[The kiss and the hammy accent had soothed his nerves a bit, and he can't help smiling from it. A smile that soon fades as his shirt is being pulled up, and he has to look at the wall, wondering if this was a good idea. And when his chest is exposed and, by extension, the scar, and when the shirt pulling stops for a moment, he shuts his eyes and feels dread curl in his stomach.
Yeah, this was a bad idea. He can practically feel Allen's eyes on the scar, and he can just imagine the look on his face. Every pleasant sensation that had been building up starts to die down, and Clay starts to feel like he should probably pull his shirt down and make an excuse to leave. Bathroom break? A fake communication call?
Before he can do that, though, his shirt finishes being pulled up, though he doesn't really pay attention to that until he feels Allen's arms around his neck and his body being pressed up against him. He blinks out of his thoughts entirely, instead looking ahead with wide eyes as Allen says what he has to say, which... has nothing at all to do with the scar.
... What?
His hands hover in place on either side of Allen as if he isn't sure what to do next. Every single outcome he imagined had ended horribly; sure, Clay doesn't know what the scar is, doesn't remember it or anything, but Allen being into medicine would probably know, and... the conclusion he might draw - Clay was sure, so sure that it'd only end badly.
But it didn't. Not even a bit. In fact, Allen made a joke about it. He had to have noticed, he noticed him pause and everything, and yet... And the way he was hugging him, like he was trying to calm him down more than anything...
Finally, Clay shuts his eyes and lifts his arms to return that embrace, head ducking down to press his face to the junction of Allen's neck and shoulder. It's such a huge weight off his shoulders that he doesn't even know what to do with it except to just hold on tight. How did it turn out this way? Not just the situation, but - meeting this guy and getting to be the way they are now? Maybe it really was written in the stars, like he'd said on their first date.
He still isn't really sure what to do with himself, but he does finally quirk his lips up in a smile.]
Not a drunken one, and not on my chest, no.
[He briefly opens his eyes in contemplation, then shuts them again as a hand lifts from Allen's back, and - there's a sound like tape peeling off, a light little jerk of his head -
And when he pulls back, he keeps his head down, but... the bandage on his nose is off, showing the scar he'd received a decade ago that he always hides. It's okay now. With Allen, at least, it's fine. And he's never been more sure of that.]
action;
Yeah, this was a bad idea. He can practically feel Allen's eyes on the scar, and he can just imagine the look on his face. Every pleasant sensation that had been building up starts to die down, and Clay starts to feel like he should probably pull his shirt down and make an excuse to leave. Bathroom break? A fake communication call?
Before he can do that, though, his shirt finishes being pulled up, though he doesn't really pay attention to that until he feels Allen's arms around his neck and his body being pressed up against him. He blinks out of his thoughts entirely, instead looking ahead with wide eyes as Allen says what he has to say, which... has nothing at all to do with the scar.
... What?
His hands hover in place on either side of Allen as if he isn't sure what to do next. Every single outcome he imagined had ended horribly; sure, Clay doesn't know what the scar is, doesn't remember it or anything, but Allen being into medicine would probably know, and... the conclusion he might draw - Clay was sure, so sure that it'd only end badly.
But it didn't. Not even a bit. In fact, Allen made a joke about it. He had to have noticed, he noticed him pause and everything, and yet... And the way he was hugging him, like he was trying to calm him down more than anything...
Finally, Clay shuts his eyes and lifts his arms to return that embrace, head ducking down to press his face to the junction of Allen's neck and shoulder. It's such a huge weight off his shoulders that he doesn't even know what to do with it except to just hold on tight. How did it turn out this way? Not just the situation, but - meeting this guy and getting to be the way they are now? Maybe it really was written in the stars, like he'd said on their first date.
He still isn't really sure what to do with himself, but he does finally quirk his lips up in a smile.]
Not a drunken one, and not on my chest, no.
[He briefly opens his eyes in contemplation, then shuts them again as a hand lifts from Allen's back, and - there's a sound like tape peeling off, a light little jerk of his head -
And when he pulls back, he keeps his head down, but... the bandage on his nose is off, showing the scar he'd received a decade ago that he always hides. It's okay now. With Allen, at least, it's fine. And he's never been more sure of that.]
But I've got a couple here and there.