The mock dancing makes her laugh more, and secretly promise herself a day where she teaches him how to dance. Somewhere away from Camelot, with a green, dappled meadow and no one nearby to trouble them. But his question surprises her. He thinks he has to ask? Now, with her ensconced on his knee and their hands and arms entwined together?
It’s sweet, and just a little adorable. “Yes,” Summer murmurs, eyes holding her gentle laughter, “yes, of course you may.” She doesn’t wait to see how he takes her answer, though. Her eyelids lower, and she tips her face sideways just enough, mouth slightly open in anticipation, heart pounding.
Percival’s brow furrows as he begins to close the distance. Eyes closed, he can hear and feel Summer’s catching breath, smell her perfume, picture her face with its enormous green eyes and freckled nose and bright smile, full lips. A low hum escapes him and he’s smiling when their lips touch. Hers are softer than he could’ve ever imagined.
It’s the most amazing thing, how ununtterably sweet Percival is. Not just the way his mouth tastes, but the way he seems to see her as a precious thing, to be handled with care. How gentle his heart is, for a knight. There’s fierceness there, she’s seen it roused, but only ever at a wrong done to someone. She clings to his hands and kisses him and kisses him and /kisses/ him, with a slow, spreading warmth.