[isaac smiles, just for that second like peter's handed him the moon, and peter wants to hate himself for how that bright, fragile, precious thing squeezes right down into his soul, how the smile he returns is soft and crooked and probably goofy as hell, and involuntary as breathing. he could slam and bar the doors of his heart all he wants, it's too late now. the weight of isaac's head on his head is comfortable, the warmth of him against peter's side is welcome despite the heat of the day.
he pats isaac's leg again, squeezes his knee and shakes it lightly. doesn't let go quite yet.]
[action]
he pats isaac's leg again, squeezes his knee and shakes it lightly. doesn't let go quite yet.]
Maybe, yeah.