Found a couple of old drabble-length tidbits from this verse and figured I'd upload them. They're all set in the same high school AU centered around Hong Kong/Iceland but aren't meant to be read together or in any kind of linear order or anything. I believe this one was written for a domesticity meme.

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Kissing had come naturally to them after they had gotten used to the idea that they liked each other. Holding hands, no problem, as long as no one was around to see them. Even the part that had come before this, the part that neither of them really liked to talk about out loud that involved some theoretically inappropriate things going into inappropriate places, hadn't been too bad. They'd prepared for that.

So out of everything in the world, Eirik couldn't believe that this was what they were having trouble with.

"Michael, your - " he started, pressing his lips together. "Your arm."

"Hm?" Michael's eyes drifted over to him; they'd both been staring at the ceiling before.

"Could you...move it?" Eirik nodded upwards towards the arm, which was currently slung more over his forehead than around his head or his shoulders or whatever it was that Michael had apparently been aiming for. Confusion flickered over Michael's face for a moment before the request set in and he obliged. There. That was an improvement.

Then he became keenly aware of their legs.

It was really horrible being a teenager, Eirik thought. Teenagers were like their own special blend of not-quite-rights and almost-theres, and it made him crazy that his hormones could tell him where to put his hands when Michael was kissing his collarbone (on the back of his neck, so he could smack him lightly and hiss, "don't leave a mark!" if he needed to) yet he didn't seem to have any control over his limbs while they were curled up together. He felt lanky and awkward, waiting for his knees to knock into Michael's at any minute, almost able to hear Kristian's voice as he'd looked down at him appraisingly when he was thirteen and only five foot six:

"You're getting taller, lillebror," with a brief pat on the head, arm curling around his shoulder a few minutes later to tug him closer and gently maneuver him into a spooning position - wait, that hadn't been Kristian.

"Michael?" His voice betrayed his surprise more than he wanted it to. Somehow, even without turning to see him, he knew that Michael was probably smirking (at least internally).

"You told me to move my arm," Michael stated, and Eirik would have elbowed him for being a smart ass if he hadn't had him trapped.

Damn.

Maybe they were better at cuddling than he'd thought.