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Bucky has been idly doodling in his notebook ever since second-period Biology started with fucking Huglin surprising them with a rapid quiz. There’s only one aspect of biology that interests him, human anatomy - specifically, Gale’s - but he can’t exactly tell that stuck-up, bitter virgin that, so he finished the quiz and stopped paying attention to the rest of the class. Well, Bucky's a virgin too, but it doesn't get embarrassing until, like, thirty or something. He and Gale have fourteen years to get there. Shouldn't be an issue.
Hell, Bucky isn't even sure he can survive another week without doing something about it. It feels like even the fucking breeze gets him hard nowadays. The other day, he got turned on by Gale telling him he’s going to a swim meet in a few weeks. It reminded him of that one time when he sat through one of Gale's competitions and it made Gale so happy that he kept kissing Bucky until Bucky thought he was going to come in his pants right then and there. It was the first day of this madness. Bucky can’t even spoon Gale in his bed anymore because he’s pretty damn sure he’d have a wet dream. If Gale wants to hug, Bucky has to resort to pushing his ass out or angling his hips away, and he can’t watch a single Netflix show with his mom unless he keeps a pillow on his lap.
Maybe, there's something wrong with him. Gale sure as fuck doesn’t have the same problem because Bucky tried to press up against him sometimes and feel things out, so to say, but nothing. Nada. He would be worried that this sort of attraction was one-sided if Gale hadn't admitted while texting Bucky late at night that he had jerked off to thoughts of Bucky before. God, what a night that was. Bucky slept a grand total of two hours and ended up with a sore right arm the next day. He wishes it wasn’t so awkward and difficult to bring it up when they're face-to-face, because he wants Gale so much it drives him crazy. Oh, the scent of his hair…
Bucky sighs, shifts in his seat and colours in the heart he drew in the corner of the page. Its artistic value is rather questionable, but it's a good enough distraction from plants and shit to continue. He was forced to sit apart from Gale, Curt and Brady, and move to the second row next to a girl who seems annoyed by his constant fidgeting. He would apologize if he wasn’t so goddamn bored and horny. He can’t handle the energy pushing at the seams of his body. He wants to run.
“I can’t emphasize enough -” Huglin drones on, walking between the desks. When he reaches Bucky, he raises his voice. “- the importance of these processes.”
Before he could stop himself, Bucky snorts. Huglin zeroes in on him like a hawk. “Something to add, Egan?”
“Nothing.” Bucky bites his tongue, but Huglin's entire being vexes him so much that he can’t keep his mouth shut or make his face show deference. “Just kind of wondering when I'm gonna need the list of leaf shapes in the future.”
A low titter ripples through the class, and Huglin's face turns an ugly ashen colour in rage. He gestures at the whiteboard, where he drew a bunch of different plants. “Tell me, do you know which one of those is poisonous?”
Bucky glances at the sketches, doesn’t recognize any of them or recall anything the man said in the past fifteen minutes, but he does remember something. He has a crystal clear memory of Gale telling him about some video he watched about philosophers, and that one of them died of hemlock poisoning.
“The poison hemlock.” Bucky pretends to be all confident about it, draping his arm over the back of his seat, even though he has no idea if that plant is on the board or not. When his gaze meets Gale's across the room, there's a strange gleam in Gale's eyes. It makes Bucky spread his thighs wider under the desk, desperate for more space in his jeans.
Huglin raises an eyebrow. “Which one is the hemlock?”
Bucky's brain, already overwhelmed with anger, embarrassment and hormones as it is, capitulates. “No idea, but I guess you'll tell me anyway.”
Triumph looks repelling on Huglin's face. “I don't know who you're trying to impress, boy -”
“Oh I know.” Curt says under his breath a few seats away, grinning.
“- but no one likes a self-absorbed brat.” Huglin finishes his insult. He turns his back and starts walking towards the front of the class. “You've earned yourself a detention.”
Curt, Ham and Brady snicker in the back rows, so Bucky flips them off. He doesn’t dare look at Gale first, because if he's disappointed, Bucky's day is ruined, but he can’t avoid it forever. When he braces himself and looks up, it takes less than two seconds for Gale to return his stare. Bucky's pulse races, but he doesn’t see anything negative in Gale's expression. He just looks like he’s trying not to laugh. When Bucky gives him a tentative grin that spreads slowly over his face, Gale rolls his eyes and smiles. No one gives a fuck about Huglin, Bucky thinks to himself and goes back to his doodling. He draws a G graffiti-style.
