#mulklinger

Francis let his lips twitch. “I thought you called yourself an Athiest, Klinger.”

Klinger shrugged and slipped into the empty folding chair, tucking his purse in his lap. “Sure, but who else am I gonna talk about myself with? How do I start this, do I just talk?”

“Well, traditionally, you would ask for forgiveness for your sins, but if it’s just a conversation you’re looking for…”

“Oh, sure. It’s less a confession and more something I feel like I should tell you so it doesn’t make me go nuts, so I don’t think I really need forgiveness for it.”

Klinger seemed… nervous. He fiddled with the clasp of his purse rather than smiling up at him like usual. It was a shame—he had a beautiful smile.

“Tell away,” Francis invited.

Klinger pursed his lips, took a deep breath, and scooted his chair closer until his knees were touching Francis’s through the very hem of his skirt. “Okay, so, maybe it’s not telling, but more doing.”

He scooted further up on his chair, forcing his knees between Francis’s own, grabbed him by the shoulders, and kissed him.

Francis pulled away, heart pounding. He’d thought– “Klinger,” he scolded. “Honestly, you ought to know by now to leave me out of your schemes!”

“It’s not a scheme, Father, honest! It’s a confession!”

“You– you’re defiling the sanctity of confession with another of your attempts to get out of the Army!”

“Would you take me seriously for once? I’m being honest, here, I think you’re cute!”

It took the wind out of Francis’s sails. “Cute?”

Klinger beamed, still far closer than he should have been. “Yeah. Like a bunny rabbit, you know?”