He probably shouldn’t have asked that question, joking or not. What could Lestrange say to turn him down nicely? What was he going to do, actually start calling him Cash? Why had he said anything at all? Theo couldn’t decide whether he just wasn’t thinking or he was thinking too much, and since he didn’t know how to clear his head he dropped his gaze and busied himself with cleaning up his hand instead.
Only if you want to, Lestrange said, and Theo looked up again. It sounded more abashed than he’d expected, and his cheeks were a little flushed, but he also looked pleasantly mussed - and in a better way than only being windswept, he thought, and he might have just kept looking for a while, but Cash was leaning in. With a pleased hum at the kiss, he tilted his head back a little to say yes, good, don’t stop yet and curled his arms around him again, one settling across the seeker’s shoulders and the other at the small of his back.
He could have gotten away with leaving it there, probably, said nothing else in answer and absently allowed his fingers to trace over skin until they both forgot they’d ever mentioned it, but - then Lestrange would probably never call him Theo again.
And beneath the danger and discomfort and the protests of his better judgement, there was a flutter of something else. And he had asked, so it would be stupid to take it back now. “Yeah, I want to,” Theo said quietly; and it was almost easier to admit to over his shoulder, like when they weren’t looking directly at each other it did not have to feel so much like something. “But I, ah - wouldn’t want to overstep. You know, professionally,” he added lightly, and his mouth twitched up at the last bit, tongue firmly in his cheek, “Cash.”
Because if he was ignoring everything else, there was something at least a little bit funny about this. (To be honest, though, if he was at all worried about overstepping, it had nothing to do with the professional boundaries he was transgressing, and more that Theo thought he - might possibly like Cash Lestrange more than he should.)
Only if you want to, Lestrange said, and Theo looked up again. It sounded more abashed than he’d expected, and his cheeks were a little flushed, but he also looked pleasantly mussed - and in a better way than only being windswept, he thought, and he might have just kept looking for a while, but Cash was leaning in. With a pleased hum at the kiss, he tilted his head back a little to say yes, good, don’t stop yet and curled his arms around him again, one settling across the seeker’s shoulders and the other at the small of his back.
He could have gotten away with leaving it there, probably, said nothing else in answer and absently allowed his fingers to trace over skin until they both forgot they’d ever mentioned it, but - then Lestrange would probably never call him Theo again.
And beneath the danger and discomfort and the protests of his better judgement, there was a flutter of something else. And he had asked, so it would be stupid to take it back now. “Yeah, I want to,” Theo said quietly; and it was almost easier to admit to over his shoulder, like when they weren’t looking directly at each other it did not have to feel so much like something. “But I, ah - wouldn’t want to overstep. You know, professionally,” he added lightly, and his mouth twitched up at the last bit, tongue firmly in his cheek, “Cash.”
Because if he was ignoring everything else, there was something at least a little bit funny about this. (To be honest, though, if he was at all worried about overstepping, it had nothing to do with the professional boundaries he was transgressing, and more that Theo thought he - might possibly like Cash Lestrange more than he should.)
