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"Did you make that yourself?" Char asks, bemused, watching as Garma fusses with his boutonniere. "Who knew you were skilled in flower arrangement?"
"It's not that hard," Garma says, then, correcting himself - "Why, do you think you could do better?"
"No, no." Char leans back against the wall. "I don't have any interest, really." So: Garma would win by default, solely because Char wouldn't even try. Sometimes Garma tries to challenge Char to petty little things like this and sometimes Char rises to the occasion and sometimes he brushes it off because he thinks it's funny.
"I see."
Somehow, though, watching Garma's face fall like that - "It really does look nice. We don't have to be rivals in *everything,* you know. Sometimes it's better not to compete because you know you won't win."
"Sure, sure." Garma looks down at himself, then back up at his own reflection in the mirror, and nods. He can see Char in the mirror behind him, and Char is watching him intently; when he notices Garma looking, he grins, and Garma ducks his head for a moment.
"Oh, Garma." Char laughs, and invades Garma's personal space, patting him on the shoulder and slightly adjusting the angle of a single little bud on the boutonniere, as if it was wholly necessary for him to do so. He just likes to see Garma fluster, enjoys all the different shades of red he's made Garma turn over the couple of years they've known each other.
"Char!" Garma says, far more forcefully than Char expected; he raises his eyebrows, nearly stepping back but catching himself. Garma grabs him by the lapels, then seems to think better of it, and then instead reaches behind himself, hand grasping at the little table in front of the mirror until he finds a second boutonniere. Char hadn't even noticed it; just assumed it was leftover flowers or something. But no, it's another little arrangement of purple and red flowers, and Garma is.
Garma is pinning them on Char's suit jackt, just above the breast pocket.
"Oh?"
"Since you couldn't be bothered getting your own," Garma says, and his eyes are lowered but he looks very smug about it nonetheless. "We wouldn't want you turning up at a party underdressed."
"What, you think everyone's going to have flowers?"
Garma hums, then says, "Well. Probably not. Maybe I just want everyone to know who you came with."
They're already standing very close. Char's invaded Garma's space any number of times, but it's still charming, having Garma be the one to approach first. It takes no effort at all for Char to tilt his head, whisper in Garma's ear. "How forward."
Garma does blush at that, but he doesn't flinch or fluster or try to justify himself. "One of us has to be, right?"
"Is that so?"
Garma sighs. "Char ... No, no, don't be like that. You always - if you get to push me up against walls, why can't I do the same?"
And he does, too, looking - not flustered, but like he's trying his very best to be brave, instead, like he's decided *this* is the best course of action and no matter how nervous it makes him he's going to follow through, and Char can't help but respect that, honestly. Garma may be a bit soft and weak-minded, easy to manipulate as a child or a particularly eager dog, but he has his moments, and Char hasn't found the right one to get rid of him yet, and - maybe he's a little bit charmed.
"Besides, we've been going out long enough anyway," Garma says, half to himself, and that's news to Char, but *okay*, if that's what Garma thinks, that's - not what Char was going for, and now he's a bit lost, honestly, but. Okay.
He's supposed to do something here, probably, but he's a little stunned. Is that what they've been doing? Maybe so. "Ah," Char says, very smartly.
Garma laughs. He's just sort of been - standing here, in front of Char, hands resting lightly on Char's chest. They're very, very close. They've stood like this before a few times. (Char suddenly has flashbacks to times that he's gotten in Garma's space to egg him on, encourage him to do something stupid, and times when Garma has subsequently closed his eyes and tilted his head up, and Char thought he was scared, but no, Garma was - oh *no.* Char has made a tactical error.)
"Come on," Garma says, finally, stepping back. He lets a hand trail down Char's arm, taking his hand. He smiles - nervous, but putting on a brave front. "We've taken long enough that we'll be fashionably late, don't worry."
"I do hate to be first at a party," Char says. He's still trying to figure out since when, exactly, Garma decided the two of them were a couple. Maybe there's something funny there - it probably took Garma a while to figure out, too, trying to (mis)read Char's signals for months, maybe. (There have been - Char has made a few tactical missteps, is the thing. Has let himself fall asleep in Garma's bunk a few times after staying up late bothering his roommate. They haven't even kissed, but. He can see how Garma would come to certain conclusions and maybe assume that Char is just - weird about things. Char is weird about a lot of things, but physicality isn't one of them, not really, he just didn't even think of it. Some part of him knew Garma had a crush and was playing with that fact but. Maybe this is fine, maybe this particular miscalculation will come out to his advantage. He takes a glance down at the little purple and red flowers on his suit jacket, and looks back up at Garma.
"Char ..."
"Wait," Char says, making sure they're in sight of other people but not quite in hearing range; he pretends he doesn't notice the others. He touches Garma's chin, very lightly, brushes their lips together.
Garma lights up, at that. Char has an odd feeling in his chest, seeing how delighted Garma looks. An odd tightness, a pressure on his heart. Maybe he's getting sick. Garma laughs at him - "What, are you nervous?"
"No!" Char blurts out, entirely too defensive. He brushes his hair back, looking off to the side, trying to look calm and composed. "Of course not. Why would I be?"
"So you *can* get nervous," Garma says, grinning. "Don't worry, I won't do anything too embarrassing at the party."