing over her cheek like they’d done this a million times before, and suddenly Marcy had an answer to her first question.
Vibrant, blue eyes stared into her own pair, silently asking, almost demanding permission. Marcy stared back, trying to convey her answer without any humiliating words...
And then Sasha’s lips were on hers, hard, and Marcy now also knew what it was like to kiss someone.
It was amazing. And terrifying. But that second part might’ve just been Sasha.
She was a gazelle at the mercy of a lion, playing with it’s food as it closed in for the kill. She was a prisoner, helpless and chained and desperate while her captor took her sweet time with the most pleasant torture she’d ever experienced. Sasha’s lips on hers were a declaration of ownership, like the most intense drug trip the human brain could ever hope to know.
...Not that she’d ever taken drugs to know what that was like, but Marcy reasoned it couldn’t be all that different seeing how the chemical responsible for pleasure responses, dopamine, actually had a lot in common with most forms of drug highs...
...Maybe Sasha wasn’t the best representative sample for a normal kiss. There was no way any regular person could make it feel this good on the first try.
The hand that was on her cheek slid back until it was tangled in her hair, and Marcy shivered at the possessive grip. She had to crane her neck back to accommodate Sasha’s height as the blonde leaned down, sighing near-silently against burning-hot lips at how small she felt.
(A part of her wanted to examine just why those two things were so appealing to her; the rest of her was too busy shrieking in mindless glee to care).
She felt the urge to stick her leg up in the air, like they always did in the movies. She resisted it. Knowing her, she’d somehow manage to trip and completely ruin this moment…
Anne
Her first instinct was to march forward and pry Sasha off of Marcy, because what the heck, Sash? She couldn’t just do that, Marcy was too sensitive, she couldn’t handle Sasha like Anne had learned to, especially not when the blonde was grabbing her by the hair- okay, she was stopping this right now.
She took a step forward, and at that moment she noticed Marcy’s reaction. And stopped, dead in her tracks.
Her genius friend wrapped her arms around Sasha, standing up on her toes to meet the kiss. As Sasha pulled her in by her hair with one hand, Marcy released a helpless whimper.
Anne’s face suddenly felt uncomfortably warm. She fisted her skirt in her hands, and watched.
Just as suddenly as she’d started the kiss, Sasha pulled away, releasing Marcy and taking a step back. Her cheeks held a slight blush, but her smirk was wide as she turned her gaze to Anne.
Blinking dazedly, Marcy swayed for a moment, seemingly having forgotten how to stand in the face of Sasha’s aggressive energy. Anne could relate.
“Enjoy the show?” Sasha asked.
Yes. “No.” Anne swallowed heavily. “You shouldn’t have done that. Without asking her, I mean.”
"What for? It’s not like she didn’t want it.”
“You didn’t know that,” Anne insisted, because it was the right thing to say.
“It’s okay,” Marcy murmured, shaking her head as if to clear it, “I… I didn’t mind.”
“See?” Sasha grinned the smuggest of grins. “Now… wanna try and beat that?”
It was impossible to miss the unspoken you can’t. Anne frowned, but moved towards Marcy determinedly. “Only if she wants to.”
“Oh, she’ll want to. She might regret it though, once you start drooling on her…”
Anne ignored the barb, focusing on Marcy in front of her. “Are you really okay with this?” she asked softly. She could practically hear Sasha rolling her eyes behind her. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to-”
“Yes!” Marcy squeaked, hands curled into fists by her sides. “I mean, yes… please. I want to.”
Wow. That was ridiculously cute.
“Okay.” Anne nodded at that, bringing a hand around to gently cup the back of Marcy’s neck. She wanted this to be as nice as possible for her friend.
She looked into Marcy’s eyes for any sign that this was unwanted. She found none. In fact, she found the opposite.
Slowly, she drew Marcy towards her...
Marcy
It was so firm, yet also gentle. Soft, but so very passionate. Marcy had never felt so safe in her entire life.
A hand pressed into the small of her back, pulling her in as though Anne was trying to get her as close as possible. The other was at the back of her neck, rubbing soothingly, holding her into the kiss. It was just as claiming as Sasha’s had been, but in a sweet, protective way. Just as overwhelming, just as amazing. She wrapped her arms loosely around Anne’s frame, craving that feeling of connection, of being grounded.
It was apparent now that Sasha hadn’t been entirely truthful about Anne’s supposed lack of skill.
If Sasha was a predator, with Marcy as her prey, then Anne was a guardian, keeping her shielded from all harm.
