[He closes his eyes on instinct when she puts their foreheads together, and feels more than a little silly that he freezes up rather than seizing the opportunity. She'd all but asked, brought up that he kissed her at the party, and-- Well, he can at least return it when she catches the corner of his mouth. His is a little less delicate, involves a bit more bonking of their noses, and has absolutely no consideration for his split lip, but the Some Kind Of Way he feels right now, he thinks he'd like to bleed on his own terms.] Performance anxiety. It'll fade. [He hopes.]
no subject