Detention is an absolute waste of time and a curse on humanity as a whole, in Bucky's opinion, but this one goes by relatively fast. As usual, they’re not allowed to do anything but sit in silence and stare out of their heads, but Bucky doesn’t mind it that much this time. He dedicates every minute of it to his new favourite hobby - daydreaming about his boyfriend.
First, as warm-up, he replays all his recent memories like a highlight reel. Gale squeezing his waist, the sound of his laugh against Bucky's lips when Bucky kissed his throat, Gale’s hair sliding between Bucky's fingers. ‘what do you think? of course I have’, blinking at him from his chat with Gale at midnight, answering the question if Gale has ever touched himself and thought of Bucky. Gale holding his hand while standing in line at the grocery store. ‘I love you too’, murmured against his lips in his dim room, warm under his duvet, glowing Halloween decorations still on around his bed.
Bucky's mind dives deeper into this memory and remembers the sensations over and over again. Soft, damp lips against his own, pressing in, then pulling back but never going far, lazy and sure in the way they touched Bucky, like Bucky always wants them to be. The smell of bubblegum on Gale’s breath, his deodorant, and the sweetness of the cinnamon cookies they left on Bucky’s desk. Gale's ankle shifting between his feet. ‘I love you too.’
The longer he reminisces, the further his memory strays into fantasy. With nothing better to do while stuck in pretend jail, he lets it flow unrestrained. He imagines what it would have been like to reach under Gale's shirt and stroke his bare stomach. He has done that a few times before, tracing the lean lines of Gale's abs and the birthmark below his belly button, but what if he went lower? He thinks about that, his eyes unfocused and fixed on a random spot on the wall. He wants to do that. To touch Gale, feel him hard and needy in his hand, to make him feel good. Gale would be a bit nervous but Bucky would shush him and mouth at his neck as he pulls him off, it would be better than either of them could imagine, and then Gale would come crying out Bucky's name and Bucky would lick -
The scrape of a chair jolts him out of his daydream just as it starts veering into a rendition of his favourite porn clips. He blinks hard and crosses his arm over his lap, trying to press down on his dick to make it less obvious what an embarrassing predicament he’s in. He returns his thoughts to reality. ‘I love you too,’ Gale told him that day, then scooted close, tucked his head under Bucky's chin like a cat and went to sleep. It was a great night, and Bucky wants to repeat it as many times as he can.
But he also wants to explore his fantasies in real life. He feels like he’s ready but he doesn’t know how to communicate that in a way that doesn’t end up burned into his brain as the most mortifying moment of his life. In his imagination, he’s suave and effortlessly sexy, he talks dirty, he takes what he wants, but in reality, he doesn’t think he could even say the word sex in front of Gale without spontaneous combustion. They've only ever discussed it via text, so he suspects it's the same for Gale. God, why does this have to be so awkward?
Bucky has been trying to gear himself up to it. He's been researching. Reddit, mostly, because it doesn't help when the dozenth website tells him the same thing his mom did about respecting each other and fucking safe sex. Safe, safe, yes, fine, but how does one make it good? He knows that porn doesn’t reflect reality, but there’s also just nothing else he could base his ideas on. But if he watches too much of that, he gets self-conscious. About his body, his lack of skill, and his desires. What if Gale's don’t match his? What if Gale finds the things he wants ridiculous or lame? Oh, God, what if Gale thinks he looks disgusting naked?
The thought is enough to make Bucky cringe. As a lucky side effect, his erection dies down enough for him to be able to remove his arm from his lap. He stifles a yawn and watches the clock tick down the seconds to freedom. He wishes he could text Gale to ask if he's still waiting for him to go to Bucky's place together or if he went home. He hopes he didn’t leave.
When the weirdly peppy teacher finally lets them out of detention, Bucky shuffles his way out of the room exhausted beyond belief, but he perks up when he spots Gale leaning against the wall opposite the doorway. He looks relaxed. Several strands of his hair have escaped from his bun but he lets them hang free around his face until Bucky tucks them behind his ears.
“I'm released on parole for good conduct.” Bucky jokes, because he very much feels like he has been locked away and separated from Gale for an entire year, not less than an hour.
