#ler!uma

Only now, she's rather busy and she can't help but mind a lot.

“I told you I would get to you once I'm done with this letter. Does this letter look finished to you?”

“Dunno, can't read it.” Harry's head drops onto her shoulder and she doesn't turn hers to meet his gaze, but she can feel his eyes bore into her. “You've been writing this letter forever.”

“Hardly fifteen minutes.”

“Uhumaaa!”

Enough. She turns around in her chair to glare at him, making him squawk and stumble slightly from the sudden motion. “I'll get to you when I get to you, Harry. It's only gonna take longer the more you bother me in the meantime.”

Harry groans and flops back onto the carpet with his limbs sprawled out. There's something comforting about seeing that he kept his mannerisms from the Isle, how he treats this new home the exact same way like he used to treat their old one; a thick, expensive carpet in the principal's office of Auradon Prep is to Harry Hook no different than the old rug Uma had draped over her bed back at her mother's diner and called a blanket.

“The anticipation is killing me,” he grumbles. “Next time don't tell me you're gonna indulge me if it's gonna take you an eternity to do it.”

“You brought this upon yourself when you wouldn't leave me alone until I gave you a response.” Uma shakes her head with a sigh as she turns back to the desk to finish the letter. What a fool.

At least he's smart enough to leave her alone, finally. His moods make him impatient and annoying at times, but it's nothing they don't know how to deal with. And now that he mentioned it, she can't help but notice how the anticipation, indeed, seems to get to him. Every motion of hers makes him shift slightly on the floor, every pause she takes in her writing to think about her next words make him lift his head. It's endearing, really. And hilariously entertaining.

It's not her intention to make him suffer for longer than necessary, but she's still a VK at heart and she catches herself rethinking a sentence twice before writing it down and doing her absolute best to write extra beautifully. By the time she gets to her signature, Harry is practically vibrating on the carpet beside her.

“Are you getting impatient?” She grins at the blush spreading across his face and gets up from her chair to stretch her arms with a groan. “Shit, that really took forever. Sorry.”

He pouts up at her, only making her grin widen. She can see the gleam of eager excitement in his eyes; he's not fooling anyone. “You wanna do it on the carpet?” Before he can respond, she drops to her knees and quickly crawls on top of him to straddle his thighs, her hands resting just inches away from his sides. “So,” she drawls, enjoying the way his blush spreads, “how's the mood?”

“You know how the mood is.” His gaze flickers down to her hands and her grin morphs into a smirk.

“I want to hear it from you, Harry.”

“Bad.”

Uma clicks her tongue and even that little sound is enough to make him wince. Glorious. “And would you say waiting for me to get started makes it better or worse?”

By now, Harry's blush matches the red coat he carelessly draped over the couch a few feet away. “What do you think?”

“I think it's your fault we can't get started.” Uma runs her nail over his wrist, snickering at the visible shiver that sends down his spine. “How am I gonna get into the right mindset with all your best spots covered? Get those arms up for me, Hook.”

The slight tremble in his arms, the awkward twist of his wrists to grab onto the carpet, the nervous look in his eyes... glorious.

Slowly, Uma drags her nails down his arms, all the way from his wrists over the crooks to his biceps. She lingers there for a moment and grins at the way his muscles flex. “Hold still.”

“I'm trying.”

“I know you are.” She quickly moves her hands down to his underarms and then pulls them back with a reprimanding tutting when he reflexively pulls his arms down. “Do you expect me to work under such conditions?”

Alright, maybe she's being a little mean, but it's just so much fun.

From the top then; her nails positioned at his wrists, then slowly, sloooowly tracing his skin, feeling his shivers, his muscles tense, then she stops- “Are you sure you're ready?”

“Uma, please-”

“Okay, okay.” With a soft chuckle, she closes the gap and watches how he bursts into shrieking cackles immediately at her fingers making contact with the bare skin of his underarms. Brought this upon himself, really, with the way he insists on wearing sleeveless outfits–then again that might just be part of why he does it.

She clicks her tongue when his arms shoot down once again, but this time she doesn't let up.

“UHUMAHAHAH- FAHAHA-”

“I thought you wanted this.”

“IHIHI-”

“Just say stop and I'll stop.”

“IHIHI- NAHAHAH-”