The last one. This is actually kind of sad. I really like these drabbles. It's been a fun adventure and I thank you all for taking it with me. I adore you all. And to those of you who took the time to review: you are my favorite people on this planet. Congratulations on your existence.

I own nothing.

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Denial

The stars shine brightly on the rooftops of London and the sweeps are a raucous bunch tonight. Mary simply can't help but laugh at their antics. And she can't take her eyes off of Bert. He shines in this sort of company; he's silly and charming, but never loses that hint of gentlemanly poise that gives her such confidence in him.

Earlier that day, one of her charges had asked if she was in love with him. Rather tactlessly, she might add. The small boy had asked her loudly if she loved the chimney sweep. Bert had been standing right there and his eyes had nearly popped out of his head, but he had stayed quiet, leaving her to fend for herself against the innocent question.

She had stuttered at the beginning of her answer. Well, she had been caught off guard!

"B-bert… Mr. Alfred and I are nothing more than dear friends," she had denied, regaining her footing in the conversation quickly. "I do love him as a friend, but we are not in love."

She had whisked the little boy away then, without so much as a glance at Bert. Her cheeks were burning and she couldn't even fathom looking at the sweep. Not because she was in love with him, of course, but because she was so embarrassed by her charge's behavior.

"Oy, Mary!" Bert calls. "C'mere!"

She looks up and glares. "I will not be summoned like some common wench, Herbert Alfred. Kindly remind yourself that I am a lady and will be treated as such."

He gives her such a confident grin that she's absolutely certain that he had been hoping for that exact reaction. "Miss Poppins," he rephrases with a laugh, "Darling, wonderful, lovely, Miss Poppins, would you do me th' absolute favor of blessin' me with your beautiful presence over 'ere by th' edge of th' roof?"

She straightens her spine and shakes out her hair as she stands. "While I certainly do not appreciate the lip, Mr. Alfred, flattery will get you everywhere. Now, what would you like?"

"C'mere!" he exclaims, gesturing at her to come even closer. As she does, he stands very, very close to her, pointing out towards the horizon, "Look."

He's pointing out at the way the light of the silvery moon glints and glimmers off the river, but she has to focus too much on keeping her breath even to truly enjoy the view. "Oh, Bert," she sighs. "It's beautiful."

"Not th' only beautiful thing up 'ere," he comments. She turns to look at him, nearly bumping her nose into his cheek because she's surprised him and moved before he can get out of the way. "What? I'm just sayin'. You're aesthetically pleasin'!"

"You just think you're oh so charming, don't you?" she accuses him.

"I'm 'oping one day t' get you t' fall madly in love with me. Then I'll drop th' charm."

She laughs. "I do so hope you have a backup plan."

"What, you don't think I can get you t' fall madly in love with me?" he asks. "That 'urts, Mary."

"I'm sorry," she says lightly. "But I just want you to be realistic."

"I've already got little Charlie there convinced," he retorts, bringing up the incident from earlier today.

She blushes profusely, but the dim lighting is enough to hide it. Her voice sounds much stronger than she feels. "Charlie is a young, impressionable boy who doesn't understand the complexities of adult relationships. It certainly isn't any sort of feat to convince him."

He grins easily in the face of her scorn, enjoying this conversation far more than she feels he has a right to. It's only because he's not taking it truly seriously. As far as he knows, it's just a game. "Alright, Mary. I'll let you live in denial a bit longer. But you just wait, Mary Poppins. One day, I'll 'ave you convinced that you love me nearly as much as I do you."

He quickly kisses her cheek and dances off across the roof. She raises her hand to her cheek, lightly tracing the spot where his lips had been only moments before.

And then his words replay in her mind. Has he just admitted to loving her?

She rather wishes she hadn't been so adamant in her denial.