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His hands are warm, but not sweaty. ‘Personal space-heater,’ Blue calls him. Ink only recently learned what a space-heater is.
He can feel something, a soft pitter patter… a pulse? Dream inhales shakily, and Ink drags his gaze from their joined hands to his face.
Soft, golden, round cheeks, rounder eyes, eyelights blown wide. Golden, golden, golden. Dream’s sockets flutter, his eyelights trained firmly on where their hands touch. He’s not wearing gloves. Neither of them are. Dream opens his mouth as if to say something, but nothing comes out.
Their eyes meet. His cheeks get more golden. Ink only watches him.
“You’re really pretty,” Ink whispers. He’s afraid talking louder will somehow pop the roundness of Dream’s bewildered face. “You look like a lemon.”
Dream’s brow-bone furrows. Whoops. “What?”
He looks confused. Ink repeats himself. “You look like a lemon.”
Dream looks more bewildered, but in the wrong way. That may have been the wrong thing to say.
“More like a daisy, I think,” Ink tries to recover this, to bring Dream back to that perfect moment of widened eyelights and even wider sockets.
Dream blinks, colouring further. There we go. Just like that. He looks good like that.
“A daisy? Like the flower?” Dream asks, his voice soft and a tad higher than usual.
Ink has no idea what he’s referring to. “Is there another kind of daisy?”
“I…” Dream’s eyes go back to their hands. Now he’s clammy. “I don’t… know.”
He pouts, that way he does when he thinks no one’s watching. His cheeks puff up, like a yellow water balloon, and he does his best retort. “Well, you look like that round, pink bubblegum container.”
Ink really fucking loves water balloons.
“The kind they sell at those little corner stores?”
“Yeah, that thing.”
Ink laughs at him, and Dream’s face gets impossibly brighter.
“Oh, hush, you.”
Ink’s cheeks hurt from smiling.