There's always some variation on this. Like flirtation, if they didn't both know where it was going to go already. Easy banter that sounds and feels the same after all these years, no matter how different the words might be. Who might give in first. Who's going to take the first, familiar step.

If it even is a first step, now, or if it's just a continuation, something that they both know and expect and might not be the best part of being together, but is absolutely right up there. "Isn't it always?"

Teasing, because he's the one who owes her, because his tally is yards long and hers, if not squeaky clean, can't even be a fraction of it. If either of them is paying anything, it ought to be him, but her mind's not on that, not now, when the door's opening and they're headed into the cool open living room, door still closing behind her by the time she's stepped smoothly up close, arms reaching to circle his neck like they have a thousand times before. Smile all promises and warmth, when she's looking up into his eyes and lifting up onto her toes. "But you know..." Considering. As if it might be a brand-new idea. Something unexpected, instead of the next known and familiar step. "I think I've got just the thing to offer."

Spoken a breath closer, eyes dropping to his mouth before her hand slides into his hair, fingers gentle and comfortable, and she reaches up. Smells sweat, salt, the sunshine on his skin, feeling the old familiar ripples, the echos of the butterflies she used to get, when this was new, when he was unreachable but still let her reach for him, when she went to sleep dreaming about those blue eyes and the boyish smile that appeared all too rarely.

Her own tugging her lips into a curve, the fingers threading in his hair, curving around the back of his head to pull him down for a kiss.