Gale doesn’t say anything, but he doesn’t need to. The tilt of his lips is amused, so Bucky feels content to throw his arm around Gale's shoulders and ramble on as they make their way down the hall to the exit. He wants to share a kiss, but this whole “being out” business is still a bit new, and he’s not comfortable doing it in front of the teacher, who walks behind them.
“Bucky?” Gale says out of the blue when they reach the small car Bucky has been driving since he got his license. “Can I stay at your place tonight?”
Bucky's brow furrows. “Of course. You don’t have to ask.”
Gale smiles. “Great.”
“Everything okay?” Bucky can’t help but worry, even though Gale's tone suggests that it's not something going wrong at home that made him ask.
Gale hums yes, and that's that. Perhaps he just wants Bucky's company. Bucky rolls with it. He sits behind the wheel and lets the low buzz of excitement spread through his limbs as he starts the engine.
Once they're in Bucky's room, Bucky leaves his stuff on the floor by his desk and throws himself spread-eagle on the bed. The blue fleece blanket covering it dips under him, decadent in its softness. It still smells like laundry detergent because he spilled soda on it and had to relinquish it to his mom for a wash. But, thankfully, it’s back now. It's the comfort his tired body needs. He’s a little sweaty, and his back still sports a few sore spots from an acne breakout he had recently, but he forgets about all that because instead of sitting in the chair or pushing him aside, Gale climbs right on top of him and kisses him on the mouth.
“Mmh.” Bucky hums in surprise, but he gets with the program quickly.
He slides a hand to the back of Gale's neck and wraps an arm around his waist to pull him down. Gale doesn’t lie down directly on him but shifts to his side, half-draped over Bucky's front but still bearing all his weight himself. Bucky pats Gale's flank and squeezes him tight.
“You’re not heavy, if that's what you're worried about.” He tells Gale, dropping his hand from Gale’s neck to his thigh, where it rests on Bucky’s hips.
Gale looks into his eyes, so close that Bucky sees every single freckle and birthmark like flecks of colour on a painting of perfection. Gale's blue eyes are rings around his wide pupils, and his face is flushed with something that's neither heat, nor embarrassment. He tugs the hair tie out of his blond locks and throws it on Bucky’s nightstand, then kisses Bucky again. It’s slow and chaste as usual when they've only just started making out, but when Bucky parts his lips, Gale sighs warm air into his mouth. Bucky swallows it as if it filled him with life.
“God.” He mumbles, tangling his fingers in Gale's silky hair. “Can we do this all night?”
Gale smiles into the next kiss and strokes Bucky's shoulder. “You remembered what I said about Socrates.”
As turned on as he is, Bucky's mind blanks so completely that his only saving grace is the fact that Gale captures his lips again. It gives him just enough time to remember life beyond the sweet realm of Gale's kisses, and circle back to that strange light in Gale's eyes when Bucky mouthed back to Huglin. Did it turn Gale on that Bucky had paid attention to him?
He cranes his neck to put more force into the kiss, pushing at Gale until they're flipped over, with Gale on his back and Bucky draped over him. He cups Gale’s cheek and rubs his thumb over the apple of his smile. “I remember everything you tell me.”
He says it earnestly, because he means it, since Gale takes up ninety percent of his thoughts. His beautiful boyfriend. He’s everything. Bucky has never felt like this before. It used to be soccer that he was obsessed about, but nowadays, he'd rather spend his weekend staring at his and Gale's photos than watching a game. Coach Red told him already that he’s gotta get it together because his performance fluctuates worse than the weather this fall. But, he supposes, his admission does sound a bit as if he's trying to be romantic, because Gale chuckles, his eyes sparkling like he doesn’t believe it but likes it nevertheless, and he loops his arms around Bucky’s neck to pull him down.
“Just come here.” His whisper brushes Bucky's lips, then his mouth follows, warm and sweet.
For a moment, they can’t decide how to kiss - Bucky expects Gale to keep going slow but he doesn’t, and then Bucky tries to catch up but then Gale pulls back in apology. They end up with a messy, clumsy kiss that dissolves into a shared laugh. His face on fire, Bucky rests his head on the pillow Gale's lying on and looks into his eyes. For a long moment, they just look at each other like that. The eye contact feels electrifying. It’s too much and yet not enough - Bucky fidgets and plays with the hem of Gale's t-shirt, but he can’t look away.
