coughs grims and burgh shoulder rubs
“Oh my god,” Grimsley practically moans, his head tilting downwards. Burghs fingers dig wonderfully into his shoulders, kneading apart the knots brought on by stress. He’s dead. This is it; he’s died and gone to heaven, there’s no going back. “You’re really good at this...” He gives a soft sigh, though it comes of sounding more pained than relieved.
Were he facing Burgh, he’d be able to see the smile that graces the gym leader’s face. “You’ve been really stressed, this is the least I can do.” He continues to move his hands, and Grimsley practically melts.
“...I retract my previous opinions, bugs are fuckin awesome...” Grimsley groans, sinking back into Burgh’s touch.
“You’re just saying that to please me.”
“...Is it working...?”
“Perhaps.” Burgh hums thoughtfully. “What is it you really want?”
Grimsley doesn’t answer with words; instead, he turns around, and flings himself into an awkward hug. “You’re warm...” he mutters, but they both know it’s not his reasoning for the hug. Not that either of them will ever speak the truth.
