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He knew the last of the students must have been seen off already, just by the sight of her. From behind he could take his time, his perusal more inquisitive than ogling - least that's what he told himself anyhow. Besides, there was a lot a body could tell about Dowling just by looking at her. Especially when she let her hair down. Literally.
Saul carried onward, moving toward her slower than he had been before. She was leaned up into one of the courtyard doorways, the massive glass and ironwork door cocked open by ninety degrees or so. Snow and sleet whipped around outside in riotous curlicues, the dark wind tossing around and battering at the glass. Seemed she was dry and comfortable enough, though, her entire body slanted into the doorframe.
The bulky sweater she wore mostly hid her arms and the way they were wrapped about her. He noted her fingers just barely showing from one wide cuff, rubbing the back of her left arm up and down as she watched the snow. Dark blonde hair was a wide wavy river of silk down her back, the creamy tan of the sweater making its highlights stand out. His fingers itched to touch the gilded strands and he flexed his hands closed tightly in response instead, wincing when he remembered the 'gift' he had tucked in one palm. It crunched slightly in his hand and he loosened his hold to try and save it.
Saul purposely sent his concern her way as he noted the uptick in the ferocity of the wind, knowing she would feel it. A sudden gust volleyed at the doors to underscore his worry, rocking them slightly on their hinges, rattling latches. He took the last five or six steps her way, watching her turn her head to the left, giving him full sight of her profile. Half her hair was still swept back off her face, all of it down her back. Her left hand rose in response to his silent worry and he watched her tap her painted fingernails against an obviously magical barrier, making it flutter lavender light. She'd made a shield in the doorway, keeping the weather at bay. He noticed then that the snow had started to clod up the bottom of the glittering translucence, creating a small bank, building fast. There was no way they'd make it out to Blackbridge now, not comfortably, safely. There had been a reason she'd begun evacuating the students two days before winter break was set to officially start.
"If you're heading to the cottage you should have left already." Her voice was clear, direct, very Headmistress-esque. He noted her own half frown as she realized it, too.
"Got Sky here. You and Ben too," he shrugged out, right hand rising to brush her back. Even as he made the movement he questioned it. The immediate wash of calm that got pushed his way in response was enough to let him know that she didn't mind and he needn't have cared. "No reason t'leave."
She nodded in acknowledgement but didn't move an inch. “You have everything you need?”
“Trying to get rid of me?”
“Not in the least, no,” she demanded, shaking her head as she swayed back. Her spine went up the doorframe so that she could face him, one hand rising to tap against his chest, just below the zipper on his collar. "I'm very glad you're here, Saul."
He was very glad to have caught her looking so casual, so free and comfortable. The sweater and leggings combination was just as enticing from the front. Especially when he visually traced the trail of her pendant down the front of her and then back up.
"I've somethin' for ya," he told her suddenly, remembering the half crushed twig in his left hand. The drying leaves had been sharp at his palm and he was careful to limit damage as much as he could as he lifted his hand and opened his fist for her. He watched her face as he continued, eyes on her mouth. "From Terra and Bloom. Thought they were quite hilarious when they asked me to give it to you."
A smirk twitched over her lips before she looked up and arched a brow, voice conspiratorial. "Incorrigible little shits."
An apt summation. That was precisely what they were, especially in regards to their favorite headmistress and her purposely private life.
"You adore them," Saul accused, watching her gently pluck the mistletoe sprig from the center of his palm.
"Truly," she agreed with a genuine smile, no embarrassment at the admission as she studied it. He wished the girls themselves could see the ferocity of love she had for them, even if they were mischievous plant thieves. Her eyes glittered up suddenly and he felt her mood turn teasing as she matched his grin. "Do you plan to use it?"
"Thought we could share it, really," he said with a tone that met her mood. He inched forward, felt her knee shift to the outside of his, bracketing him in closer in a way that had him grinning. Saul shrugged at her again, unsure what to do with his hands and tugging at one overly large sleeve of hers to cull his fidgeting. "It's such a thoughtful gift."
Farah exhaled, eyes still on his. "When did we last have Christmas together? Just us?"
"Been ages," he chuckled, head dipping nearer hers as he tried to count back the years. "When Sky was - "
"Nine. He was nine," she interjected with her own breathy laugh, head tipped but closer.
"Spent the whole holiday moonin' after Auntie Farah." He met her eyes briefly at the memories they shared, most prominently a sudden image of small Sky in their kitchen, at home, blushing furiously and with something hidden at his back. He knew it wasn't his own memory. It was hers and she was so sweetly sharing it with him. Saul felt his whole face flush with love for the both of them, his ears suddenly hot, his throat clenched up. He turned his face toward the battering snow and wished for some of its blessed coolness, any reprieve from his sudden flush of embarrassment. He wasn't likely to get it with Farah, though. She would delight in his blushing, long as she could. "He was mad in love with you then."
