[Koby is always fighting a losing battle with himself, around Fearless -- resisting what he wants, resisting that bashful little smile, the sway of his shoulders, the way his taller form sways forward, closes the distance, until Koby can smell the sweat and cigarette smoke lingering on his clothes, his skin. It slips from the first second they're in the same space, effortless, easier than anything Koby's ever done in his life.
Even the stupid line -- so stupid, so, so stupid -- gets a momentary look of alarm, wide eyes flicking to Fearless's grinning mouth, then a gasp of realization and then, oh, then a laugh, because it's a terrible attempt, but Koby is exactly the right mix of young and enchanted and exasperated to laugh over it.]
That's -- terrible. [Laughing, still, hand dropping to rest on a broad shoulder.] Your poor lip. Do you want -- me to do something about it? [Just as terrible of an attempt, punctuated by Koby's blushing face and his grin and the helplessly fond look in his eyes.]
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Even the stupid line -- so stupid, so, so stupid -- gets a momentary look of alarm, wide eyes flicking to Fearless's grinning mouth, then a gasp of realization and then, oh, then a laugh, because it's a terrible attempt, but Koby is exactly the right mix of young and enchanted and exasperated to laugh over it.]
That's -- terrible. [Laughing, still, hand dropping to rest on a broad shoulder.] Your poor lip. Do you want -- me to do something about it? [Just as terrible of an attempt, punctuated by Koby's blushing face and his grin and the helplessly fond look in his eyes.]