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"Nice butt.”
Nino turns at his girlfriend's voice, careful not to lose his balance on the narrow steps.
“See something you like, Cesaire?” He asks, raising his eyebrows as he hoists the shopping bag up to sit on his hip.
Alya grins up at him from a few steps down. “Nothing.” She puts down her tote bag and leans against the handrail, eyeing him up and down deliberately. “Just enjoying the general view.”
A laugh breaks from Nino’s lips. “That so?” he asks, letting the grocery bag drop to his side with a rustle as he descends the stairs, stopping on the step right above her. Alya has to put her head all the way back as he leans over. His free hand grabs the rail for support, careful not to scratch her. “You know, come to think of it, I like this too,” Nino muses. “I’m taller than you.”
Her gasp is nothing short of scandalised. “We’re the same height!”
“Not right now we aren’t.”
The response is a punch to his stomach.
“Rude,” Alya pouts.
“Facts,” Nino grins, pushing her glasses back up her nose.
“I should just push you down the stairs.”
“Don’t do that.” He shakes their groceries. “Who will eat the red skittles?”
Alya looks up at him in fake consideration. “Alright, you can stay,” she rules. “In consideration of your sacrifices towards the greater good.” She crosses her arms. “But I’m still mad.”
“We can’t have that,” he says in a stern voice. “What now?”
“I don’t know,” she replies coyly, leaning into him. “It looks like you’ll have to find a way to make it up to me.”
“However shall I do that?” He cocks his head slightly, their faces close enough that he can feel her breath tingle on his lips.
Alya smiles, her gaze fixed on his mouth, “I’m sure you’ll think of something, Lahiffe.”
They move in tandem to close the remaining gap between them. Kissing Alya is like coming home, their lips falling into a familiar, pleasant rhythm. Her arms loop around his neck. Without breaking contact, Nino sets the bag down carefully and places his hand on her waist instead. His thumb draws playful circles into the wool of her sweater, on that spot just below her ribs that makes her squirm in his embrace and dig her fingers into his hair. Alya half pulls him down half pulls herself up to deepen the kiss. She almost knocks the cap off his head, its shield narrowly missing her forehead but she doesn’t seem to mind. Her appreciative hum prickles on his skin, resonating in his chest and sending vibrations down to his fingertips. The sweater bunches up in his grasp. Alya’s mouth fully opens against his and he responds in kind. He can feel her tongue trace the little scar on his lower lip from when they’d hung their shelves. She gives it an experimental nibble with her front teeth, oh so gently, and Nino feels his knees go weak. Luckily, he still has a hand clutching the handrail and manages to stumble against it without sending them both down the stairs. Unluckily, his feet hit something heavy and rustling in the process. There’s a loud thud, followed by several small ones.
“Babe, the oranges”, Alya whines against his lips.
“Dang the oranges,” Nino huffs. Secured by the handrail pressing into his hip, he dares to let go, sneaking his hands in the back pockets of Alya’s jeans and pulling her close. She giggles as her forehead almost knocks against his chin. Alya rises to her tip-toes, tilting up her face to press their lips together again. With the height difference from the stairs, she can only reach his bottom lip but that doesn’t stop her from pushing against him. Her body moulds against Nino’s, effectively pinning him against the rail. He can feel her warmth seep through his clothes and down into his bones. Nino bows his head so that their mouths align again. Alya’s lips are soft against his, languid in their motions. He can smell vanilla on her, most likely from the bath bomb he got for her birthday. His hand meanders up her back, gently stroking her hair. Alya smiles. Her grasp on his neck has loosened and her fingertips ghost down its sides, along his jaw until she’s cupping his face. One of her fingers traces the shape of his ear in a feather like touch. It tickles in a way that makes the hair at the nape of his neck stand up.
“We should get going,” Alya murmurs.
“Mhm.” Nino opens his eyes to hers, their faces so close they have to tilt their heads to avoid bumping noses. “Just let me enjoy the view a bit longer.”
She chuckles, pulling back to playfully nudge his hat back up his forehead. Her other hand is still cradling his cheek.
“Come on, you dork. I have ice cream in here.” She frowns. “Plus my legs are cramping up.”
Nino presses his lips to her forehead, right next to her birthmark. “I’m sorry, next time you get the high ground.” His hand takes hers that’s still on his cheek and he places another kiss on the pulse point of her wrist. “You go ahead. I’ll get the oranges.”