When Gale stills Bucky's right hand on his stomach, the need in Bucky's belly spikes. It makes him bolder, enough to let his thumb wander under the fabric. Gale's flat belly trembles, then relaxes under his touch as he strokes the barely-there strip of hair below his navel. Gale lets him. He keeps the light touch of his hand on the back of Bucky’s, but he doesn’t hold him back when he slides his fingers lower and lower, to the edge of Gale’s pants.
“I also remember, uh.” Bucky clears his throat, back to feeling awkward again. The rush of anticipation makes his heart race. “What you told me the other night.”
Confused, Gale rubs circles over Bucky's knuckles. “About what?”
Bucky opens his mouth but he makes the mistake of glancing into Gale's eyes again, and his confidence falters. He makes a face that screams discomfort before he finally manages to get it out. “Jerking off.”
“Oh.”
When Gale averts his gaze in embarrassment, Bucky looks down too, face aflame. That wasn’t suave at all. He imagined he would make it sexy, flirty, and Gale would confess how much he wants it, and then they would make each other see stars. But he just sounded like he couldn’t breathe. Which isn’t far from the truth, because his palm is still warm on Gale’s stomach and Gale's shirt is rucked up to reveal the pale skin underneath. It’s a sight that steals the air from Bucky’s lungs.
Despite his fumbled explanation of what's on his mind, he doesn’t pull his hand away. Gale doesn’t make him do it either, but when Bucky shifts his thumb again, circling that birthmark by his belly button, his breath hitches. He presses the side of his head to Bucky's forehead.
“Did you like what I said that night?”
“Yeah.” Bucky swallows. They're both keeping their voices low, as if speaking louder would break the fragile spell of trust and desire between them. “I wanted to, um… see it. To watch you do it, you know.”
“Do you still want it?”
“God, yes. Yes.”
Gale blows out a long exhale. His stomach tenses under Bucky's hand. “I'm really hard right now.”
Bucky flushes hot and cold at the words, and his fingers tremble. Gale's hair tickles his face. He breathes in its scent and presses his forehead harder to Gale's temple. “Me too.”
What now? It feels like they're on the precipice of something, but they're both waiting for the other to take the first step. Bucky curls his fingers towards his palm, then flattens them again on Gale’s stomach. His other hand lies between their bodies, and Gale squeezes it with his right before moving his fingers up and to the side until the back of his knuckles brush Bucky's bulge.
The quiet whimper that Bucky makes is completely out of his control, as is the way his hips cant forward into the touch. It’s utterly embarrassing, but it seems to be all the encouragement Gale needs. He turns his hand to fit his palm around Bucky’s hardness and squeezes. The heel of his hand grinds against Bucky just right to send a pulse of pleasure through him.
“Fuck.” Bucky whispers, rocking into it. His breath comes out all shaky and loud, so he tries to hold it, but it leaves him in a rush when Gale keeps rubbing him. “Oh, fuck.”
Gale makes a sound that's half joy, half disbelief. As if in a sudden hurry, he feels around for the zip of Bucky's fly and pulls it down with a deft flick of his wrist, then he sticks his hand inside. He wraps his fingers around the line of Bucky’s cock through his boxer briefs and moves them up and down just the slightest bit, to see if it feels nice. A damp spot makes the fabric stick to Bucky's skin inside.
It hits Bucky then with the full, magical significance of the realization - Gale is touching his cock. His boyfriend is holding him through his underwear and he’s going to make him come. They're having sex! Well, kind of - it's not real sex, just fooling around, but… but it's sex nonetheless. It counts if Bucky says it does. The thought makes him so happy that he lets out a quiet laugh, and Gale echoes the sound.
Dizzy with it, Bucky finally remembers to reciprocate. He goes to slip his fingers under the waistband of Gale's trousers. Smooth skin and hair brush his palm, softer than his own. The denim chafes the back of his hand painfully as he tries to push it further down to where Gale feels hot and hard against his fingertips.
“Wait.” Gale says quietly and uses his left hand to open his fly and push his underwear aside to give Bucky access to whatever he wants.
Oh, does Bucky want.
Wasting no time, he reaches into Gale's underwear and pulls his cock out. Just like that. He can’t stop to think about it, can’t let himself marvel at what he's doing because he knows he’ll lose all his confidence instantly. He just does it, and Gale helps by shimmying out of his clothes just enough to bare his hips.
