"Start what?" Harry laughed, holding his hands up defensively. "I mean... you are," he half-mumbled, his smile going crooked in that way it tends to do when he's smitten or amused. Even the hair ruffle's inspiring a dopey look. It may seem small or idle to Peter, but to Harry, even the littlest shows of affection are new and wonderful. "What look is that?" he asked. Genuinely and perfectly oblivious to his continued looks of wonder and adoration.
Left to fill in the blanks for himself, Harry's mind - of course - wandered back to the shower whether that was the correct implication or not. His face probably invented a new shade of red in the process. A faux indignant "Shut up--" was the only thing Harry could think to say.
Sunday dinners? A tradition of theirs? Harry tilted his head, smiling in marvel. Again. "Really?" ...A beat, and Harry realized he should know that; he was being too open with his astonishment and surprise. He immediately jumped to correct himself. "I mean-- yeah, no. I just thought--" Quick, come up with an excuse! Harry scratched the side of his face. "Maybe you two had some other plans on top of that? Y'know, kick me to the curb for an evening for you guys to have some quality aunt-nephew time." They'll be even with all of the looks of awe Harry keeps giving in return. I wish, he started to say before clamping down on his lip to stop himself. He remembered nothing, unfortunately. "You'd be surprised. I did ask for a reminder earlier," he answered, injecting an edge of teasing into his tone. It was the truth, though.
The kiss sent goosebumps rippling up his arms and Harry found himself sinking back against Peter some. He couldn't help it. Peter's arms wrapped around his waist, his warm lips against his skin-- Harry practically melted. "Really? Your favorite, too? --How come?" He had a feeling Peter's reasons were different than his, after all.
He absentmindedly brought a hand up to Peter's head, fingers twining in his tousled hair when he pressed closer. His eyes fluttered shut at the kiss, unable to stop a happy little sigh from escaping his lips. "Pretty sure that's impossible," he answered honestly. "You're in a league of your own, Pete."
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Left to fill in the blanks for himself, Harry's mind - of course - wandered back to the shower whether that was the correct implication or not. His face probably invented a new shade of red in the process. A faux indignant "Shut up--" was the only thing Harry could think to say.
Sunday dinners? A tradition of theirs? Harry tilted his head, smiling in marvel. Again. "Really?" ...A beat, and Harry realized he should know that; he was being too open with his astonishment and surprise. He immediately jumped to correct himself. "I mean-- yeah, no. I just thought--" Quick, come up with an excuse! Harry scratched the side of his face. "Maybe you two had some other plans on top of that? Y'know, kick me to the curb for an evening for you guys to have some quality aunt-nephew time." They'll be even with all of the looks of awe Harry keeps giving in return. I wish, he started to say before clamping down on his lip to stop himself. He remembered nothing, unfortunately. "You'd be surprised. I did ask for a reminder earlier," he answered, injecting an edge of teasing into his tone. It was the truth, though.
The kiss sent goosebumps rippling up his arms and Harry found himself sinking back against Peter some. He couldn't help it. Peter's arms wrapped around his waist, his warm lips against his skin-- Harry practically melted. "Really? Your favorite, too? --How come?" He had a feeling Peter's reasons were different than his, after all.
He absentmindedly brought a hand up to Peter's head, fingers twining in his tousled hair when he pressed closer. His eyes fluttered shut at the kiss, unable to stop a happy little sigh from escaping his lips. "Pretty sure that's impossible," he answered honestly. "You're in a league of your own, Pete."