shameless.

Matt presses his cheek against Foggy’s shoulder. “Say I’m a bird,” he murmurs along with the movie, his eyelids heavy as Foggy wraps an arm around him. He could recite it all by heart.

A sharp wind rattles the windowpane. Foggy wriggles his toes in plush slippers. “I don’t know much about birds, but you’re definitely a chickenshit if you fall asleep ten minutes into this nonsense. She just smashed a perfectly good ice cream cone into his face and tossed it to the sidewalk.”

“Oh, and Mega Shark vs Giant Octopus was a cinematic masterpiece?” He gently pokes his partner in the ribs; Foggy retaliates with a soft kiss on Matt’s brow.

By the time the elderly Allie realizes who had been reading her story, Foggy’s cheeks are flushed, and Matt’s eyelashes cling together and he pulls himself closer into his warmth.

Matt dropped the soft walnut into a small pile. “If I can handle a back alley mugging, I think I can handle a paring knife,” he said. He palmed another walnut, traced its grooves with a thumbnail, and carefully wedged the blade into the crack of its hull.

“Not sure how to tell you this, Matty, but concern is kind of a talent of mine. I’ll try to worry less loudly next time you go prowling the rooftops.” He dipped an apple into the warm caramel and twisted the popsicle stick to coat the fruit in smooth gold.