The proximity they now share is more intoxicating than he had anticipated. After a lifetime of declined connections, of lurking at the edges of others' lives, the simplicity of sharing an embrace feels like so much more.

"Touch-starved, is that what they call it?" he muses to himself, out loud again, then grimaces at the realization that it wasn't just in his head.

"Maybe you're right, I shouldn't... I want to be here with you, I don't want to let go right away, but this damned curse, or whatever it is. Makes it hard to keep my head straight since I keep interrupting myself and my heart is pounding nonstop," he babbles before refocusing. "Let me do one more thing before I go, all right?"

Let him prolong this moment with them so close, let him bring them just a little bit closer. He understands (or he thinks he does) why Will is cautious and hesitant; who wouldn't be when Rosinante can't keep his tongue from flapping and when Beacon has tried so hard in the past to fill Will's thoughts with terror and mistrust. He's unused to setting the pace for a relationship, he's unused to anything remotely relationship-like, but he knows he wants this, and wants Will to know it's all right. That it's awkward, but that that's okay.

Heart still pounding, he dips his chin and presses their lips together. He may be clumsy and unpracticed, but at least he's earnest.