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one-line.

**** contd.

[It's a lot to take in, first the soft comfort of his bed against his back which is a goddamn blessing right now because he had been so tense before. Ian's choice to be a complete and total emotional terrorist definitely got his mind away from the shit that was constantly eating at him.

Richie briefly exhales, a small laugh escaping him, something exasperated. Now he gets it, but retaliation is a matter of pride, and in the middle of the laughing he grabs Ian forward with aggression, hand-knotted into his shirt with purpose. Lips mean lips, more like slam into them, payback is a sport.]

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