Once all that fabric is out of the way, they both take a deep breath at the same time. Their heads still pressed together, they watch as Bucky's fingers form a circle around Gale's length and move up along Gale’s silky skin with a featherlight grip as if scared to ruin the moment with a rougher touch. Gale's cock is thick, pink and pretty - Bucky can’t describe it better with any other word. He has watched enough porn to have an idea of what most cocks look like, how strange their proportions can be, but Gale’s is just like the rest of his body. Perfectly shaped, no imperfection in sight. A small bead of moisture glistens on the tip as Bucky rubs him up and down. Bucky would lean down to lick it off if he wasn’t so scared that he’d end up trying to give Gale a blowjob and fail to fit him in his mouth. So, he swipes his thumb over it instead, and Gale's breath hitches in his throat at the same time as his cock jumps in Bucky's hold.
The nerves and the heat rising between their bodies makes Bucky even sweatier than before. He can feel it under his shirt and where his forehead slips against Gale's temple. He hopes Gale doesn’t ask him to take his shirt off, there's no way Bucky could hide how bad it is then. Bucky really, really doesn’t want to ruin this by being disgusting. He tries to put it out of his mind as he pulls his hand up and pushes it down again until it brushes Gale's dark blond curls. He repeats this a few more times, increasing the pressure while rocking into Gale's hand. It’s amazing. He could come like this, doesn’t even need anything else - but then, Gale suddenly stops him.
“Bucky.” He says before the next stroke up, pleading, but it's not for the reasons Bucky fantasized about. He winces and holds Bucky's hand still where it grips the base. “It's too dry if you do it that hard.”
“Oh.” Bucky pulls his hand away immediately, then curls it into an awkward fist before he shoots up into a sitting position to root around in his nightstand. “I'm sorry. I -”
He laughs in embarrassment. Why didn’t he realize? He doesn’t like it without something to ease the slide either, unless he's very gentle, but he never is, why did he figure that Gale would like it dry? Fuck, he’s messing it up already, isn’t he? As fast as possible, he grabs the coconut body lotion in the drawer and shows it to Gale.
“I use this. It smells nice.” He says with a smile before he blushes beet red. Why, oh, why did he say that? He squeezes some of it into his palm, then turns away for a moment under the guise of putting the lotion back in its place, just to squeeze his eyes shut and allow himself a second to cringe.
When he turns back, he finds Gale just as flushed and wide-eyed as he is. He blinks up at Bucky, then reaches for his face to pull him into a kiss. Relieved and grateful for the distraction, Bucky sinks into the comfort of Gale's lips against his own. He nudges Gale's nose with his until Gale smiles, then he slips his tongue into Gale's mouth and kisses him as deeply as he can. Gale scratches at the curls at Bucky’s nape and returns the kiss.
The moment Bucky touches him again, he gasps and shifts against the mattress, then chuckles self-consciously. “Cold.”
Bucky drops his forehead to Gale's and makes a rueful sound. “Sorry.”
Gale hugs him. “It’s okay. Keep going.”
It should be simple enough, but Bucky doesn’t trust himself not to fuck it up by trying to find a better position, so he lies back down the way they started this whole thing and moves his hand. This time, it’s an easy slide, and he can tell that it feels good from the soft hums and sighs it pulls from Gale’s throat. They mix with the rhythmic squelch of the handjob and Bucky's own shaky breaths. Bucky's stomach flutters in arousal. He's giving that to Gale, he’s making his boyfriend happy, he’s doing well, Gale wants him, he wants Bucky - the thoughts swirl around in Bucky's head like an intoxicating cloud.
He shifts to nuzzle Gale's neck, down the column of it to the supple skin at its curve. He sucks a hickey there, then watches Gale's cock twitch in the grip of his hand when he pulls back and exhales against the mark. The muscles of Gale's bared stomach tense into a hard line, then relax every few seconds. Bucky tugs, again and again and again, mesmerized by the sight until Gale grips his thigh hard enough to bruise, stops breathing and his whole body locks up to come all over Bucky's hand and his own belly. He gasps and sucks panting breaths through his nose as Bucky strokes him through it, but doesn’t make a single sound, let alone cry out Bucky's name.
