Ford had chosen a bad position to be in. For one thing, if he tried to look anywhere from this vantage he couldn't help but see quite a bit of what he'd just told Tycho he hadn't been looking at. For another, Tycho was still touching his face, which was tying his stomach in knots. This was better than making eye contact from less than a foot away, but only barely. Ford's palm itched from how badly he wanted to touch Ty's hip tattoo.

Touching Tycho would be bad for him. Sitting here and allowing Tycho to keep playing with his hair and caressing his cheek would be a recipe for disaster. Having to make eye contact again would be crushing. But the worst by far would be having to talk about anything that was happening. Right now, Ford was panicked by the mere possibilities of any future conversations. He wasn't ready to start actually having them.

When Ty tipped his chin up Ford felt a rush of panic and dread, sure that his friend was going to say something. When he didn't, Ford could hardly process the fact that Tycho had kissed him, only that he hadn't said anything that Ford now needed to respond to.

Oh, thank Merlin, Ford thought in a rush. He returned the kiss and then some. He shifted his position to a slightly more intentional one, so that he was straddling Tycho, and moved one hand up to tangle in Ty's hair. He was prepared to kiss Tycho forever if it meant never having to actually unpack what was happening.

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