[It's impossible not to reply back in the same way, in a light quirk of Mike's lips. It's almost empathic, the way they relate, the way they connect to most things, to each other. It's always been this way, ever since the first time they met, instantly clicking no matter their evident differences. His hand over Chuck's looks even darker against the paleness of his skin, and yet he finds he likes the sight of it.
It's as if he knows what Chuck is thinking. Which he doesn't, but once again, what they've wanted ends up crossing, over and over, braiding every now and then despite how far the tangent goes. He wraps his fingers over Chuck's wrist, pulls it gently, takes it to his own chest.
Mike has never been the type to think thoroughly: that was up to Chuck, most of the time. So he doesn't find it odd that he's doing something objectively random. He's just doing what his gut is telling him to and Mike really wants Chuck to touch him.]
no subject
It's as if he knows what Chuck is thinking. Which he doesn't, but once again, what they've wanted ends up crossing, over and over, braiding every now and then despite how far the tangent goes. He wraps his fingers over Chuck's wrist, pulls it gently, takes it to his own chest.
Mike has never been the type to think thoroughly: that was up to Chuck, most of the time. So he doesn't find it odd that he's doing something objectively random. He's just doing what his gut is telling him to and Mike really wants Chuck to touch him.]