Work Text:
Consider the distraction a success, he guessed. His feet moved almost of their own accord, following his boyfriend ( god , he loved using that word) onto the floor, his eyes trained on the curls of blond that swept across Michael’s neck, on the blinding smile that was flashed back at him halfway to the middle of the crowd. On their hands, fingers laced together in a way he could never have hoped for just a few weeks ago.
The music was overwhelmingly loud, and bodies everywhere moved with them, but truly it seemed like the whole world narrowed just to their little pocket of movement and heat in the crowd. They were close, closer than they usually would be, but it felt good. It felt right.
For the first time since he agreed to be dragged out that night, Church smiled.
Letting the music drag him into that beautiful place where his (unbelievably wonderful, totally out of his league) boyfriend was already losing himself, Church pressed closer, looped a single finger into the waist of Caboose’s pants and pulled their bodies almost flush against each other and earning him an almost quizzical look.
And alright, he probably wouldn’t do this again, and probably wouldn’t have done this then, but he didn’t let himself think before he breathed a chuckle (inaudible under the thrumming bass and pounding drums and soaring melody of a song he would never remember) and pressed their lips together. There, in the middle of a crowd of strangers. More than he could hear it, he could feel Caboose giggle (fucking giggle ) into the kiss, pulling away before the heat could take them deeper.
(If someone said they thought they saw Leonard Church blush that night, in that club, he would deny it until the day he died. He would strangle them, and then deny it until the day he died.)
Alright, so the music sucked, the drinks were overpriced, and he couldn’t even get the bartender to let him order , but… maybe the night wasn't so bad.