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Summary
He’s leaning against a pool table, the game abandoned as he chats amiably with a group of guys still holding their cues. She watches his hands, the way his fingers curl around the lip of the table, the way they shift against his thigh. The long line of his leg, narrow in his dark jeans, the perfect thirty degree bend of his knee. The pull of his t shirt over his shoulders, the way the fabric pools at his waist.
He’s easier in parts. It’s more theoretical that way, the wanting. More clinical.
AKA... BAND AU