"I love it when you kiss me. It's..." He trailed off, smiling. Words couldn't quite describe it - or at least not any that came to mind with Steve touching him like that. But the thought surfaced, a tiny reminder that widened his smile. "One time - once I remember anyway," Jim started, voice quiet and warm, "I dreamed about kissing you. I don't remember how I'd got the money in the dream, but I'd bought this big ol' apartment for us somewhere uptown. It had this whole room that was nothing but glass, ceiling and walls, with this amazing view of the city. We had one of those couches like you always see in the movies, where the ladies laid back and relaxed - fainting couch or whatever - there in that room.
"I was layin' there in our balcony room, watching it rain on the windows above me, and the radio was playing. And then you came in." His voice had turned wistful, eyes mostly closed. This had been one of the happy dreams - probably one he'd had during summer, maybe even during a storm. Half and half, those storms. Either they'd made Steve feel better by damping down all the smoke and pollution or they'd kicked up the pollen from the flowers and trees and grass and had made him worse. No way to tell which was which, but he'd always had his hopes. "You had a whole room for your art there, and you'd been busy. Had the charcoal up your fingers, a little on the side of your nose, wearin' one of your white shirts with the sleeves rolled up, neck loose, and you smiled at me. Said something about watching the rain, can't really remember that part. But I remember telling you... I said, 'You don't have to worry about it here, Steve. I took care of everything. You're gonna be fine.' And the next thing I knew, I was standing there beside you with my hand on your cheek, and you looked up at me and you looked like an angel."
Jim swallowed because that... That, at least was still as vivid and still as true as the night he'd dreamed it. "And then I was kissing you and you had your arms around my neck, and it was perfect. S'one of the best dreams I ever had."
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"I was layin' there in our balcony room, watching it rain on the windows above me, and the radio was playing. And then you came in." His voice had turned wistful, eyes mostly closed. This had been one of the happy dreams - probably one he'd had during summer, maybe even during a storm. Half and half, those storms. Either they'd made Steve feel better by damping down all the smoke and pollution or they'd kicked up the pollen from the flowers and trees and grass and had made him worse. No way to tell which was which, but he'd always had his hopes. "You had a whole room for your art there, and you'd been busy. Had the charcoal up your fingers, a little on the side of your nose, wearin' one of your white shirts with the sleeves rolled up, neck loose, and you smiled at me. Said something about watching the rain, can't really remember that part. But I remember telling you... I said, 'You don't have to worry about it here, Steve. I took care of everything. You're gonna be fine.' And the next thing I knew, I was standing there beside you with my hand on your cheek, and you looked up at me and you looked like an angel."
Jim swallowed because that... That, at least was still as vivid and still as true as the night he'd dreamed it. "And then I was kissing you and you had your arms around my neck, and it was perfect. S'one of the best dreams I ever had."