[The okay is more of a pause, because Koby is more than ready to launch into another lecture, this one about Fiyero’s infuriating grin and the faux-innocent look on his face and the way he sprawls in his chair like he hasn’t a care in the world and the way his hair flops into his face and – well, more things along those lines, but it all stutters to a screeching halt because suddenly those grinning lips are pressed to his own and it’s earnest and messy and sweet in a way that shoots right down Koby’s spine and makes him shiver visibly when Fiyero pulls away. Toes curling, face flushing, pulse racing, he stares for a long, long, wide-eyed moment, lips still parted slightly as Fiyero liltingly teases him, effortless, infuriating.
And then there’s a heavy stack of paper on the desk between them, and Koby blinks at that instead, because maybe that’ll make a little more sense than the most beautiful, desirable, effortlessly charming guy in school having just kissed him. It doesn’t, because it’s paper, and paper can’t account for itself. But it’s well-researched and properly documented paper – he can see that from a glance. It’s not the kind of paper a careless, thoughtless person would gather together.
Slowly, Koby reaches out, lifting the top couple pages and glancing over the citations and sources, then letting them slip back into place. He opens his mouth to – thank Fiyero or berate him further or something, but what comes out instead is soft and shy and unsure:] You – kissed me.
[Another blink, a hard swallow, then Koby’s looking up, meeting Fiyero’s eyes, without the slightest hint of defensiveness, without anything but vulnerability.] Why?
no subject
And then there’s a heavy stack of paper on the desk between them, and Koby blinks at that instead, because maybe that’ll make a little more sense than the most beautiful, desirable, effortlessly charming guy in school having just kissed him. It doesn’t, because it’s paper, and paper can’t account for itself. But it’s well-researched and properly documented paper – he can see that from a glance. It’s not the kind of paper a careless, thoughtless person would gather together.
Slowly, Koby reaches out, lifting the top couple pages and glancing over the citations and sources, then letting them slip back into place. He opens his mouth to – thank Fiyero or berate him further or something, but what comes out instead is soft and shy and unsure:] You – kissed me.
[Another blink, a hard swallow, then Koby’s looking up, meeting Fiyero’s eyes, without the slightest hint of defensiveness, without anything but vulnerability.] Why?