#foxeywulf

She opens the box with a grin, and starts sorting through whatever was inside. "You have to promise not to laugh," she says seriously, before promptly placing a tiara on her head. It's almost comically small.

Valiantly, Scott does not laugh. "That's...something."

Rolling her eyes, she takes the tiara off and sets it on the bed. "You think that's something, wait 'til you see these." After making a big show of shuffling through the box, she pulls out a pair of shoes that manage to look intimidating despite apparently being about a size 3.

"You walked in those when you were 12?" he exclaims, grabbing them. "They must have seven inch heels."

"Four," she corrects, rolling her eyes.

"But you're so...." he pauses, eying her nervously. It's not that Kira isn't graceful, it's just that she's...

"Clumsy?" she asks, grinning.

He shrugs and nods in agreement. Her clumsiness is endearing, even if it does lead him to feel a little bit like he's being punked with this whole..."pageant" thing.

Grinning, she taps her lip. "Hold on, just a minute..." She hops off of the bed and disappears into her closet, this time shutting the door behind her.

He can hear shuffling inside, and the sound of her setting her phone on the floor.

Deciding not to question it and instead to snoop some more, Scott sorts through the box on his own. There was a picture of Kira, six years younger, in a pink dress wearing a sash that declared her the Princess of the Pageant. It was absolutely adorable. He set the picture down gently and pulled out the sash itself. It was small, like the shoes and tiara had been, but obviously good quality, not made of the same polyester they'd worn at graduation for being in the top 10 of their class.

Her dress is there as well, small, pink, and sparkly. When he sets it back down, his hands are covered in silver and pink glitter. "Yuck," he mutters, and looks at the picture of her again.

She looks angelic, even in her extreme youth (though maybe cherubic would have described her better back then). If they'd been friends back in the day, Scott probably would have thought she was the prettiest 12 year old he'd ever seen, even with her big false eyelashes.

The closet door opened and Kira stepped out in the dress she'd worn to prom. "I haven't worn heels this high in a while," she confesses, and then twirls. Her dress floats up, revealing--damn--five inch strappy heels.

He's on his feet before he realizes it, maybe a little anxious and ready to catch her should she stumble.

"I'm a little rusty," she confesses, though the twirl was executed perfectly and she doesn't even sway when she stops, facing him. She's smiling warmly, and even though she's not wearing the pageant makeup or the falsies, she looks stunning.

He turns back to the bed so he doesn't just gape at her for the rest of his life and grabs the tiny tiara. "Princess," he says solemnly, and carefully places the tiara on her gently bowed head.

With her heels, they're about the same height, so once he has the tiara in place, neither of them even have to stretch to lean into each other's space.

He's careful as he touches her waist, mindful of the fabric and how easily it could bunch. It's just a prom dress, he knows, but with her in the shoes and the tiara it feels like more, like something sacred. So he smooths his hand over the curve there gently, not catching the fabric at all. "You are the most beautiful person I've ever met," he murmurs, letting his other hand find hers and intwining their fingers.

She laughs a little and teases, "I forgot how pageantry always makes boys so flustered."

Eyes dropping to her mouth and hand still moving up and down the curve of her waist, he doesn't feel very flustered. He feels enraptured, sure, and definitely enamored. It's so easy to cross those last few inches between them and kiss her.

(He was wrong about the height. She's just a little taller than him in the heels, but he kind of likes leaning up to kiss. He catches more of her bottom lip this way, and it's oh so soft.)

Slowly, he leans back, letting their lips catch and drag. "Who's flustered?" He watches her drop her eyes and slide her hand over his chest to curl around his neck.

She doesn't look very flustered either. "If I'm the princess, what's the prize?"

He makes a big show of thinking about it. "Have you seen Ms. Congeniality? I think you should really be happy your tiara isn't a bomb."

"Knock on wood," Kira says, grinning at him.

"Hmm," he says, swaying gently toward her. He kisses her between each word as he speaks. "I'll be your prize."

She grins, easy, draws him close until their foreheads are touching. "And what does that entail?"

"Anything you want."

Her fingers curl through the hair at the base of his skull and massage his neck. "Anything?"

Scott grins. "Totally."

Laughing, she twirls out of his embrace. "Help me finish packing."