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Summary
For a selfish moment, he wishes they were the only two people in the room. North has plenty of things he still wants to say—a damn laundry list. So much he should’ve said over the phone. Fuck, before Sonic even left. But actions speak louder than words; North swears by that.
If they were alone, he’d drag Sonic in, press their foreheads together. He’d inhale their combined scent until he got drunk from it. High off the feeling, high as a fucking kite. And just as carefully, he’d pepper Sonic’s throat and jaw with featherlight kisses, tasting him just like he’s always wanted to and—
Or, well—taste him? Kisses? Kisses.
Oh.
Oh.
Or: In which North navigates the complicated realities of an insurmountable wall, different time zones, winding racetracks and friendships that have always been something… more. A closer look at North and Sonic’s complicated relationship in Season 2.