A chuckle rumbles deep in his chest, a tickling sensation spreading from his neck and to the tips of his fingers. A brow arches at Mike’s remark. “Miraculously, I haven’t been sick since I was a child,” he mutters, subtle smile lines stitching themselves onto his visage. “Really, Mike, you have nothing to worry about.”
Erwin then untangles his digits from Mike’s, slips out of his chair and stretches; the bones in his back pops loudly. He laughs, light. He fixes his eyes on the couch in his office, stepping closer to it and settling down. He swings his booted feet up and rests them on the armrest, head plopping down on a pillow. He could already feel the drowsiness getting to him.
“Happy?” he asks Mike, folding his arms on his chest.
Mike gives him a peck on the lips. “Doesn’t mean you won’t.” His arms’ embrace tighten lightly. He nuzzles into his neck and sighs softly. His thumbs rub against Erwin’s palms, sighing as he exhales softly.
His brows furrow at the laugh. He eyes him treading to the couch. He stares at him for a while, sighing softly. Erwin didn’t get it, did he? He rolls his eyes.
“No.” Mike scoops him up, carrying him to his bedroom and laying him down.
