Rush was the one who moved. He got both his hands on Mark’s face and kissed him right back, so gentle and sweet that Mark thought he might cry, once he was done fainting. He did neither, he just kissed Rush harder, one hand still in his hair and the other on his waist. It seemed almost wrong to stop now they had started, but they did for a moment, and Mark looked right into Rush’s gray eyes and waited. 

“Mark,” Rush said, those gray eyes searching Mark’s face. “You…”

“Yep,” Mark said. “I - I am. I guess that’s what you’re asking me?”

“Me too,” Rush said. “Gee whizz.” He started to laugh, a kind of giddy, relieved laugh that wasn’t for any reason. Mark found himself laughing too, and pulling Rush tight against him. 

“I don’t think fancy pianists say “gee whizz”,” he said. “Not the kind that play the Carnegie Hall anyway.”

“Yes they do,” Rush said. “Fancy pianists do all kinds of things. Like kissing the guy they’ve been in love with since they were fourteen, for instance.”

“So do molecular biologists,” said Mark. “But I was thirteen. Watching you watching shooting stars.”