That gets a laugh against Quentin's mouth, Koby's legs hooking over his hips, arms around his neck, holding onto him as easily as he does in their absurdly-sized tub, or their absurdly-sized bed(s), seeking out his warmth in the middle of the night, tucking his face against the side of his neck, all actions so familiar he could do them in his sleep. And he can. And he will. The realization of that is like something bright and fluttering and brilliant in Koby's chest, making him laugh and sniffle like an absolute mess.

"Okay. Ok-kay, no more tears." Chiding gently at himself, the words ending in a squeaky little gasp at the tease of teeth on his neck. There's another of those giddy thrills -- who left those all over your neck? My boyfriend did -- and Koby doesn't even watch the pink bracelet sink to the bottom of the pool. "Not complicated at all," he agrees, tugging lightly at one of Quentin's loose, damp curls.

Then, nodding emphatically -- "Yeah, let's -- all day? Really? That'd be -- yes. I'd really like that." Koby's naturally a touch wary of the parties here, but if it's the two of them together, surely there's little to nothing to worry about. He grins, wide and a little goofy, his glasses slowly slipping out of his tangled hair and landing crooked on his nose. "Like a -- a date."