[ sheep ] continuations/overflow

[throughbamboo]

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[doggonemad]

[ he's up in an instant, on his knees and getting in his face. ]

Who's bein' coy? I'm just sayin' it can't be quantified. Maybe I feel like a teenager. Maybe I feel like a forty-somethin'. Who gives a shit?

[throughbamboo]

[well hi there. He snorts softly, lips twitching]

'M just sayin'. Ya usually give me the "who can say?" answer when yer bein' coy or cheeky.

1/2

[doggonemad]

Heh. Fer yer information, this whole shit today with Mr. Popular got me thinkin'.

[ lifts a hand, tapping at the side of his head. ]

What if I'd spun the bottle? If it'd landed on someone, I sure as shit woulda done it because I'm in it ta win it with these stupid-ass rituals. Except then, yanno, I thought, what the fuck. I'll kiss a fuckin' stranger with zero shame, but I got some kinda hang-up when it comes to my bro? The hell is that? S'bullshit is what it is.

So then I thought, well fuck. What's the difference? Why's my brain suddenly gotta shriek like a goddamn harpy when it means something, but give zero shits when it's bottle nonsense?

An' then I realized.

[doggonemad]

Just gotta fool it.

[ leans forward, slapping his hands down on his shoulders, and presses a kiss against his lips. ]

[throughbamboo]

[he's clearly not expecting it so enjoy the startled little noise he makes. Suddenly bro kiss??

His shoulders are tense, but he still lifts his hands like he's going to touch him - and then clenches his fists and drops them again]

[doggonemad]

[ pulls back after a moment. ]

. . . ain't my best, but fuck it. In it ta win it.

[throughbamboo]

[he leans a bit to follow, almost automatically, before he stops himself]

. . . it's ya tryin'. S'better than yer best.

[doggonemad]

[ keeps his hands on his shoulders. ]

Yeah?

[throughbamboo]

Yeah. Tryin' ta trick yer brain into lettin' ya kiss me? Maybe it's 'cuz I'm a sap for ya, but that means more ta me.

[doggonemad]

Didn't give me shit 'bout us sleepin' together. Figured it'd work, 'specially with the FOMO goin' on.

[throughbamboo]

FOMO?

[doggonemad]

Feelin' o' missin' out.

[throughbamboo]

FOMO 'bout kissin' me.

[he has the fondest look on his face]

[doggonemad]

Yeah??

[throughbamboo]

S'cute.

[and before he can protest it:] I'd feel the same way, seein' a bunch'a people kissin' you.

[doggonemad]

[ ugh. he'll allow it. ]

Right? Like, damn. That could be me.

[throughbamboo]

Heh, 'zactly that.

[his hands lift again - then pause, hovering for a moment before lifting to rest on Hannya's hands on his shoulders instead]

[doggonemad]

[ his eye follows his hands. ]

. . . yer good. I'm expectin' it.

[throughbamboo]

[he hums and squeezes his hands, then moves to slowly put his arms around him instead. It's a little stiff at first]

[doggonemad]

[ he doesn't seem as insanely tense as usual — probably since he took the lead and is, therefore, "winning." ]

[throughbamboo]

[they've done more touching in the last day or so than they have in decades aside from fighting]

[doggonemad]

[ it kind of rules. ]

. . . yeah. This is good.

[throughbamboo]

[it really does]

Mmm. S'real nice.

[doggonemad]

Heh. Damn right it is.

[throughbamboo]

Mhm, even nicer'n it used ta be.