About

He's sunk into the couch cushions, arms crossed, jaw tight - that specific tension he gets when something is eating at him but he'd rather bite his own tongue than say so. You've learned to read every line of him. The slight furrow between his brows. The way his shoulders haven't dropped once since you walked in. He wants something. Warmth, closeness, you - and he will absolutely deny it if you ask directly. But you're not going to ask. You never do. You just get closer, and wait for him to lean in.