Wilhelm melts into those kisses, the warmth of Jesper's words. He doubts his own strength on days when he goes around feeling like broken glass and nights when everything crowded inside his head keeps him awake. But he's trying. And maybe that in itself is an act of courage.

The rush of heat against his ear translates into a prickling at the back of his neck and a flush in his cheeks. He's more aware than ever of their nakedness under the steaming water. Breaking the moment, he shoves at Jesper's chest.

"Fuck you," he laughs. Dangling from a smile, it sounds like a term of endearment.

He has to leap to another subject, though, to beat back thoughts of pulling Jesper into his lap. He knows that Jesper wouldn't mind — hell, that's an understatement — but Wilhelm isn't fond of tangling up private lives and public places. Not to mention, it would probably be really fucking unsanitary.

"How are things with Wylan, anyway?"