Catherine enjoyed her usual happiness with Henry Tilney, listening with sparkling eyes to everything he said; and, in finding him irresistible, becoming so herself.
Midorima woke to find that, while Takao himself had ended up with his limbs sprawled all over the place and his head hanging halfway off the bed, he had left his mark on Midorima via a stiff, drying patch of saliva between his shoulder blades. It was disgusting, certainly—he shuddered as soon as it registered in his mind. Night after night, Takao slept with his face mashed up against Midorima’s back and couldn’t seem to find a way to sleep with his mouth shut.
What a troublesome fool.
Midorima braced his hands under Takao’s torso, righting him on the bed with slow movements so he would not jostle him awake. He sighed through his nose as he brushed his fingers through the hair at his temples, carefully, unsticking it from his skin.
He stirred in his sleep and Midorima soothed him by tracing his hairline.
Gross, troublesome little fool.
WAAHHH I LOVE IT!!!!! YES WRITE MORE IM SO HAPPY!!!!
