A hug. A hug would be nice. Which is why he doesn't mention it as the movie gets picked and snacks get chosen.
He does scootch gradually closer whenever the TV gets loud enough to be, he thinks, sufficiently distracting. He does pull his arms inside his sweater and s l o w l y, with all the subtlety of a cat who is convinced they are invisible, rest his head on Saga's shoulder.
"Goof," she says before her arm will sneak around his shoulders and yes, reach up to ruffle his hair a little. She'll fix it before turning to give the top of his head a little kiss.
Edwin relaxes. Snuggles in. Senses that soft tug that means sleep could happen if he let it, and sleep sounds nice. Nicer than losing track of the movie every so often while he overthinks a piece of the mess.
He lets his eyes close, lets his body fully relax, and drifts off. Like fireflies coming out at night, colors and wispy half-formed images start to wink in and out of existence around him. The unborn dreams of a child god who mumbles in his sleep.
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He does scootch gradually closer whenever the TV gets loud enough to be, he thinks, sufficiently distracting. He does pull his arms inside his sweater and s l o w l y, with all the subtlety of a cat who is convinced they are invisible, rest his head on Saga's shoulder.
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He lets his eyes close, lets his body fully relax, and drifts off. Like fireflies coming out at night, colors and wispy half-formed images start to wink in and out of existence around him. The unborn dreams of a child god who mumbles in his sleep.