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Hand carding through his hair, working through the knots then fingers lingering to massage the spots where the scalp got pulled too much. His face squishes on one of Ted’s thighs, his arms wrapping themselves around the calf and smooths his palm over the rough surface of body hair on the shin. They are watching a documentary about something, spacey wacey something, he can’t give a damn nor really understand, but it’s one of the types that Ted really likes to watch.
Ted digs the heel of his palm on Michael’s shaven nape, then moves up to tangle his fingers against the blonde strands, and Michael fights himself to not grin too much.
The hand stalls as one of the scientists on the screen rambles, Ted’s focus now directed fully towards the tv show instead of smoothing his luscious model's naturally beautiful hair, but Michael can’t seem to bother, with how relaxed he felt and how nice Ted’s leg felt against his body.
It’s been a while since he felt like this, sleepy but not entirely, relaxed but he could still kick his legs around and make a mess of Ted’s cushion without a care, feeling like he’s under his mom’s embrace.
“Hey Ted.”
“Hm?” The hand starts to move again, content with just patting down the fluff of Michael’s hair.
“You know, I only do this kinda stuff with my mom or my sister.”
Another hum, Ted scratched the area around his temple for a sec. It made Michael feel like a sloth.
“Especially with my mom, you know? I’m feeling exactly how I was when I was young.”
Ted hums again, of acknowledgment. His hand carding itself through Michael’s hair again, acting as a comforting gesture to ease him, to whatever he’s going to say.
“Not exactly the same, but similar. With her, I feel like ‘oh, this is nice’. But with you,” Michael turns his gaze away from the TV to look at Ted’s knee bone, “I’m like ‘this is super nice.’”
Ted chuckled, switching his fingers to the whole palm, he pressed them on Michael’s head and massaged it.
“Then you don’t mind if I do this, right?” Ted asks, yet not waiting for any answer as he reaches out to one of Michael’s hands on his knee.
The brunette held his wrist, then brought it higher, until Michael felt the soft, slightly chapped lips landed on his knuckles.
Ted twists the captured hand around so he can press more kisses, with obnoxious smacking noises, to the skin between the knuckles, or just let his lips linger on a protruding vein on Michael’s hand.
Michael, trapped by the awkward position of his left arm up high and his right arm under Ted’s blessed weight of a thigh, he hears his heart hammering and his cheeks flushed with tingles. He tried his best to snuggle his face on Ted’s upper thigh, hiding his reaction away from the brunette, but the giggles were still audible.
“I—”
I love you.
“I like this. Very nice.”