The island is almost unbearably hot, and Jessica isn't sure how Angelo can stand it in the heavy layers of his Templar's uniform. Actually, she isn't sure he can stand it; since they left the ship, he's gone from complaining to silence, and now that they've stopped to rest beside a tree-covered hillock he's sprawled in the thin shadows with a decided lack of his usual dignity, his face flushed and his hair plastered down with sweat.
He, of course, is too stubborn to so much as remove his gloves, and she's very tempted to upend one of their water bottles over him.
Luckily, there are other ways to get him out of his uniform.
She settles beside him, propped on one elbow, and uses the other hand to comb damp hair back from his eyes. None of the others are paying attention to them; King Trode is in the wagon, Eight's scowling at the map, and Yangus, judging from the proto-snores, is nearly asleep. With a little smile, she leans down and kisses Angelo's lips.
Considering how exhausted he looks, his response is gratifying.
"It appears we'll be resting here for a while," she says when they part. Her hand runs down his chest, stops just above his belt, while her eyes study the pronounced curve of the mound of dirt rising nearby.
Angelo's gaze follows hers. "We wouldn't have to go far to be out of sight."
"True." She has to hide a smile. "But I really don't want to waste time peeling you once we're there."
The gloves and jacket are off before she finishes speaking.
Written for 101 Kisses. Theme: #12 - Impossible, Stubborn; #86 - Heat Wave
