Ugh, this was awful. There was no getting around it. Ford felt miserable. Macnair looked miserable. The only thing Ford wanted to do was kiss him again, to —
Oh, like that. Even though he’d been thinking it right before Macnair moved in Ford still let out a muffled noise of surprise before returning the kiss. It was too short, and when it ended there was something even more unexpected following it. Was — was he imagining that, or had Macnair gotten a little...?
Fuck, what were they doing? Ford was out of his depth here, and though he’d already known that he suddenly felt it even more keenly. Had he just made a huge mistake? Was he going to regret this after he left? He regretted it now, but it wasn't like he could walk it back. It wasn't as though this changed anything of consequence — if anything, it made it even worse.
It wasn't until Macnair said go that Ford realized how he'd been staring — gaping, really. He felt unsure about all of this, moreso now than he had a few minutes ago, and he didn't want to leave, but what was he going to do if he stayed? What was he going to say? Did you just—?
But if their places had been reversed, Ford knew the last thing he would want would be for someone (maybe someone he cared about, maybe someone who had just hurt him) to ask him about it. He couldn't do that to Macnair; it would add insult to injury to make him admit to it when he clearly hadn't wanted Ford to see. So he had to leave. There was nothing else to do.
"— yeah," he eventually said, cheeks flushing furiously. Not trusting himself to say more, Ford walked past Macnair and to the floo. He was in such a rush to leave, and so utterly distracted by Macnair's unexpected show of emotion, that he neglected to grab the bundle on the sofa — his pants from two days earlier.
Oh, like that. Even though he’d been thinking it right before Macnair moved in Ford still let out a muffled noise of surprise before returning the kiss. It was too short, and when it ended there was something even more unexpected following it. Was — was he imagining that, or had Macnair gotten a little...?
Fuck, what were they doing? Ford was out of his depth here, and though he’d already known that he suddenly felt it even more keenly. Had he just made a huge mistake? Was he going to regret this after he left? He regretted it now, but it wasn't like he could walk it back. It wasn't as though this changed anything of consequence — if anything, it made it even worse.
It wasn't until Macnair said go that Ford realized how he'd been staring — gaping, really. He felt unsure about all of this, moreso now than he had a few minutes ago, and he didn't want to leave, but what was he going to do if he stayed? What was he going to say? Did you just—?
But if their places had been reversed, Ford knew the last thing he would want would be for someone (maybe someone he cared about, maybe someone who had just hurt him) to ask him about it. He couldn't do that to Macnair; it would add insult to injury to make him admit to it when he clearly hadn't wanted Ford to see. So he had to leave. There was nothing else to do.
"— yeah," he eventually said, cheeks flushing furiously. Not trusting himself to say more, Ford walked past Macnair and to the floo. He was in such a rush to leave, and so utterly distracted by Macnair's unexpected show of emotion, that he neglected to grab the bundle on the sofa — his pants from two days earlier.
Set by Lady!