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It was a silly little idea, to be truthful.
You hadn't meant for him to take it seriously, but that may have been your first mistake. You knew he had a tendancy to confuse you being genuine with you joking, eyes studying your expression for some hint whenever you would say something he wasn't sure of. You hadn't, however, expected that he would stick to his interpretation this thoroughly, even when it became clear you weren't serious.
( Part of you almost thought it was spite- you could swear you gleamed it from the way he'd proudly planted his hands on his hips when he told you he'd go through with it anyway, no matter what you'd really meant. Despite the fact that, for a rare moment, his eyes were closed to further demonstrate his confidence, you'd still hid a grin behind one of your hands. Though, you were sure he could surmise your amusement from your tone when you'd hummed a little 'ah, I'm sure you will,' in response. That is, if the following 'Don't you laugh! I'm being serious!' was anything to go off of. )
It'd all started with you sitting by as Wally went about the motions of his morning routine- or, well, morning routine was something of a stretch. You loved him, no doubt about it, if you didn't you wouldn't spend so much time hanging around bickering with him. However, you also loved your own sanity, and waking up at the hours he did unfortunately went against that. Luckily, he'd eventually picked up some habit of inviting you over shortly after the time you usually got up for tea or coffee or some other drink he'd suddenly grown fascinated with before you both went about your days. While not entirely the same, it was a nice enough replacement, it gave you both a chance to see and talk to one another with some privacy.
You'd been at it again, sitting close by with some book you'd picked up because the cover had a pretty illustration of an orchard in some hilly, rich-green scenery taking up your attention. You could distantly pick out the clatter and shifting of things as Wally worked on the drinks. For someone who wasn't particularly crazy about the stuff, he'd always had some complicated methods of making coffee that you didn't quite understand. You'd shown off your much simpler, compact way of making it before, which only earned him half-heartedly shooing you off so he could do it his own way, huffing about how you were missing out on all the key steps. You didn't mind the wait, it was a bit of an added charm, a unique detail. And truthfully, it tasted better. You will not tell him this. He would never let you live it down.
( Darling as he may be, he still had some pride to him. )
"Dearest."
You'd hummed your acknowledgement, only tearing your attention fully away from the page about ... something, something, different kinds of fruit, something, something, identification of fruit-bearing trees. You'd found his attention turned in your direction, hands reaching up to the top shelf in one of Home's colorfully painted cabinets.
"Yeah?"
He'd continued staring at you for a brief moment before glancing back to the shelf, then looking back to you. It was a silent request that you understood loud and clear. Part of you wanted to wait a moment longer, see if he'd simply say it or if he'd die on this hill of 'I will not be giving you that satisfaction no matter how much my arms start cramping' silence. Another part of you could really use the coffee, if your reading was anything to go by.
Setting the hardcover aside on the armrest of the cruelly comfortable chair you'd been taking up, you'd made your way over. There wasn't any crazy height difference between the two of you, it wasn't as though you absolutely towered over him- no no, but there was enough of a gap where you could reach the things he couldn't with juust an annoyingly simple amount of ease.
"You know, you really should invest in heels, Hun. That way you wouldn't have to make your poor, dear partner do all the heavy work," you'd sighed in faux exhaustion, hand feeling around for a glass surface blindly.
"Maybe I will," he'd blankly returned, just as the tips of your fingers found the mug hiding near the back of the cabinet.
"You should. You'd look good. Maybe then you wouldn't have to ask me to lean down for a kiss," you'd teased, voice sickeningly sweet as you pulled away to place the cup on the counter, making way for him to work his magic.
He'd just kept his head held high, ever-present smile pulled just a touch wider in smug confidence, plan already forming in his mind.
"Maybe."
.
..
...
For all his confidence and sureness in his plot, he had failed to entirely realize this wasn't as cut and dry as asking for a favor and getting a 1-up over you. For all his boldness, he hadn't concerned the outcome of you hiding a snicker behind your hand as his own was stuck to the wall to keep himself up, ironically unconfident in his legs doing that.
"It's not funny, you know."
"You sure? I think it's just a little funny."
He frowned at that.
"C'mon, just a tad?"
With a heaved sigh, he attempted to straighten himself up, immediately regretting it when he started to stumble all over again. He swung too far back only to go careening forward in the process of rebalancing and to the floor- that is, if it hadn't been for gentle, firm hands catching him and pulling him back up instead. His own hands instinctively found your arms, scrambing to clutch onto you for support now that the wall was ways away. You were too busy looking down to make sure he was stood upright to notice the shift in his stare, still everfocused on taking you in.
Eventually, once you were sure he wouldn't lose balance and send you both to the hardwood floor, you looked back up to meet his gaze. Before you could make any comment on the wide-eyed, almost curious look he'd fixed you with he made his own.
"You look different from here."
There wasn't any real postive or negative meaning in his words, it was just an observation. Granted, from his sudden stillness you could surmise that it wasn't a change he disliked. You could feel his hands move from their place just below your shoulder to wrap his arms around your neck. Apparently, his discovery gave him enough confidence to lean back just enough to get a better look at you. Partly to stabalize him and partly out of your own, bubbling up affections, you wrapped your own arms around his waist.
"Yeah?"
He nodded, smile growing a tad wider, "Yes."
Unable to stay still, he shifted forward again to move one hand just above your shoulder while the other cupped the side of your face, "Do you remember that thing you said when you brought this up?"
"I said many things," you hummed.
Ignoring your weak, smart comment he leaned ever closer. You really only now processed the sudden change in your height difference, having to tilt your head up just a bit further to keep your eyes on him. You had to hope the lighting from his perspective covered up any redness in your face. Granted, the little twitch at the corner of his lips let you know he most assuredly felt the rising warmth of your face in his hand.
"I think you were right."
With one last little grin and half-lived, quiet chuckle on your part, he leaned in to place a kiss on your forehead.