Kavinsky slipped his hand into Lee's, drawing him out onto the dance floor. The music was campy, older than he was, not the least bit the sort of thing he'd ever listen to. But it had a beat to it, and Kavinsky could press his body close to Lee's without another thought, and close his eyes. He could, for a moment, shut out everything else.

He felt infinitely silly, like this. An absolute cliche, the both of them, and he hoped that Lee was perfectly aware of it. It made him smile a little. He was too fit to really be a twink, and he knew that, but he was still young and could make a good show of mediocre innocence.

Aware of his melancholy, he turned his back to Lee, pressing himself back against him and dragging one of Lee's arms around his chest.