[Chris goes easily, settling into the scoop and making a softer pad of his legs for Nick to settle in.

It’s an easy thing to wrap his arms around him from there and give a brief kiss to Nick’s hair.

This was better. The change in position offsets the slight fidget in his hands and gives his fingers something to mess with as they find corners of Nick’s clothing to fiddle with or an arm to pet absently.]

I miss the ocean. I mean there’s this, but I miss knowing there’s life of all kinds, knowing there’s sails to see on the horizon and the sounds of the docks coming to life each morning. I guess I miss my ocean.

[It’s a silly little topic, but it’s a shift of focus, an attempt to let Nick breathe without feeling like Chris was aiming to pick at any edges.]