#shameless flirting on Kee's behalf

[marigoldvance]

Halloweening - Kíli

PART 2/3

You aren’t surprised when Kíli manages to convince you to help him put together a Halloween celebration worthy of a group of Sesame Street enthusiasts. He’s practically on his knees, hands twisted together in a manner not unlike his daughter’s when she pulled out the wet pleading. 

He is definitely the one responsible for Maeven’s fast and loose use of her puppydog eyes, the scoundrel. 

How could you forget all the trouble Kíli managed to blink and mop and mow and just be dashing his way out of throughout school?! The man was an artist then and has only grown craftier, a genius who uses his adult-mask to hide that fact that he isn’t above employing playground tactics to get what he wants. 

And you are naught but a victim of this well-honed skill.  

                "C’mon,” Kíli begged, thick brows pinched above his nose; his warm eyes, that you knew would be matched in intensity if you chanced a look down to his hip, were glassy with despair. “Please. I’m begging you. It would mean the world!” 

You snapped your head down, chin to your chest, eyes fixed on your bare toes to try and evade the gut-clenching reaction to Kíli’s expression. Honestly, it felt like watching those late night SPCA commercials and you were already one trembling mange-puppy away from adopting, that’s how thin your resolve was by then. 

                 “Kíli — ” 

As you spoke, you trailed your gaze back up, following the line of Kíli’s admittedly very fit body from socked feet to knees to dangling pipe-cleaner legs in navy blue and olive green polkadot, up the frilly off-white pinafore and around the large, well-worked hands under wiry arms bent like a steeple in front of a Muppet body, all with a sense of trepidation and impending damnation.  

The violent shattering of your will power wasn’t as painful as you’d imagined under Maeven’s pitiful, dramatic pout.  

                “Pleeeaaase?” The little creature in Kíli’s hands wobbled (for effect, as you were aware).

The entire class behind her chorused, beseeching, “Pleeeaaase?” 

Your eyes narrowed into unimpressed slits, cheeks puffed out with the air you had to drawn in to give yourself strength, when you met Kíli’s eyes above Maeven’s head. He grinned, all goofy, his stupid face aggravatingly adorable and hot as sin all at once. 

Defeated you may have been but you weren’t going down without some negotiation. Smoothing out your frustration, you looked at Maeven and smiled, your voice a calm breeze as you said, “Alright, sweetheart, I’ll help.” 

Kíli bent forward to gently set Maeven on her feet, pleased with himself. Maeven squealed in victory and clapped her hands, her classmates cheering behind her though you weren’t sure if they really understood what they’d won. They scattered, skipping either to their cubbies or to the projects they’d been working on before Maeven rallied them. By then, more parents were filing in to collect their children, nodding at you in greeting but diverting to discuss the day with your colleague when they saw that you were busy with Kíli. 

                “Alright, Mr. Durin,” You said, crossing your arms and jutting your hip out to impress upon Kíli that you weren’t going to be messed with. “I need money for supplies, access to all the rooms of your house—” 

                “My hou—” 

                “Yes, your house,” You interrupted, “Where did you imagine this was going to happen? Here? No. The school is closed weekends and Halloween is tomorrow so you’d better make sure you hide anything you don’t want played with by tomorrow afternoon.” You let one brow rise in challenge. You were met with none, so you continued listing your demands, “And you’re going to assist me in putting this whole thing together since you were generous enough to spoil your daughter rotten. I mean, seriously Kíli, do you know how to say no?” 

                “Do you?” He counters. 

                “When the occasion calls for it, you can be sure I do.” 

                “Right.” Kíli scoffed playfully, twinkling at you, “So a five-year-old demanding your time and energy to pull of a last-minute evening of activities for all of her classmates wasn’t the occasion?” 

                “Uh—” 

Kíli shrugged, voice still light and teasing, “Maybe my girl’s just talented then. We should see how she does in politics.”

                 “Oh God, she’d take over the world.” You gasped and you weren’t sure if it was as mocking as you meant it to be.  

Your breath leaves you completely when you look at Kíli and see him biting his lower lip, stifling a laugh with his head cocked to the side, watching you as if you’re the best thing since the invention Netflix Kids.  

                “Yeah, with the right support, she probably would.” He agrees.

And that’s how you find yourself here, unloading the backseat of your car with Kíli’s help after a full morning of darting from one end of town to the other, pillaging every party and children’s store in the area of their Halloween paraphernalia and swiping the credit card Kíli gave you with gusto. And if you went to Lush and bought yourself a few colorful bath bombs, who was he to say anything? 

Consider it compensation. After all, it isn’t as if you didn’t have to rearrange your whole schedule to accommodate Kíli’s favor. Which it is. A favor. As in he owes you so hard for this. Saturdays are usually for coffee and some project-planning at Rosie’s café til noon, and then a visit to your dad’s where you tend the vegetable garden and try some of his newest tea fusions. It’s simple but it’s enjoyable and you like the routine.  

Your dad was very understanding and you know Rosie isn’t exactly expecting you but, still, it’s the principle of the thing and Kíli just traipses in like he did back in Secondary and gets his way because. Because what? Because he’s dreamy as fuck, that’s what.  

