[Joseph's laugh sends a prickle of fear down his spine, uncertain as he is just for a second whether he's being laughed at. But on second thought, that concern just seems stupid. If Joseph were going to make fun of him, he'd do it outright. And anyway — last time he was worried about that, Joseph just seemed hurt by the implication.]
[It's pretty clear a moment later, when Joseph just barely pulls away, that he's not being laughed at. He can feel his cheeks heating up under Joseph's touch, which is stupidly, almost ridiculously gentle. It's sweet and intimate, and he almost hates it because of how kind it is. That kindness throws him off-balance.]
[Not that he knew what he was doing anyway. It's easy when he initiates things, but that's not what this was. Just because he kissed Joseph first doesn't mean he actually started anything, and he definitely doesn't know how to proceed. He's acutely aware of the fact that he just kissed his best friend, who is very much not a girl, and even if he could make himself stop thinking about it, the way Joseph looks right now wouldn't let him forget.]
[He looks from Joseph's mouth to his eyes and then, all of a sudden, at the cabinet just past Joseph's head, which is fucking fascinating right now.]
You'd be pissed if I used a move like that.
[It's complaining just to complain. He feels wrong-footed, but he can't bring himself to move away, hands coming to rest and clinging to the fabric of Joseph's shirt.]
Mm, I should've . . . asked. [Or something? Help.]
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[It's pretty clear a moment later, when Joseph just barely pulls away, that he's not being laughed at. He can feel his cheeks heating up under Joseph's touch, which is stupidly, almost ridiculously gentle. It's sweet and intimate, and he almost hates it because of how kind it is. That kindness throws him off-balance.]
[Not that he knew what he was doing anyway. It's easy when he initiates things, but that's not what this was. Just because he kissed Joseph first doesn't mean he actually started anything, and he definitely doesn't know how to proceed. He's acutely aware of the fact that he just kissed his best friend, who is very much not a girl, and even if he could make himself stop thinking about it, the way Joseph looks right now wouldn't let him forget.]
[He looks from Joseph's mouth to his eyes and then, all of a sudden, at the cabinet just past Joseph's head, which is fucking fascinating right now.]
You'd be pissed if I used a move like that.
[It's complaining just to complain. He feels wrong-footed, but he can't bring himself to move away, hands coming to rest and clinging to the fabric of Joseph's shirt.]
Mm, I should've . . . asked. [Or something? Help.]