[So. As far as gestures of affection go, Fugo has done very in recent months in his self-appointed task of not being totally useless and overwhelmed even in the face of something he doesn't expect. He's very used to holding hands, sitting shoulder to shoulder, and even the way Giorno likes to either curl up as small as possible against his chest or wrap his arms around his shoulders and waist when they sleep in the same bed together.
He thought he was getting better about kisses. But, this--]
[The spot on the back of his hand where Giorno kissed him is very warm. Actually, so are his ears. And the rest of his face. Truth be told, Fugo's gone from pink around the edges back to red all over. All from a casual little kiss that Giorno was too impatient wait for his hand to fall away from his mouth to give him.]
I. Well.
[Fuck. What were they even talking about? The ... beach. And sunburns. Oh. Naps on the beach.]
The-- filling you made. It does taste like strawberries. It's very good.
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[So. As far as gestures of affection go, Fugo has done very in recent months in his self-appointed task of not being totally useless and overwhelmed even in the face of something he doesn't expect. He's very used to holding hands, sitting shoulder to shoulder, and even the way Giorno likes to either curl up as small as possible against his chest or wrap his arms around his shoulders and waist when they sleep in the same bed together.
He thought he was getting better about kisses. But, this--]
[The spot on the back of his hand where Giorno kissed him is very warm. Actually, so are his ears. And the rest of his face. Truth be told, Fugo's gone from pink around the edges back to red all over. All from a casual little kiss that Giorno was too impatient wait for his hand to fall away from his mouth to give him.]
I. Well.
[Fuck. What were they even talking about? The ... beach. And sunburns. Oh. Naps on the beach.]
The-- filling you made. It does taste like strawberries. It's very good.
[Goddamnit.]