[ He can't help it. He can't. His head falls back and he laughs, breathy and genuinely, at the ceiling because- okay, the delivery on that one was just... It was good.
He laughs through Tony's laughter, he laughs through the protests, he just. He can't help it.
And then he knows.
He knows the name for that feeling. It almost makes his stomach bottom out, almost rips his breath out of his chest.
All he can think, really, is: Oh, hell. That makes sense.
It's why Elizabeth Ross won't work out, why her colleagues are just distant thoughts without names to him still because he's forgotten them all, it's why no other set of shoulders will really do it for him quite the same way.
Yeah.
Makes sense.
Sadly, quietly, and with no small amount of resignation, he accepts it. ]
no subject
He laughs through Tony's laughter, he laughs through the protests, he just. He can't help it.
And then he knows.
He knows the name for that feeling. It almost makes his stomach bottom out, almost rips his breath out of his chest.
All he can think, really, is: Oh, hell. That makes sense.
It's why Elizabeth Ross won't work out, why her colleagues are just distant thoughts without names to him still because he's forgotten them all, it's why no other set of shoulders will really do it for him quite the same way.
Yeah.
Makes sense.
Sadly, quietly, and with no small amount of resignation, he accepts it. ]