...Maybe she’d been wrong about Sasha being an outlier in terms of kissing ability. Or maybe Marcy had a hidden talent for finding friends who just happened to be fantastic kissers. She’d always known her friends were special, but this...
Marcy released a sigh against Anne’s lips, a feeling of pure contentment washing over her.
Finally, regrettably, Anne pulled away. But unlike Sasha, she didn’t let go. If anything, her arms tightened their hold, as she stared into Marcy’s eyes with unyielding warmth. Marcy stared back, lost in the intimacy of the moment…
Sasha
They were just… looking at each other.
The kiss was over, and Sasha was ready to celebrate the announcement of her victory, but they still hadn’t let each other go. They just sort of… swayed together. Like the world’s laziest ballroom dance. It was nauseating. Why would they even-
In a flash of outrage, Sasha realized what Anne was doing.
“Okay, that’s enough! Stop cheating already!”
Anne looked over her shoulder at her, confusion and annoyance fighting for space in her expression. “What are you talking about?” Marcy blinked rapidly, like her mind had been released from some sort of spell. Anne’s spell.
“Don’t play dumb with me, Boonchuy!” No way was Sasha letting her get away with this blatant injustice. “You’re trying to suck up to Marcy by cuddling her like some helpless, little puppy. This is a kissing contest, not a hugging contest. Stop holding her like that!”
“Seriously?” The cheater had the audacity to sound incredulous. “I’m not cheating just because I know how to treat a lady. It’s called having class, Sash. Maybe give it a try sometime?”
“That’s rich coming from the girl who runs around with one shoe.” Sasha retorted. “Let. Her. Go.”
“Fiiiine.” Anne rolled her eyes, releasing their friend. Unlike with Sasha, Marcy didn’t stumble at all. Good.
“Okay, so… who won?” Sasha inquired. “I mean, I know it was me, but could you hurry up and let Anne down gently already? The quicker it’s done, the quicker Anne can start repairing her shattered self-esteem.”
“Really, Sash?” Anne gave her a dirty look. She ignored it, focused solely on Marcy.
A few moments passed in silence, as Marcy seemed to process her question. “I, uh, I mean, well…” The shorter girl’s face grew redder with each stuttered word, until her face held a striking resemblance to a tomato. “I… don’t know?” She said, making it sound almost like a question.
What.
“What?” Anne voiced for the both of them.
“I don’t know,” Marcy repeated, actually seeming to gain confidence from Anne’s confusion. “I mean, I can’t really make an accurate comparison with such limited data. I-I need a larger sample size before I can make a well-informed decision. One just isn’t enough… to determine a winner, I mean.”
Okay. Fine. Sasha could work with that.
“Alright then,” Sasha said. She stepped past Anne, who evidently was still working through Marcy’s words judging by the dumb look on her face, and into Marcy’s personal space once more.
She grinned down at the shorter girl, relishing the way she cowered ever so slightly. “C’mon then. Let me show you why Anne is nothing compared to me.” She didn’t wait for a response. She seized Marcy’s right hand in her own, lacing her left arm around the shorter girl’s back and pulling her close. Then, she slammed her lips into Marcy’s, dipping her back until Sasha’s arm was the only thing keeping her from falling to the ground. If that didn’t prove how much better she was than Anne, she didn’t know what would!
(This was a very classy move. Anne didn’t know what she was talking about, like always).
The kiss lasted over a minute, until Sasha was sure she’d stolen Marcy’s breath away. Only then did she pull her up, releasing her to gasp for air as she turned to Anne to inform her opponent of the hopelessness of her situation. “You still sure you can beat that? You should just give up now and stop wasting all of our time.”
Anne’s eyes narrowed…
Marcy
She barely had a moment to recover from Sasha’s aggressive onslaught before she found herself in Anne’s arms once more. Anne paused for just a moment, to brush a lock of hair out of Marcy’s face, before she was leaning in again…
Just as sweet-soft as before. Just as amazing. Just as good as Sasha’s. Again.
This state of affairs would be fine, were it not for the fact that Marcy had not managed to catch a decent breath of air before being pulled into the kiss and her lungs were starting to burn. That was a slight problem.
Marcy felt a grip on her arm, and then she was being yanked away from Anne, and suddenly she was in Sasha’s arms instead. The blonde’s lips were moving as she looked off to the side, and Marcy could only assume that she was directing some sort of snarky comment or taunt at Anne, but her brain was just a little too fried to be able to do something like comprehend english at that moment, and what little capacity it had left was focused on directing her respiratory system to gather as much oxygen as possible before Sasha’s lips were planted on hers yet again. And those lips didn’t let up until she felt lightheaded and her lungs burned. Again.
