You're always thinking. ( he says sleepily, but not because he isn't listening to his brother, or paying attention to his body language; of course he isn't going to miss the way he exhales against the back of his neck like it's meant to be a laugh, he can feel that his heart isn't in it, and that's his first clue that this isn't just because his brother had taken in caffeine too late in the evening.
the fingers trailing along his nape, dragging through the fine, shaved-short hair there don't stop in their wandering, shifting instead to press into the tired, tight muscle just above the line of his shoulders as best he can from such an awkward angle. his nails drag just as much as the tips of his fingers dig in, and at the sound of his name he turns very gently, not quite enough to look after his shoulder but. the effort itself should be enough. )
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the fingers trailing along his nape, dragging through the fine, shaved-short hair there don't stop in their wandering, shifting instead to press into the tired, tight muscle just above the line of his shoulders as best he can from such an awkward angle. his nails drag just as much as the tips of his fingers dig in, and at the sound of his name he turns very gently, not quite enough to look after his shoulder but. the effort itself should be enough. )
Yes, Vash?