[Butterflies. A ridiculous amount of them, to the point he can hardly contain himself. Never would he have imagined it of him, or that he'd want this, both silly and deeply sweet. By the time he's finishing, he's laughing and blushing all at the same time and then seeking to hide his face against his throat, because he can't take it anymore.]

What am I going to do with you?

[A soft murmur against warm skin.]

Aside from love you to the entropy death of the universe?

[Hey. It's romantic. For an angel.]

All of this is starting to thread back through and color other memories. Does that ever happen to you? Time bleed? It only happens when I'm very happy or very sad.