"Now he hates to be reminded of it," she whispered, sad reminiscence in her voice.
Saul chuffed up a half laugh and shrugged, still glancing out into the dark and snow. "Don't need the competition anyhow. Got plenty of men trippin' over themselves to pull out your chair at alumni banquets. And women too.”
She smiled indulgently at his grumping, lifting her head just enough to brush her nose against his cheek. It was a sweet nudge at him, an affectionate bid for more physical attention. Farah had a way of telling him to shut up without words. He complied, turning into the kiss she was offering with slow and intentional softness.
He brushed his lips along hers at first, hands lowering to catch into the bulk of her sweater and tug her in closer. By the time he nipped at her bottom lip he had her arched up his chest, a moan in her throat. Her empty hand caught his cheek as he curled her close and bless those meddling little fairies- mistletoe had been exactly the right gift, the sprig of it crushed into his chest. If her tongue in his mouth gave any indication as to her pleasure then it was the perfect present indeed.
Gift horses and all that, anyhow. He wasn't one to quibble, especially not when receiving something he had been aching after. Most especially not when she was teasing at his earlobe, rubbing it between fingers and thumb. Fuck, he hadn’t felt the heat of that affection in an age. She was so precarious and careful when their students surrounded them. Tasting the woman (not de facto mother) in her kiss was wondrous, addictive. It was sensual, and he couldn’t help the instant physical response it triggered in him.
Saul. Saul.
"Sorry, what?"
"Breathe," she laughed, mirth in her eyes and taunting from her lips as she stroked his cheek. Her fingers brushed along stubble and he swallowed down hard, purposely cuddling her closer now that she'd let him get an armful of her. He wasn't much inclined to let go right away. Especially with how nice it felt to have her thumb rubbing his cheekbone so charmingly.
"An excellent gift," she whispered, fingering the leaves as her other hand rested against his chest. "Terra will be impossible throughout dinner."
Which meant she’d be busy all evening. And any plans that he had considered making were to be, at the least, delayed.
"The Harveys for Christmas Eve, eh?" He did his best not to broadcast any of the disappointment that bloomed up in his chest. He knew his attempt at hiding it would be futile but that didn’t stop him. She’d feel it all, regardless. And instead of letting her also see it on his face he focused on the bold wave and round of one curl, lifting his hand to twist it around his finger as their breathing evened out, metered and matched.
He liked that she let him still hold her. It implied there was more to come than just a silly kiss spurred on by her sassy little fairies.
"What about the Silvas?" she asked, her tone already implying apology.
At least one Silva would wait up for her, long as she liked. "We'll expect you after."
Farah instantly shoved at his chest and he chuckled as she actually stomped a foot to the floor. "Come join us."
He bristled instantly, shaking his head even as he laughed quietly in response. She was cute when she told him what to do - it was perennially comforting and on brand for both of them.
"Naw, we’ve our own traditions," Saul countered quietly, still wearing half a smirk.
"I should go, then,” she told him as she pressed back from his chest. "I told Ben - "
He grabbed her up before she could get too far away from him, palms rising up to brace her in. One hand purposely slipped into her hair, enjoying the warm silken feel of it in his fingers as he kissed at her cheek, her jaw. He felt her moan as his hand slid down her throat, though, the hum and valve of it under his palm. She turned her mouth to his kiss so quick that his fingers curved her throat lightly, reflexively and protectively. Saul felt her lean in, her whole body cradling closer as his tongue teased hers. Farah never kissed him halfway, she never had. It was always with purpose, intent. It was always with a directness that gripped his lungs up.
She always managed to make him feel like his brain had melted into his shoes.
"Ben can wait," he groaned against her jaw as their kisses fell apart.
"I promised," she whispered.
She smirked up at him, sultry looking and lovely. Her lips were kissed full pink, cheeks slightly blushed too. One arched up brow told him that she was being amusedly patient with him but that he was about to lose whatever battle he'd set to wage.
"Go get Sky and clean up," she whispered, leaning forward enough to affectionately press her lips on his. It was chaste, but intimate, loving. "Come to dinner. I’m not facing a smug Terra Harvey on my own.”
He opened his mouth to argue against the intrusion and heard her fingers snap at his ear within the same instant. It was the only warning he had before a wall of cold and wet snow slapped hard into his back, instantly diffusing all the sweet warmth they had created between them.
She just barely managed to dance herself away from his attempt at retaliation and mostly because he let her. "Poor form, Dowling."
Farah laughed as she retreated, her hair loose and eyes flirtatious. It was all he wanted from the world - a happy and mischievous fairy, twisting mistletoe in her fingers, Christmas glitter in her eyes… “You needed to cool down, Headmaster."
A fine gift, indeed.