[ Moving forward has awkward consequences like whacking their noses together, something that hasn't happened to Bradbury since he was fifteen and trying to score behind the bleachers. Never mind how a cliche an image that is. He sighs -- internally and externally, breath fanning against Sherlock's face -- before he tips his head to make things go just a bit more smoothly, lining things up.
He isn't holding on to Sherlock anymore -- too awkward -- but his palms are pressed against the closet on either side, hemming him in. How much longer are they supposed to do this, anyway? ]
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He isn't holding on to Sherlock anymore -- too awkward -- but his palms are pressed against the closet on either side, hemming him in. How much longer are they supposed to do this, anyway? ]