“That’s not…” Cassian heard himself injecting too quickly, frustrated and wanting to pick apart Vincent’s logic. Though he caught himself right before diving in, first with the understanding that continuing to brood on this would do little to remedy the situation, and second with the knowledge that it would do nothing to help Vince feel more at ease in his own skin. So his words shuttered, expression kept impassive as they took a quiet moment to regard one another in the darkness. They spoke to each other silently in that moment, Cassian putting all his heart into imploring the Slytherin to understand things from his perspective. This is different, Vince. This does something.

And privately, Cassian was terrified of what it did.

When Vince finally ceded an apology, the blonde released a breath that he’d not realized he held in. This felt… good, like a step in the right direction, even if the description of himself as sultry caused a small grimace. He’d have picked a different word for it, unless maybe Vince knew the heart palpitation it gave him and that’s why he said it. “Thanks,” he mumbled, and turned his face into his knees. For a second - he didn’t want to burrow here like a turtle, but needed… just a quick recovery.

“No, just have your fill and leave the rest,” Cass reacted to the idea of getting on the bloody train tomorrow, already, with all this looming over their heads. It gave his voice a bit more anxious bite than he’d meant it to, he noticed it even as he said it. The blonde dropped his knees back into a cross legged position to give Vince an apologetic look. Warily, he looked down at the plate like it came with some kind of peace offering. He picked up a golden spoon and took an unwilling mouthful of chocolate pudding.

Focusing on the taste of chocolate was an act of self-preservation at this point, really. He decidedly ignored the pose Vince took stretched catlike against the pillows – not intentionally driving him mad, but terrifyingly effective at it all the same. And though Cass found himself reacting to things that were very normal (like Vince craning his head back in a gentle stretch), this was compounded by his uneasiness over how the Slytherin seemed to think this was a decadent joke.

They tried to make small talk about tomorrow. The things to do, the weather. By his fourth bite, the spoon finally dropped from Cassian’s hand with a clatter on the plate. He leveled Vince an inscrutable look, torn between feelings and action.

Finally, he picked action.

Cass moved to a swift stand, and set aside the plate on the bedside table. Reflexively, he slid onto the bed next to Vince and grasped his shoulder. In one gruffer-than-planned movement, he shoved him down into the pillows and held him there, hand pressed hard against his chest. As though peeking his head over a hole with a rattlesnake, Cass moved slowly to bring their eyes level, a few inches apart.

“You’re not going to try to be less sultry. There is no reason for you to act that way.” He wrestled to speak calmly and even-tempered. Blue eyes flicked to stare at Vince’s mouth, and the cut on his lip from earlier. “Certainly not in public. And in private… I don’t like surprises, really,” His fingers curled into Vince’s shirt, a touch menacing. “Maybe you like to be surprised like this?” he asked, airly. “I don’t think I do. So please… don’t suddenly… kiss me like you did when we were coming back here, or flirt with me to get what you want,” his voice grated slightly on the word. He was struggling with these blurred lines, between friendship and something else, and with what could happen when.

“Just ask for what you want, and wait for the response. Like… right now,” he eased his hand from its vice on his shirt; fingertips dared risk a gentle graze against Vince’s cheek. “I have healing salve for your lip in my pocket. And I want you to use it before you go to bed, but I want to kiss you before that. Is that… okay?”

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