Let's make tonight the weekend, I don't wanna wait
He quiets to better hear her evolving plans, lips twisting up as she speaks with an effort not to laugh, which makes everything she says ten times funnier. "When has that happened to you before?" he demands with a laugh that breaks free at the end, absolutely calling her out on such a clear fib. There's no disagreement from him though, so if she's looking for anyone to run ideas past for a sanity check, this isn't it. "Could add booby traps too," he offers, picturing abrupt flame throwers emerging from a platform in the beach.
The rest hardly seems to matter when they're both dissolving into helpless fits of laughter that make it clear why doctors can just up and declare hysteria. "Wombled is not a word," he accuses with a surge of adoration, absolutely intending to fold that into his vocabulary immediately. He's reached a point where the happiness hurts, his breath shaky and his sides in stitches. Every attempt to control it though only seems to encourage it, and he seriously considers just walking around of the room to avoid the contagious loop of hearing and watching her break over and over again too. It's the sort of whole-body joy and moment that whenever you try to explain to someone later will sound entirely boring and not amusing in the slightest. You had to be there.
When it flutters down into echoes and smiles that shrink and stretch rapidly, threatening a return to disarray in a heartbeat, he hums softly into the small space between them after his very obvious concession about how he feels about her. The slow creep of her closer to him, expression shifting into something so delicate he can't help but focus on it and gather his breath in waiting wonder of what, makes what she says next entirely unexpected. A laugh he fights to keep back erupts so suddenly, he's sure to spray her with a bit of spit before he turns away and attempts to suffocate himself into a towel. "Cannot be worse than the wedgie you gave me," he mumbles past fabric before reeling back to his feet.
Having lost all sense of his spa professionalism, he delivers a swift slap to her flaky ass, and with a put on southern accent tells her to "go on, git in the shower." He flashes a look back towards her as he starts to gather the towels and the muddy tools and bowl, completely and utterly in love. "Seaweed wrap is next," he informs, "and I'll do your nails while you turn into the ocean."
The rest hardly seems to matter when they're both dissolving into helpless fits of laughter that make it clear why doctors can just up and declare hysteria. "Wombled is not a word," he accuses with a surge of adoration, absolutely intending to fold that into his vocabulary immediately. He's reached a point where the happiness hurts, his breath shaky and his sides in stitches. Every attempt to control it though only seems to encourage it, and he seriously considers just walking around of the room to avoid the contagious loop of hearing and watching her break over and over again too. It's the sort of whole-body joy and moment that whenever you try to explain to someone later will sound entirely boring and not amusing in the slightest. You had to be there.
When it flutters down into echoes and smiles that shrink and stretch rapidly, threatening a return to disarray in a heartbeat, he hums softly into the small space between them after his very obvious concession about how he feels about her. The slow creep of her closer to him, expression shifting into something so delicate he can't help but focus on it and gather his breath in waiting wonder of what, makes what she says next entirely unexpected. A laugh he fights to keep back erupts so suddenly, he's sure to spray her with a bit of spit before he turns away and attempts to suffocate himself into a towel. "Cannot be worse than the wedgie you gave me," he mumbles past fabric before reeling back to his feet.
Having lost all sense of his spa professionalism, he delivers a swift slap to her flaky ass, and with a put on southern accent tells her to "go on, git in the shower." He flashes a look back towards her as he starts to gather the towels and the muddy tools and bowl, completely and utterly in love. "Seaweed wrap is next," he informs, "and I'll do your nails while you turn into the ocean."
Kaisel
Got no reason not to celebrate
Wearing a watery blue, faded and stretched-out sparkling hair tie on his left wrist
