I think this is the last for a while (though maybe one more...? No. I mustn't. Two WIPs to do.) and as you can see, I'm reverting to type in that it's a little softer. And yes, I nicked the title from a book, but I'm unrepentant.
Thanks to everyone who encouraged me in my mini posting frenzy ::grin::

A Killing Kindness

Andrew’s sitting at the canteen table, on the fringes of a group, laughing too soon or too late every time. Giles doesn’t know why he pauses, or why, when Andrew turns, sees him, and smiles happily, he can’t smile back. Andrew flinches, friendly becomes hurt, and Giles walks away.

He’s not sure if it’s the smile or the flinch that makes him kiss Andrew for the first time that afternoon, on lips swollen and damp, a soft, hesitant, experimental kiss.

He just knows, as adoring, wet, hopeful eyes rise to meet his horrified gaze, that he hasn’t kissed it better.
.

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