[His brain explodes into sparks of ‘he liked me, he really liked me!’ (America even remembers his full name!), and his heart burns with sudden jealousy. A notorious outlaw. That’s so much better than a dorky British guy.
A notorious outlaw for a while, so it’s not like America’s coming back to an ex in the middle of a fresh honeymoon period. He might try to hide it, but notorious outlaws weren’t known for dying old and surrounded by fat grandchildren. Something that makes him ache for the poor boy, but also feel secretly, horribly glad.]
I want to hear about him. I wanna hear about everything.
[It’s more kind than giddy, but America’s stories are a reminder that there’s life outside of Wonderland, and usually involve famous people or really something really insane happening. Luke could lie around and listen to them forever. Unless he has to worry about whatever tech Crowley’s using to transform things into other things, because America stops mid-sentence and looks to be having an aneurism.
Or maybe he’s overheated. That’s why turtles move their mouths like that, right? He doesn’t think it could be about his real age, because he’s pretty sure that’s something he would know. Oblique references to your youth are almost the same as telling your boyfriend upfront that, while you have the body of a totally mature and emotionally ready nineteen year old, you’re only five in lived years. It really is.
He's wondering if he should carry him to somewhere cool when smoke appears from goddamn nowhere. Like a movie where a penis-faced animal transforms into a sparkly Disney princess, Luke is suddenly looking at a very flat stomach. Instead of a scaly neck, his hand brushes the strong muscles of America’s taut back, and Luke’s cheeks are instantly pink.
Possibly because he can no longer take air into his lungs.
His gaze flicks up, only turning pinker as there’s barely any space between his lips and America’s lips and Luke’s fingers tighten on the back of America’s shirt as he discovers America still has very lovely cheek bones.]
Hello.
[He holds that smile for an admirable three seconds, before drinking in the length of his body again.]
action
A notorious outlaw for a while, so it’s not like America’s coming back to an ex in the middle of a fresh honeymoon period. He might try to hide it, but notorious outlaws weren’t known for dying old and surrounded by fat grandchildren. Something that makes him ache for the poor boy, but also feel secretly, horribly glad.]
I want to hear about him. I wanna hear about everything.
[It’s more kind than giddy, but America’s stories are a reminder that there’s life outside of Wonderland, and usually involve famous people or really something really insane happening. Luke could lie around and listen to them forever. Unless he has to worry about whatever tech Crowley’s using to transform things into other things, because America stops mid-sentence and looks to be having an aneurism.
Or maybe he’s overheated. That’s why turtles move their mouths like that, right? He doesn’t think it could be about his real age, because he’s pretty sure that’s something he would know. Oblique references to your youth are almost the same as telling your boyfriend upfront that, while you have the body of a totally mature and emotionally ready nineteen year old, you’re only five in lived years. It really is.
He's wondering if he should carry him to somewhere cool when smoke appears from goddamn nowhere. Like a movie where a penis-faced animal transforms into a sparkly Disney princess, Luke is suddenly looking at a very flat stomach. Instead of a scaly neck, his hand brushes the strong muscles of America’s taut back, and Luke’s cheeks are instantly pink.
Possibly because he can no longer take air into his lungs.
His gaze flicks up, only turning pinker as there’s barely any space between his lips and America’s lips and Luke’s fingers tighten on the back of America’s shirt as he discovers America still has very lovely cheek bones.]
Hello.
[He holds that smile for an admirable three seconds, before drinking in the length of his body again.]
You’re much bigger than you looked on camera.
[Still not a double entendre.]