[ Come back to me in five years, Sam’d teased, however many months ago, when Kavinsky was getting a little too graphic with his bantering. Trying to find a nerve, Sam’d thought, and he still thinks that - though now he knows that he’s fronting, too, that he doesn’t want to admit that he’s into men.
For a good reason, and Sam’s back off a little on teasing him about that - but a only a little. He’s not interested in handling people with kid gloves, with tip-toeing around someone’s issues.
That’s always just made them feel like more of a freak, in his experience.
So he laughs at Kavinsky’s comment, the dream world around them shifting with Sam’s amusement - a wordless uh-huh, all me - form shifting, becoming less solid.
Less a physical place and more sensation, the smoothing of fingertips over skin, warm breeze tugging through hair. Teasing, taunting. ]
no subject
For a good reason, and Sam’s back off a little on teasing him about that - but a only a little. He’s not interested in handling people with kid gloves, with tip-toeing around someone’s issues.
That’s always just made them feel like more of a freak, in his experience.
So he laughs at Kavinsky’s comment, the dream world around them shifting with Sam’s amusement - a wordless uh-huh, all me - form shifting, becoming less solid.
Less a physical place and more sensation, the smoothing of fingertips over skin, warm breeze tugging through hair. Teasing, taunting. ]