Eitan looked at him: at the lines of his eyelashes, the strong set of his shoulders, the stubborn cut of his jaw. “You did all that on your own?” Akiva nodded slowly. “How could you possibly think you don’t have guts?” He didn’t have time to say much more, not when Akiva kissed him, a dart of a kiss, scarcely more than a press of his mouth against Eitan’s, quick enough that Eitan would miss it if he blinked, so he didn’t.
