[ It's an idle thing to say, nothing that really matters when his palm slips closer, thumb pressing into the little notch at the base of Ian's skull where it meets his spine. A warm pressure point for warm sentiments, watching the way Ian's eyes slip shut, and a tiny smile edges in as he tries on the best part of the day like soft, weathered jacket. ]
no subject
[ It's an idle thing to say, nothing that really matters when his palm slips closer, thumb pressing into the little notch at the base of Ian's skull where it meets his spine. A warm pressure point for warm sentiments, watching the way Ian's eyes slip shut, and a tiny smile edges in as he tries on the best part of the day like soft, weathered jacket. ]
Oh, no.
[ Flat, dry, toneless. ]
Anything but that.