Couture

There were women strutting along a catwalk on the television; there was snow floating down in the dark past the window.

"I must admit, it baffles me sometimes to realize that fashion is so pervasive in human culture it necessitates entirely different styles for the different seasons of the planet.  Then again, the fact that there are four discernable seasons that change based on the time of the year also remains a bit surprising."

"What baffles me is the fact that you prefer sitting on the floor when there's a large couch at your back."

"I am sitting on a cushion, if that helps to assuage your concerns for my comfort."

A hand came gently down on her head, idly stroking at her hair and horns.  "You are terribly unobservant, Kanaya."

"How's that?"

"Usually when your partner calls your attention to the fact that there is a piece of furniture—more than large enough to be shared—at your back, they're trying to solicit your joining them on said piece of furniture."

"Oh."  A pause.  "Is this currently one such instance?"

"Yes, and I'm almost offended by the fact that you're choosing to sit there atop your cushion on the floor as opposed to being next to me."

"I see."  She slipped an arm between the backs of Rose's legs and the couch, reaching up to rest her palm on one knee while leaning her head against the other.  "Perhaps some of my reasoning to sit here is because I rather like being near your legs."

"Are you trying to obfuscate the point with flattery?"

"If the subject is your legs, then I haven't even begun flattering."

"Oh?  Would you like to elaborate?"

"Of course."  She trailed her fingertips down the length of her calf.  "For starters, I'm intrigued by your choice of socks today."

"I can hardly be blamed for wearing something beneath my skirt.  It's quite cold."

"That is true.  But as I am acquainted with the entirety of your wardrobe—"

"Not at all disconcerting on your behalf."

"I know for a fact that you do not own a pair of socks emblazoned with a design of human leg bones.  This suggests that you purchased them recently."  She tapped the tops of her feet, touching each bone as she went back and forth.

"And if I claim there was no such purchase?"

"Then I must commend you on your knitting skills again and wonder aloud at the time it took you to complete such an intricate design."

"I'm afraid your flattery's focus has shifted from its original source.  Also, you're rambling."

"I'm sorry."  She cupped one ankle and stroked at the rise of the bone with her ring finger.  "I rather like sitting by your legs because they are quite shapely.  Were they not covered by these fanciful stockings, I would be able to report their smoothness and the suppleness of your skin.  It is a pity."

"And you haven't contemplated simply removing them?"

"I have, but I can tell that they're rather long."

"So?  It's hardly outside the level of propriety you and I are used to."

She smiled and lifted her hand to the back of her knee.  "Why, Rose.  Are you propositioning that I remove your stockings?"

A long stroke from horn tip to scalp; she rubbed her thumb back and forth at the horn's base beneath her hair.  "Oh, whatever you like.  I'm not too picky."

"I see."  She turned to kneel before her, lifting her right leg gently.  "I think I can help you choose firmly."  Her left hand held up her heel; the other she drew up following the line of her shin.  The long skirt was slipped beneath.  For a moment, she laid her hand atop her knee and brushed her fingertips back and forth.

"I seem to still be searching for the end of your stocking."

"Are you asking permission to reach further?  Because that's a rather peculiar thing to do, given what I just said about our general lack of modesty with each other."

Her hand had already quested forth.  "I was only making a note of it."  She found the edge of the stocking and ran her fingers over the junction between smooth fabric and soft thigh.  "I suspect these are quite cozy."

"You would be correct."

She brought her other hand up and settled both under her thigh.  Curling her fingers between sock and skin, she began to draw the sock down.  Back and forth, from top to bottom her hands slowly went, shifting the sock free in one place and then another until it was loosened from her thigh.  She released the sock entirely for a moment to fold back her skirt.  Her task was resumed, and when the sock was tugged down past her knee, she put one hand beneath her knee to lift up her leg.  Her free hand was given the task of pulling the sock off properly and setting it carefully aside.

She bent her head down to kiss her bare knee.  She spoke against her skin when she asked, "Perhaps you would let me borrow them at a later date?"

"That depends on what exactly you do next."

She lifted her head.  "And what are my options?"

"Either you take my other sock off the exact same way and then proceed to get the hell up here with me, or you sit back down and we keep watching this fashion show."

"But the second option sounds rather boring.  And I think it would prevent me from borrowing your socks, if I'm to understand the sarcasm I believe is present in your offering such a choice."

"You are learning."  A pause.  "Why is it that you want to borrow these socks?"

A smile.  Without breaking their gaze, she began to take off her other sock.  "In the hopes that you might take them off of me in the same manner."

"Get the hell up here with me."

"Yes, Rose dear."