This cycle occurred a few more times. If Marcy’s calculations were correct, the exact number was somewhere between 3 and a million. Between the constant, head-spinning back and forth of hard and soft, kind and possessive, and how she was pretty sure her brain was suffering oxygen-deprivation, her mind was just a little bit too hazy to be sure.
She’d run the math later, if she even remembered any of this.
Vaguely, Marcy became aware that the kisses had stopped at some point, and that she was being asked a question. She should… probably get on that.
Sasha
“Yo, Marcy… you there? Huh, looks like she’s broken. Guess I was just too much for her,” Sasha observed, letting herself gloat a little over her handiwork.
Disheveled hair, vacant eyes, swaying like she could fall over at any second… yeah, Marcy was pretty messed up. Not that there was any other outcome when Sasha applied all of her talent like that. She really should’ve seen this coming. She was just too good...
“How do you know it wasn’t me who broke her?” Anne said, as she crossed her arms, chipping at Sasha’s good mood like she always managed to these days.
Sasha rolled her eyes, making sure Anne could see it. “Oh, please. Like you’d ever be able to-”
“I’m here! I’m fine!” Marcy shouted suddenly, finally waking up from her daze. She blinked, eyes regaining a hint of her usual spark. “...What was the question?”
Not enough, apparently.
“Good, you’re back.” They could get right down to business. “You got plenty of samples, so who won? Not that it should be much of a decision at this point…” That got another dirty look from Anne. It was the look of an about-to-be loser, so Sasha didn’t pay it any mind.
Marcy blinked. And blinked again. Nothing.
Just as Sasha was starting to feel the irritation that came with having to repeat herself, Marcy jumped slightly, like she’d been caught dozing off. “Oh, that! I, ummm, well…” her words turned to mumbles, and now Sasha was feeling the irritation of needing to tell someone to speak up.
“What was that, Marbles?” Surprisingly, that came from Anne. Sasha wasn’t sure why she was so eager to find out how badly she’d been crushed. Unless she somehow thought that she’d won….
While Sasha pondered Anne’s delusions, Marcy finally seemed to find her voice.
“I…” the little genius was quiet as a mouse. “...I don’t know who won.”
And Sasha’s ponderings ceased.
“What?!” Again, Anne was the first to speak up. Clearly, she was more invested in this contest than she’d let on.
“What is that supposed to mean?!” Sasha contributed, not willing to be outdone, even in outrage. Marcy couldn’t just-she couldn’t just do that after all the effort she’d put in-she was supposed to win! She deserved it! Sasha Waybright did not settle for second place, and she did not do ties.
“I don’t know who won,” Marcy said again, louder, as though they simply hadn’t heard her right the first time, “I mean-there’s just so many variables to consider! So many factors that are entirely subjective! Working out the science behind it and coming to a proper conclusion could take days, or weeks, or-”
Sasha groaned, officially fed up with this. “This isn’t going to solve anything! I don’t care about science, I just want to prove that I’m a better kisser than her!” She jabbed a thumb at Anne, who looked at least as aggravated as Sasha herself was. “How am I supposed to prove I’m better than Ms. Cuddles over here if you can’t even make a judgement call on a couple of lousy kisses?!”
“I-guys, I’m sure we can figure something out, it’ll just take time-”
“Wait, hold on,” Anne said, taking a step closer to Sasha with a furrowed brow, “what does Ms. Cuddles mean? Just because I actually know how to be sweet and caring? Give me a break.”
“Guys, please-”
“It means that you know you can’t kiss as good as me, so you try to make up for it with gross, huggy-wuggy stuff. It’s a crutch.” A pathetic one at that.
Sasha took a step of her own. She could already sense where this was leading, and her heart started to beat faster in anticipation.
Some part of her, deep within, was aware that getting into this right now, in front of Marcy, and in Marcy’s own tent of all places, was probably not the greatest idea in the world. This part of her was promptly told to shut up and mind it’s own business, because she wanted this, and no one got to tell Sasha what to do.
“First of all, being nice is not a crutch! It’s important! And second of all, I can kiss way better than you.” Another step. “At least I actually know how to make my kissing partner feel good. You just slam your lips into their lips and hope for the best. It’s not hot, it’s just sad.”
Well. Sasha couldn’t take that lying down. “Oh, you’ll be real sad when I’m done with you-”
“Oh, yeah? Bring it!”
