1 Work by scrapheaps
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Follo's no good when Zanka gets like this, stomach rolling like a hungry animal's, his own face warming, tongue useless. All he can do is stare back. The little sensation he has left in his hands, he uses to grip Alan helplessly.
Zanka sees this and huffs. "I ain't repeatin' myself if ya heard me the first time."
"I don't think I did," Follo says weakly. The corners of Zanka's lips twitch up. Follo can't help but drop his gaze to watch, mouth suddenly bone dry. "You — since when've you been thinking about that?"
"Follo." Zanka shakes the thigh Follo's been using as a cushion for his head this whole time, voice flat. "We're datin'. Been datin'. For weeks."
"Okay, yeah," he splutters, a stupidly large part of himself doing backflips — he actually said it! — on the inside.