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"That might be the least romantic thing you've ever said to me."
Travis leans against the dresser with a raised eyebrow, looking down at his boyfriend in playful shock.
His expression sends Sal snorting into laughter, his hand leaving its place entangled with Travis' to hold his gut. He nearly falls out of his chair, but thankfully doesn't drop the oblong glass eye he's holding.
"What! No way," he gasps around laughter. "It's the most romantic."
Well, not the most romantic, but… Maybe a little romantic. Travis can admit his smile is not entirely amusement and the heat of his ears is not completely due to indignation.
"There is nothing romantic about eye socket discharge," Travis half-lies. There's an intimacy here, watching Sal clean his eye and his socket, but it's no white roses and red wine, that's for sure.
Still, Travis' cheeks are warm. He can't quite fight a smile.
"There is if I use it to write 'I love you'."
"Ugh!" Travis puts a hand over his mouth and laughs. "Please don't. I'll admit it's romantic that you're comfortable cleaning your eye around me but only if you don't do that."
Giving a theatrical sigh, Sal slumps back in his chair, his face still smiling in the reflection of his dresser mirror even as he pretends to be hurt. "You're so very cruel, Travis. You deny my affections so brutishly!"
Although the sound embarrasses him, Travis bursts into giggles, hiding his face in his hands even as he shouts, "You're a freaking dork! Do-ooork!"
Sal giggles too. "Your dork?" He doesn't go back to cleaning his eye just yet, instead peeking up at Travis through his eyelashes with the eye that remains.
Heat engulfs his face at the sight and he grins, stomach in butterflies. "Yeah. My dork."