( Ian, on the other hand, does demonstrate a little reluctance. His lips tuck into his cheek and his expression turns self-aware, a little self-mockery somehow written in the edges. Yeah, he knows it's stupid. He knows Nate knows he knows it's stupid. He reaches back, because he was never not going to, he's just bracing himself for the inevitable embarrassment.
Talk about being afraid of being known. To Nate that means his personal history, to Ian that means giving up what's actually going on under the surface he tries to project. Namely, the stupid flush of gentle pleasure he's got buzzing in him over I like who you are right now, too.
Just two idiots glowing blue in a salt mine — a not entirely fabricated salt mine, at least.
Anyway, it's worth it — as Nate can surely feel radiating off him — to slightly embarrass himself for the opportunity to thread their fingers together.
To gently lighten the tone, he offers: )
Would it help if I showed you a really embarrassing memory of my tween years to make it even?
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Talk about being afraid of being known. To Nate that means his personal history, to Ian that means giving up what's actually going on under the surface he tries to project. Namely, the stupid flush of gentle pleasure he's got buzzing in him over I like who you are right now, too.
Just two idiots glowing blue in a salt mine — a not entirely fabricated salt mine, at least.
Anyway, it's worth it — as Nate can surely feel radiating off him — to slightly embarrass himself for the opportunity to thread their fingers together.
To gently lighten the tone, he offers: )
Would it help if I showed you a really embarrassing memory of my tween years to make it even?