Prick.

              “Everything alright?” Kíli asks, leaning over the open car door that you’re ducked into, and have been hovering in for probably longer than it takes to reach in and grab a bag of party supplies.  

              “Fine. yeah, thanks.” You say as mildly as you can. You pull yourself out, bag in hand, and turn to step away from the door. Hard heat meets your back barely a step after, sending tingles up the length of your spine and through your chest. “Oh!”

A large hand cups your hip gently, hot, damp breath puffs against the back of your neck and the sensitive shell of your ear, tickling the short, downy hairs at your nape and raising goosebumps. 

              “I’ll take that,” Kíli says in a low, gravelly tone that brings a blush to your cheeks.

               “Sure.”  

              “Is there much more?” 

              “Just one more bag.” You utter in something a fraction louder than a whisper.

He inhales, nose lightly brushing the skin behind your ear, before he removes himself from your personal space. 

              “See you inside then.”

Oh, sweet Peter and Jemima.  

🎃 

You’ve had the pleasure of knowing Kíli for most of your life. Dale is big but it isn’t a sprawling metropolis; everybody pretty much knows everybody, if not familiarly then, at the very least, by six degrees of separation. 

Back in high school you - and the majority of the student body (and, if rumors were true, some of the staff) - harbored quite the crush on Kíli. He was funny and reckless and intelligent; generous with his laughter and kind to everyone, even the dickheads who made fun of him for being flamboyant when he elected to take Drama. 

Not much about him has changed, his personality just as enormous now as it was then, filling all the empty spaces in a room as soon as he walks in.

You know his ex, Maeven’s mother, the same way: She and Kíli were high school sweethearts who split amicably four years ago. They’re both completely and utterly devoted to their daughter even though they maintain separate lives, Maeven’s mother now remarried and pregnant with her husband’s first child. 

It startled you to find out that Kíli remembered you, by name, when he first dropped Maeven off at daycare. Everyone knew Kíli, sure, but hardly anyone from school outside of your group of friends remembered who you were unless they were reminded.  

(It also startled you speechless to find out that he’s still every bit as gorgeous as he had been in school; more so, in fact. Time had been nothing but kind to Kíli. Taller, broader, more rugged; a head of chestnut hair that rivals an Herbal Essences model and a stubbly jaw that you want to feel pressed in every crevice of your body, holy hell—)  

He blatantly flirted, you stuttered. You spoke briefly, mostly about Maeven and what Kíli could expect from her lessons; how Kíli could continue to help her when she was staying with him, all the regular things parents speak to teachers about.  

However, one day, the conversation stopped being entirely about Maeven and started dipping into other topics: What you studied in uni, why you decided to become a daycare worker instead of pursuing something more lucrative, whether or not you were attached and why. 

The conversations were nice, a welcome break from having to simplify every thought and explanation to its barest state. Within two weeks it was obvious to everyone that Kíli sought you out when he came to collect Maeven (sadly, it wasn’t as often as you’d have liked, as Maeven spent more time at her mother’s) but no one seemed curious about it.  

You aren’t naïve, you know the man is flirting with you ninety percent of the time he’s around but you can’t seem to make yourself trust that it’s anything more than casual, friendly, just for funsies. The boy you knew in school was also a shameless flirt - Christ, he had all the mums wrapped 'round his little finger - and you don’t know the man well enough to say that he’s changed and that the attention he gives you implies anything serious.

Of course, you’re feeling pretty damn inclined to ask since Kíli’s body keeps finding an excuse to press up against yours while you decorate his sitting room, his hand always landing on your hip as if magnetized. It’s strange how easily you respond to the intimate touch, as if you’ve shared that sort of closeness forever. 

            “What time did you say everyone arrives?” Kíli asks, stretching above you to attach the Happy Halloween sign across the window, caging you between the bulk of his chest and the wall, his muscles rippling along your back as he works.  

            “‘Round five. Your ex said she’d drop Maeven off a little earlier, though.” You twist around, pushing him back an inch or so to give yourself some room to breathe. His presence is stifling and not because you’re feeling suffocated.  

            “Plenty of time then.” He grins, a lopsided, boyish thing that turns your knees to mush.  

            “Plenty of time for?”

He lets the question hang between you for a moment before taking another step away. His biceps bunch as he lifts his hands and declares, “To hide all of these.” referring to the box of Halloween-sized chocolates he’d picked up off the couch where you’d tossed it earlier when unloading. 

            “Right.” You choke, “Yes. Plenty of time.”

Kíli winks and reverses out of the room, chuckling as he turns on his heel in the hallway and disappears behind the wall on his way to the kitchen. 

You’re beginning to question what your motivations really were when you agreed to help pull this off. If you’re actually annoyed about having had to go through the effort of rearranging your weekend. If it even matters to you that Kíli deliberately used his daughter to manipulate the shit out of you as a means to get you involved so he wouldn’t have to do any all the work alone. If it was even Maeven and her weaponized puppydog eyes that convinced you agree. 

It wasn’t, in case you’re wondering. 

🎃 

ONE ׀ THREE

AO3