[ Being this close is its own special kind of comfort where there might as well be no one else where but the two of them, and even with all the uncertainties waiting to be considered again it's enough to take in this moment with one particular surety when Sylvain kisses him once and then twice: he's happy.

He hums as if considering something, as if looking for some silly retort like the ones they so frequently toss back and forth, but nothing ever surfaces when taking in the look on Sylvain's face. Nothing that Claude has to second guess, nor does he have to guess whether it's matched on his own when he can feel it is as he keeps running his fingers through the other's hair. ]

Well. It's no cooking a surprise dinner, but I was hoping it might be even a sliver of that. [ With a fleeting grin as he decides those previous kisses weren't enough and leans up again to steal another one, and then another simply because he can, and to stay close to murmur against Sylvain's lips after. ] The night's still young, though, and I can think of more than a few ways to close it out back at the loft.