It’s still one of the best things Bucky has ever experienced.
He made Gale come. All that pleasure he saw and felt rushing through Gale was because Gale enjoyed his touch, because he wanted Bucky and liked how Bucky gave it to him, which means that Bucky didn't mess up. He did well. It was his first time but he did it!
Jesus, he loves Gale so much.
He grins like an idiot and lets go of Gale's cock gently to look at the mess on his hand. It doesn't look any different from his own, but he wonders about the taste. Emboldened by the rush of satisfaction and pride he got out of the experience, he raises his sticky fingers towards his lips. Before he could stick his tongue out though, Gale grips his wrist like a vice.
“What are you doing?”
Bucky goes still. He’s not sure what's better, admitting it or coming up with an excuse? His brain is too fried by his arousal to make up anything on the spot, so eventually, he just says the truth. “Licking my hand?”
Gale makes a sound of disgust. “Don’t do that.”
“Come on.” Bucky tries. He probably sounds a bit whiny but he doesn’t care. “Can I lick your stomach then?”
They both pause, then Gale starts snickering, which soon turns into helpless giggles he hides behind his free hand. Bucky drops his palm back to Gale's abs and laughs with him, feeling happy and silly about the whole thing. He doesn’t know why he asked that. He just wants to - to try new things, to try everything and find out what this world of experiences holds for them.
When he calms down, Gale squeezes Bucky's forearm. “Can you please get me some tissues?”
“Yeah.” Bucky sits up again and grabs the box he keeps on his nightstand, then puts it between them so that they can both clean up.
They avoid each other's eyes until Gale is dressed again. As if nothing happened, he looks the same as he did fifteen minutes ago, except for the light in his eyes and the pink flush creeping under his collar. He sits up, tucking his long hair compulsively behind his ears.
“Was that okay?” He asks quietly, more uncertain than Bucky for what seems like the first time since they started.
Bucky gives him a toothy grin. “Okay? I loved it!”
Gale glances up at him, then laughs, hiding it by turning away for a moment before he turns back. He looks fond and relieved, and Bucky feels a rush of love so stunning that he just stares at him with a loopy smile until Gale pushes him down on his back. They share a few sloppy kisses, too overcome with a giddy release of tension. As usual when he can’t contain his joy, Bucky can’t shut up - every time their lips part, he mumbles something about how pretty Gale looked and how he wanted to do this with Gale for ages. He swears he'll get an A in Biology if it makes Gale agree to do this every week, but Gale just hums in reply and sticks his hand under Bucky's shirt to stroke his chest. Bucky has a few strands of hair there that he considered shaving, but he figured no one would really see them up close anyway. But he might have been wrong, given the way Gale starts rolling the fabric up his stomach. He’s not sure if it’s a good thing or not.
“Your turn.” Gale kisses into the corner of Bucky's lips. “Can I take this off?”
Fuck! Bucky wants to cringe again. The feeling pulls at the wings of his shoulder blades and pinches his cheeks. He puts his hands on Gale’s slim waist and pulls his shoulders up in a goofy shrug. “I don't know. I'm kinda sweaty.”
Gale looks at him with hooded eyes. “It’s just salt and water, Bucky.”
“Doesn't smell like the sea though.”
Gale's lips wobble the way they do when he thinks of an inside joke between them. He reaches into Bucky’s nightstand and grabs the bottle they used earlier. “Good thing we have your trusted friend here.”
Bucky bursts into a laugh. “Fuck off.”
“It does smell nice.” Gale says through a grin as he pops the cap.
Bucky groans. He’s never gonna live that down, is he? Giving in, he closes his eyes and grabs the hem of his shirt. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
“I won’t.” Gale says while Bucky’s pulling the fabric off, then presses his lips to Bucky's sternum. “I don't mind it at all.”
It's so simple, but perhaps that's what hits Bucky in his core. Things like this don't matter if you love your partner enough, he thinks, and it seems that Gale does. He loves Bucky, truly loves him. He didn’t say it back just to save them from an awkward moment that night after Halloween. He meant it.
Or, perhaps, Bucky's overthinking it.
Thankfully, when he opens his eyes, Gale smiles at him, and Bucky stops thinking about salt and water and confessions altogether. All he needs to do is feel.
And if his mom tells them that they smell like coconut that night, he’s going to blame Gale for the way he chokes out a laugh.