[Choso scoops Natsume up just as he's starting to crumple a bit, so he happily sinks into the embrace, giggling a little at the kiss. It's a soft, smitten sound, hoarse like he still hasn't laughed often. Natsume sometimes thinks he could spend forever having one of his boyfriends make up for the lonely, sad years. He doesn't think he'll ever not want them to hold him, touch him, kiss him.
The fever has Natsume's emotions closer to the surface, and there are tears stinging his eyes as he shakes his head, reaching up to stroke Choso's hair from his face. The touch is gentle, protective. Like even though he's so much smaller, he'd still fight tooth and nail to protect the other.]
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The fever has Natsume's emotions closer to the surface, and there are tears stinging his eyes as he shakes his head, reaching up to stroke Choso's hair from his face. The touch is gentle, protective. Like even though he's so much smaller, he'd still fight tooth and nail to protect the other.]
No. Just you.