[And he lingers there, breath slipping into his mouth and throat just as Chuck is breathing out, and he merely rolls his shoulders for comfort, eyes widening just slightly with the subconscious knowledge that he just swallowed something of his.
He wants to stay there, like that, for a while, watching the skin on the top of Chuck's cheeks flush, darkening the dust across his nose; the times and speed he blinks, and how his pupils suddenly widen just a little.
Mike could say that he knows Chuck's face like the back of his hand, but that would be a lie. He doesn't know the back of his hands as well: he never really looked at them closely, nor spent so much time watching them.
He tilts his head, watching him react to absolutely nothing, and everything caused by dead-on proximity, what it brings and what it takes away. Mike's trying to figure out his own reactions to that, but he doesn't stop looking, eyes drifting from the plane of his forehead to the grove of Chuck's chin, just below his lower lip.]
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He wants to stay there, like that, for a while, watching the skin on the top of Chuck's cheeks flush, darkening the dust across his nose; the times and speed he blinks, and how his pupils suddenly widen just a little.
Mike could say that he knows Chuck's face like the back of his hand, but that would be a lie. He doesn't know the back of his hands as well: he never really looked at them closely, nor spent so much time watching them.
He tilts his head, watching him react to absolutely nothing, and everything caused by dead-on proximity, what it brings and what it takes away. Mike's trying to figure out his own reactions to that, but he doesn't stop looking, eyes drifting from the plane of his forehead to the grove of Chuck's chin, just below his lower lip.]