[ Akira lifts his hand; Minato's gaze tracs its movements as it rises and -- gentle fingertips reach out to brush against his bangs out of his face. His eyes widen briefly, blood roaring in his ears from the distinct feeling of being seen. The rose in his cheeks is dyed an even deeper shade of red, gaze darting away from Akira's once more.
"Weirdo," is what Minato nearly says, a half-hearted attempt to deflect Akira's earnest and heartfelt comment. And it's not like what Akira says doesn't make his own pulse thrum within his veins.
So instead, he muses: ]
...guess there's no point in asking if you mean that.
[ After all, Akira always says what he means.
As he feels Akira's other hand sliding down from his thigh, Minato reaches up to accept it in both hands, using one to cradle it in his palm and the other to tug at the fabric, drawing it down and off Akira's hand.
It joins his other glove on the floor.
Wordlessly, Minato lifts his own hands, offering them to Akira in a tacit request in spite of his still-averted gaze. ]
no subject
"Weirdo," is what Minato nearly says, a half-hearted attempt to deflect Akira's earnest and heartfelt comment. And it's not like what Akira says doesn't make his own pulse thrum within his veins.
So instead, he muses: ]
...guess there's no point in asking if you mean that.
[ After all, Akira always says what he means.
As he feels Akira's other hand sliding down from his thigh, Minato reaches up to accept it in both hands, using one to cradle it in his palm and the other to tug at the fabric, drawing it down and off Akira's hand.
It joins his other glove on the floor.
Wordlessly, Minato lifts his own hands, offering them to Akira in a tacit request in spite of his still-averted gaze. ]