With one last step from each of them, Sasha was nose to nose with Anne, looking down into her friend/rival’s glaring eyes with a smirk. She was ready to tackle Anne to the ground right then and there and continue this the old-fashioned way… or at least, the slightly-older-fashioned way, since this whole competition had only started a month ago. Whatever. She was ready for it. She was going to show Anne who’s boss once and for all, no matter how long it took her to get the message...
Marcy
Marcy sighed.
It looked like her friends were going to be busy for a while. They were completely dead to the world except for each other, and from the looks of things they’d soon escalate to what she’d seen walking into Sasha’s tent. Stubborn and competitive as they both were, she doubted she stood any chance of stopping them at this point.
Hopefully they wouldn’t break any of her furniture.
She grabbed her journal off her desk, deciding that it was best to vacate the area before they started locking lips. Marcy already had the perfect shady tree picked out in her mind for her to sit under and document everything that had just happened. In excruciating detail.
All for science, of course. She’d already written about what she witnessed at Sasha’s tent before they’d come calling to explain it themselves. This entire experience had been a great learning moment for a topic she hadn’t really known much about. The fact that she’d gotten some first-hand practice on the subject was an added bonus. Now was the time to compile all she’d discovered in her journal for future reference…
Who knew when she might need that information again? Knowledge never hurt anything.
Slipping out of the tent while Anne and Sasha were distracted, Marcy had the presence of mind to flag down a passing newt. She would be at the tree if anyone needed her. No one was to enter her tent for any reason until she specified otherwise. Spread the word.
The last thing she wanted to have to do was explain why Anne and Grime’s lieutenant were found making out in her tent. She doubted they wanted to either.
They’d appreciate her discretion, once they were done with each other.
(The newt guard, being a good soldier who followed orders without question, did not ask if Master Marcy’s request had anything to do with the several, shouting voices he’d heard within the tent. He simply nodded his obedience, then marched off in a very professional manner to pass along her command/gossip about it with his fellow guards. Juicy rumors were a much-valued currency amongst soldiers, and he knew his comrades would be eager to theorize on what exactly was going on with the Chief Ranger and her fellow humans).
Anne
In the back of her mind, Anne registered that Marcy had left the tent, and that she should probably stop what was happening, follow after her, and apologize for forcing her to flee her own living space to avoid the imminent continuation of her unconventional feud with their mutual friend. However, as terrible as she knew it was, comforting her friend was no longer at the top of her list of priorities. That position had been taken by the overwhelming need to wipe the growing smirk off of Sasha’s stupid, smug, beautiful face.
She frowned at that last thought, and that, combined with the sudden recollection of Marcy’s first question from earlier, enabled her to take a step back from her blonde rival to ask a question of her own. She fought back the urge to laugh at the affronted look on Sasha’s face.
“What are we?” she asked, letting her tongue run over her lips to wet them.
Sasha’s brow crinkled, frustration in her eyes at the delay. “What?”
“What are we… to each other?” She needed to know, before they continued. Not that she was sure there was any answer that would keep her from jumping the other girl in a minute.
“We’re friends, obviously.” Sasha rolled her eyes.
“Friends don’t normally kiss each other like we do.” Anne pointed out.
“Best friends, then,” Sasha amended, a strangely tender look in her eyes that made Anne’s heart twist… “even if you are a stubborn, little idiot.” It felt like some clever joke between them, amplified by Sasha’s grin.
Anne grinned back, letting herself be drawn into it. “The very best,” she agreed… “even if you are an annoying control freak.”
A flash of heat entered Sasha’s eyes at that. They grinned at each other, until Sasha reached out to take Anne’s hand in her own, tugging lightly. “C’mere,” she murmured, “I’m not done with you, yet.” Anne resisted, purely because she could, and also because the little frown Sasha made at her refusal was adorable.
“Nuh uh,” Anne said back, “you come over here. This isn’t over until you give up and say that I’m better.”
“Never gonna happen,” Sasha shot back.
“Wanna bet?”
They matched challenging gazes, and Anne couldn’t tell who moved first, but then they were both leaning into each other, pressing smile against smile in a sort of quasi-kiss. They giggled into each other’s mouths at how ridiculous they were, and then Sasha was pulling her closer by her shirt, and Anne’s hand was tangling in luscious, blonde hair, and the kiss turned very real.
Then, Sasha’s perfect, white teeth nipped sharply at her bottom lip, and well, Anne couldn’t very well ignore such an obvious challenge, now could she? They tumbled to the floor in a sprawl of limbs, already grappling for position before they’d even fully landed…
And their feud continued.